slower is easier, actually
these bed posts are kind of mean
there's something
i'm not saying
and i'm wondering where it could
be
actually, that's comforting
sincerely, that's flattering
basket case of novelties
heavy hearse
heavy frequency
it's lending it's hand to you
something promised
and running true
in the castles, there are heartless fools
they are deconstructing
with lofty tools
magic
mystic
unconsciously
mathematic and feverishly
running forward to
a destiny
flailing backwards
to an epiphany
slower is easier, actually
these bed posts are kind of mean
there's something you're not saying
i'm wondering where it could be

don't like hellos
don't like goodbyes
don't like seeing you unintentionally
don't like being used
like being used
like seeing you unintentionally
like goodbyes
like hellos

flying juniper arrows
fell asleep by the meadows
struck my body with vengeance

that night you screamed at me sweetly
made me tear at my covers
blackbelt in bedsheet karate

i was the kid in rehab who
my counselors let
watch movies
past my bedtime

I dream of women;
a Dionysian slip
through Apollo's cracks

Sat down next to this seven year old kid named Max.
He could play a couple songs on the piano, it astounded me
He then sung to me one of his songs that he'd written.

He would ask questions like, "How can I fix this?" -
as he pointed to the bottom of a handrail that shifted with weight.

I sat with him a while, and he made me want a child.
He made me want to bring a being into being.

something looks and creeps on the countertop
parasitic cyst
up on the table
a phonograph feeding me from way back
a comatose short
you made me outnumbered and sorts
a different flesh
but you feel the edge
and feel suprised but
you know just what i am
a different life
and we were encumbered
and adorned

okay alright o'
i want you naked again
god ******, kay, fine

smoking *** turns you into the walking dead,
which i've been