If

wish

and simple as that,

a twist...

even a poet could not resist

an orange peel

with their

iced tea...

the smoke from a hundred chimneys

and the rain from a thousand storm-clouds,

a city made of iron and brick

were we fooling ourselves to begin with?

If wish,

if only

and what's to be done next?  

simple as that,

and this twist?

(an elevator that goes to the moon

is even more irrisitable

to a fainted heart novelist)

ahh, a crafters fortune and vision

a grip on a tether ball, a step on a tight rope walker

falling forever into city

an alleyway croquet mallet
has offed me aside the cheek, mom
and hallow I ruse and relish and weep about it-
carrying the decaying,

I rush to greet certain death, only to find more construction sights
and cars, bothered by their metal and their enormous frames

and my cynical attitude, i know, turns no light for decent people

making invaliuable clauses out of merit heat, and I fear

out of rational and simple,

that I may have exchanged my promise for plea,

I ask the gods and my mother

of such a night like this,

that I may go in peace?

through this one,

at least

I went through a length where I did not write,

I feel like how some poets feel, when they really feel they don't belong anwyhere

Charles Bukowski would say, "like your jacket, have a cigar"

and dylan would earnestly, yet directly ask "how does it feel"

and I'd probaby land on top of keroacs dusty hotel room, listening to bluetooth jazz

reciting allen ginsburg at the northwest point.  yeah.

lay a ray,

lay a ray,

lay a ray

I like to drift aobut the oprah show

with my laptop open, sipping bourbon, it smokes my eyes

and stings my tounge

I like to drift about like this,

I like it when the benches to the barstool are sepraated by groups of three

and I like itwhen the tender leans towards my direction

I like the  laptop open in a giant kazooo, in an inredibly modest church

I like the laptop open while I'm searching for pens and pencils

while I'm picking roses

Iwhile I am farting

now listen,

I like the laptop open because I am flawless,

yes

I am capable of being an inticate wirter,

I have the happensatance on happenstance,
a
nd lecture to the gods that made wine and whiskey decent,,

so I'll sar face, and tell you that I will dissolveinto a bottole of decent phd balanced wtaer...

you are amiliar with thoseairpborre [ils? yeah thats's thow I go,,
I dissovlvejust just like a hellbent sailor, and a hellbent sailor ispnetjhat smils sand glssensup the deck


and isdefinitel inthe crowsnest

its starting to feel better,

the days are warmer and the initial pressure of summer fun

is dissipating, everyone has that bikini day in mind...

especially young people, but everyone.  

and there's supposed to be a song for the summer, too.

I didn't hear any, however I am sure there is one hiding somewhere

crafted by a team of usual people...


what feels better is the heat,

its hot, that kind of hot where it's definitely hot

no question.


things are starting to feel better because I can let the hours pass by

bring on September

goes into the garden andallws for garden


fixes the air conditioning

go east, go west… west is wehre you can be 30 percent sure


lbah blah and itinerary,for a worldclass

ride to spain

ride to spain


die in paris, in vain

norstram apetite

dratatraacpampioliate illiter cy bragnainst fo preostate languastitside

archetypes by dreemons of mesi=sled beandeits, only seraches for their own tai;s wold tofind the atht rocks andthe s

levers spat tooo fast in theo thsky

branched and bargained like marhadded dag a like ddraggg

hampbolted by the porforalaimalice hoork a jork a  fork founded for dailaiin dapper mapper AMDHAFHD HATYTEr
s
AMTER ATAJHATERRES

MAD HAETATERES
JAKECKAING TO THEIR OWN FECESS

LAIAND AN TORN TAKE YOUR ******* LAGHINGAS FOR A ******* NICTOINE HYRDRAAGTION


GO AHEAD AND WHIELR UNTIL THE FUACKING XOOR TF/inFINALLY SHUTS

My identity has been stolen enough times now

Four or five different people use my name with six different credit cards

I’ll clean them up, then ill be the real Johnny Appleseed again.  In no time,

Fine

... enough echoes have made it from the deejay to the tenders tip to the whisper, and enough men have checked up on that, silently,toward myself. When it’s all said and done, it’s still my fault. Then I need to find the next place to go...


And you know?  You’ll find me, eventually, at the starbucks furthest north in the northwest corner, blasting “Bulls on Parade,” enjoying the pints of beer and



Creamer in my coffee

this doldrums,

it mediates between being something decent, a memory that holds leftover leaves
a sicly stomach for other purpose than than to remind the skeleto, or the bony crawler.. that midnight is approaching and it is the hour to find the next shadowy reserve

this doldrums is where I simply lay in the telephone machine, since it is ticking anyway and I don't see the use in following the clock, or the bunny rabbit, or the heart, or what have- you

painfully contented and jaded, is my cigarette thin enough yet?

my wrist watch has stopped ticking, too

and I wear it anway

on classy dinner dates

birches and tastsy jerky wood.  resin in the immediate shubbary.... and dust and cobwwebs growing adjacent to the jerky wood.  Myraid of birds, ranging from small birch-types to crows.  A lingering dominant hawk.  A giant possum crossing between borders carrying unborn infants.  Dusty walls with abandonded spiderwebs- insect carcassases dangling, still.  Pool motors revving in every direction lets of a subtle hum that compliments the planes descending and ascending oer-head

the water is grainy yet cool and healing.  the sprinklers function at midnight and sometimes on the weekend.  Maintinance trucks, expensive commuter vehicals, modest vehicls, unmanned vehicles, arrowhead trucks, macdonalds trucks, safeway trucks....

the earth is still wheaty and chalky adjacent the jerky trees, the jerky trees have little hairs and appetizing off red color, the bark saddles off with grace and with a satisfying tare.

wisht that a sound could represent something other than a friction, a vibraton,


sometiems the keys click

and sometimes they entertain lifetsyles

how come?

I don't know

I accepted plea and promise for two-dollar chorus

perhaps my bargain is between two socal natives whom argued eternally with their voices

it would be humorous, a confused face and a distinguished disguise,


still a jagged faced bordercolie will understand how to open the cages at the right times....where are the mice and squirrells?  where are the pigeons for the crows (crows for mice) and hummingbirds?  

******, there ought to be birdfeed and dinner squirrels that bask in their breakfast by dining till the next full moon

emerge fat and insist on treadmills and marathons and kickboxing

only one can find such a annulment in shanghai's incense-filled withstanding structures, adjacent to the bank and mcdonalds

you will find a squiggle that keeps dissappearing down the sewer drains and sidewalks

it knows something, or at least contains

sulfites and antioxidants

..coherent and available,

it has bounds and beauty and florance mist.


it has deliquents attempting their selves at a jests balcony and dance

how this should be so,

how  I wish it were, as stoic as this fountain

can I blame my own? will I hurt tomorrow?
take me with you on your balcony and learn fever scenic chirping

and I insist, that this one will evolve

a storage unit meant for all kinds of arrangements

mostly quilts and toys from residents who didn't want to bother, even with the junk people...

or didn't even really have the money or time to move out properly

they were arranged, all like this...

the quilts, dusty plastic baby boosters..

more quilts and used beds,

and then there was a guitar...

and a pair of running shoes- i opted for the more colorful pair

I depart the unit,

I've got an axe to grind...

who could resist being up this early and watching the MOON DISAPPEAR before my eyes?  

I’m still here, but the moon decided to go to sleep


I feel very grandiose about this, I must have more stoicism than the moon, even


and I take a long pull from a ten dollar brut and I congratulate myself  in the way the french know, with a flick of a wrist and a nose into the frame..


could it be any more of a wonderful sweaty awful burden?

could I be more tempted?  I will lick it all like a puppy

my tongue will develop horrible callous and pallups

Id have to start using extra care listerine and pop them and watch the blood ooze down the mirror from my snarly, yellow tongue

but i swear, it would be worth it

I’d taste the smoke coming from the chimney

I’d taste the fluorescent bulbs in the billboard advert. reminding me about time..

I’d like the palm trees that are so stoic themselves they are of stone…

the freeway would taste like used cigarettes and budwiser and jizzy ribbed trojans


the balconies and rooftops would be clean, the gravel cared for at least a month ago,

three months ago

closure between lines


that skated away alleys

and entitled themselves to the hours

between hours


where you wouldn’t remove your glasses,

where you’d ywoiudlnts rats your summers of alienware scene tamererisalsis

\

you  are a stunner i tis alientawre outcast amlswae dpravity,

did yu enter our ie=tery, d


or di d the singer

mounts itswhay into the justifiedmononloties



android their clo=brads mont a tied wings heki.d onto the beorwswedd mollies


a ******* starts
?:?

dido he come pit to laying?


wants hosts brain all ofsserat weazxxx wand ddidi this de=yeavrown s diddi fro flwaytouf mi of your micheiuver
> s



n your ca’t be sure


and you won’t ever ben…  for yu are mintsaind on yours tgrarrotoor just like me
\

like a mischief ended bandied its will confront ejhie dietrsie ,, fr0lor oooo pppr rpr r a frag,et DOEENT ANDOEODTY PPA TJAT JAS CRASTEDEEEEEDPP EIPIR SIRRRRR DOTEOS AON A TRECJANT AFWAREFRAREY ODYPYYYYPSYYYYYYYYYYYYPP[O[K[U[U[U[[U[U[U[U[[[[UY;Y[[[Y[YYUY;[[Y[­Y[[U[[[[UY[[Y[Y[Y[Y[Y[Y[Y[Y[[UU[[[TRI464Y7 3RKNAFEKDHYESEYYY  ALENTENTT EYIR TRANETE MOMNGRAOHP

I’m writing a poem right now


I do to want to writ ea poem right now

why?  leave me to my coffee, and my music

go away

leave me to my flowers, I do not care for the page

I do not care for this stage, please stay away


I’m writing a poem right now, and I definitely resent it

I’m grandstanding my own serenity, with your chaotic beauty


jeez, put a shirt on

jeez, you’re too bombastic!!  


I don’t want to write your poem

because I’m just to cool for that

like, I’m so cool that I won’t eve write another poem again ever

and I’ll still just be a weird poet

wouldn’t matter


so I’m not going to write it

Blue dream

I’m darkness

With wine

There was a point

Where the room stood still

A so did the trees

But now the traffic picks up In the background

The rabbits heard something

And the wind...it says shiloh, go West


Now I wish that I wasn’t so burdened

With the choice to go down two different streets

And burdened with time,

It’s being, in my veins like blue ink and making its way up to my brain to be wrapped in neural tubes till it drains cool aid from its corners.

I wish that a maker like Viggo would cast his pen that says Oscar and float down his invisible warrior chain for drama, ransom


The walks I’ve taken show that the branches supporting the local homes are well watered and well kept, construction
Sights and signs of prosperity

alright, and with that I step into the next intersection,

and check my blindspots

the cloggers and their' share of dignified dirt,

t'nite, attach the ravens favorite food

and it comes it like species to sugar

to open water

another life pass me by....

straight hol on... hay hol on


another bringer brought me wine

stay hole on, lay hole on

toonother light in my fire, my vigor..


tonoona hole on, stray and jaygalangee

el saint bee kay and koo


did u figure ettt???


La Bee Gah Tay Qoe When????
YAH YAH YAH

I've encountered cruelty from others' that has caused me pain


usually surrounding something I did, something I said,

I wish that I was better at navigating the signs, what to do--- what not to do....

sometimes blinking your eyes too many times means insecurity, or dehydration, or irritation

sometimes you choose an article of clothing that disagrees with another' sense of security in this cruel life

sometimes its just your hair, or your stupid face

I don't know...I wish this would be resolved.  I have.


a deep, unrelenting desire to touch everyone, to see everyone

maybe it's sick.... maybe I am a hedonist

subscribe to masochism

sympathize with the devil, or the executive, or the wrong crowd, the right crowd- conformist

pretend edgy warrior with a cannabis sword...a vocal sword

I wish that I could give people flowers...I would earnestly enjoy that.

however, I know the repercussions may be overwhelming...

flowers... why not orchids?  flowers???  why not strawberries.   Flowers?   why not dinero, dab loons... that what I need

I don't know...

I want to know every error within myself and fix it, like its a plumbing system or a series of strings that creates a harp

perhaps if they were flawless, then everyone would just love me


I would be complete, there would be no harsh realities, or painful rejection

if only, if only if only

temptation arises out of every little shower head nozzle, they seep and they search and they cloak my body


I hardly move, I harly care if it is hot, if it is cold


it’s as if the forks squeak indefinitely but the feet are handcrafted and dropping E minor on a D and calling it’s square even, female singer, butler drummer

or more like a metal rod from a factory that has somehow made it’s way into a tether ball poll, one of the ones that stands for a hundred years until a desperate housewife calls it *****- and (they replace it with a post modern neck breaking device)


I feel humbled by the stony clay that surrounds my chest and enters my fingertips



and the razors on my lips turn up at tv channels I simply detest

will this engine cease?


sometimes I wish it would

so here I am, fantasizing about tapping howard stern on the nuts swiftly with my boot

when I realize, it is four in the morning, and that's the hour between hours,

it's not three, three...you go to sleep and its fine

five... you say i'll just stay up and greet the dawn, why not?

four the one, the hour, things make sense at this hour, its strange

the audition  is a....football throw through a touchdown post covered by fog and faces of loved ones

and the white room extends, there are no ultimatums, and there is just listless eternal non existence- as in....existing

and, I don't blame anyone, I have a few things that are okay..

I wish for more... I yearn for something that I cannot have

and seedlessly jaded with hot coffeee

I'll be alright

my room is supported by tons of concrete, metal, a bit of wood and insulation.  In my chamber, theres an odious and embarassing dispaly of empty bottles, beer and wine bottles... casino bycycle cards for good measure, untouched pringles... and varios other comforts and pleasures.  

Adjacent to the counter stands an enormous concrete support beam, almost invisible with its cream stucco finish.  almost a place to put your hand while you are stretching, instead.  

My back feels stiff beaucause I danced too much, and what I really want is to feel something so comulsurary and veiny and terrible that I feel lucid with liberyy and pride.  These kinds of feelings, one has to look for them.  They aren't on the streets, there in some sort of sweat dream found when fixing something in the microwave or standing in the correct corner of the space, turniing on the floor lamp just so.  

I need to find it.  I must find it...

always trying to prove something, to neself, to the universe,

to the person down the street

ehh purple hair and fractional tennis *****, then

lead the plastic barriers,

remember the number

ohh saintly hell, I feel like the callous on my feet are even stronger than last month, and this walk is jazzy

so I go about proving the gods, or some diety, that this is, infact, tanglible...artifact to be exact

proving it to the widow who fancies the conversation more than the content,

proving it to pine needles who know they willl fall in two, three days, anyway


prove it to myself, and my toes, and my eyeballs

red flesh and bolstered blood,

can I have a candybar for sixpence from the richardsome magician in the sky?

no, he is occiupid with tobacco candy and the home baseman is comalainging about his peanut pickings


If only I was a kite, then fate would truely be out of my hands, and there wouldn't be any more reason to feel proud,

perhaps tied to a tree for an eternity, perhaps confused bewtee the medeterranean sea and south africa,


who could i be?

a sign outside reads stay fresh, and

it's like "got milk" so I'm forced to take this seriously

It's painted over a brick wall, tan, gray, mostly tan

and adjacent to tthe wall are a prius, a nexus, a bmw and on the far side typical cream van, not white.


there is a bookeeping and taxation building that is now in ruins, remains from a few decades past, probably owned by the state with no useful occupation, yet.  

hobos swear at each other in the street, over bananas and marbarlos and gatorades

Far adjacent, another abandonded building.  Could've been a school

Stay fresh, thank god I have my milk

Round we had he moment


moment, moment moment

closure clour closure,


I held him close and wiped his tear, occationally,

I helped buid his shlter, fine

don't you see the wall?

going from lake to lake...

help me understand this buzzing

this echo chamber, glee out of misery

******!  Hell!  OHOHHH

up on each side of the street, there are markets- flowers, knick knacks, strawberrys....

glass, dispensaries, two hair salons adjacent, nobdy picking on each others business, umbrella lady is patient


uptwon more high rises, a standard issue brooklyn-style cafe and then a mini market with conviniences.  

parking lots, skid row is teemed with decent hobos, scary hobos, hobos who make eye contact and those who don't.  Most hobos make eye contact

they pitch tents, **** it.  The policemen are on bycycles, or rushing for no reason

a c fashion district for wigs and gowns and jr prom emergencies, pink wigs blonde wigs darkwigs, mostly blonde ones, white ones

suglasses, casts of impressive busom stature

car lots, the car lot across the street

it's function rotates clockwise

they have an umbrella and wait,

patiently

I grabbed the weasels' tail and helped him along the street tot he other side to greet his nephew, he is bent out of shape from all the barrel scraping and the eye doctor socking,


he wishes he had three pairs, for pairs, a couple socks, cause he's tired of going barefoot, or with naked soles under rubber boots,


one more pairs of socks

he orders them, and they come, but he distill doesn't have them

why no socks?  

he wears them and then they are in the shower he wears them and then they are on neptune invisible rings, he wears them and ten they are on the couch, soaked in coffee and tabasco sauce


and the broom will be kept, and the street livens, it begins to awake

at least I still have my barefoot

sinking into the coffee table

I made a neucanse out of my luxuries


the wine worries me


and the high only takes me so far


want the words an the numbers and the faces to ean something?  can't you accept nighilis?


spit out another phrase to make sense of it, fine


I type in order to avoid bedrest, I haven't begun makes my own arrangements for that yet, it doesn't even make sense, really


as the battery begins to die, my wine runs dry

and,seriously, out of things to say as the orbit on tv goes tp mir o,,ideate sp;ar system, impressive to the 80's physicist

using their finger s and thumbs to re enact the satellites behaviors

I pity their inaccuracy

If only the string theory folk

could get their act

together

I type with the curtain closed

and dabble between scud really and harsh fantasy

driven by past voices, patriarchal and matriarchal, both,


some more muffled and hidden than others,

I write with the curtains just adjacent to one another, teasing sunlight, sneaking sunlight from the countertop, from the storefront


I wish for my sanity, in solitude I wish to not forget myself, or become lost in wild reflection and lose my footing, or self that my vanity turns me handicapped, or so lost in fantasy that I babble and make no sense,

I'm asking the collective, the dieties, I understand I have willpower over this,

coincidence and chance,

rubber bands snap and rotate, hold hair, too

brewed like a hipster

___JAAYYADEEEDDD

helped like a vocalized yelper, pinched in the **** and ran all four blocks to the next bit,

DURMAT SOIHT

drowned is silent silent tsoylent slentslent solylent


BREEEK NNN KEEEYPPP

and devoured bt cannbais craviigs, cars and cars and thea cars,  imagine still life, so provoked and taking care of characatures and dreaming ion the next lie

Orient lrlent
orient orient


the next balcony,

the next symphony,
how could the words work and how could they be?  this tragic knowing/unknowing

Swing sigh swish okay

tragic and lost in the arts of sway and seduction,

drowned in times fear for onion front sdospaly or affection
could thus carry on?  this stream?  is it agony?

nb ts yearining, its calling can’t you see?


your eyes can see

HMSTr

I changed the reaction time,


how a neutral makert, how a window breaks when nobody cares

how a flower market stays in business for ten to fifteen years

how'd why and whodunnit
here’s your rose


and the evening blends with the morning,

did you take that purity from me, bird who sings when I sing?  coincidence?

or did you take it from me, as I sang it…as you would steal my string cheese I had for breakfast


I paint the town with my poison, with my jacket, with my eyes, invisible

snap chat vanishment taken from the lyric of a turnover rap song,

I flip the krabby patty and it does…sizzle

so did you find your dignity?


Changed the reaction time, neo was struggling to work with trinity,

and of course, he was defenseless when it came to good noodles


the agents, well, they couldn’t stand the smell of gasoline and cigarettes

I wish to let userS_know


sos, sos

I wish that each reader leave,

with a wet kiss, hot water.....ice

do and don't., died

the is guaranteed



_sealed

user....bakfire

voodoo

Wish that I had a better napkin to wipe up this stain

As I wish that the tv would just take up the entire room, like a vaccum cloud


I will ride, with that each sound will forge deeper into my canal, and just leave me with nothing but leather threads and my jeans

Let me take a whiff of that apple, a tackle at this pear

Let my mind perish hahahah a

I want to donate a list to the obsidian preservation society

And in their name serve casserole for ppotiential donation


Donate thousands to make better beds


And millions for safer water

Yes I swear

Yes I sear

where fools fall in love, thats wher is at

they are black, or white, or latino, or asian

usually, and then two fall in love

because of an unusual circumstance, and the irony is funny, or beautiful, or scary, or scandalous

and then they do something horrible and brash to succumb to their love, or suppress it

and someone in the story tries to help them, and also someone tries to stop them

it becomes a thing, since the foolish lovers involve their families and friends to a maniacal extreme

so it's Romeo and Juliet,

And that's the story, I want to see it again...

I want to see the part where the protagonist trades hands with an enemy for his heart

show me the kiss in the courtyard, under the streetlight, in the back of the bus

the one that is horribly vain and *****,

give me the spices and butter over cooking for a false wedding, a re-kindling of mutual benefit

hand me tybalt's dagger-

the show must go on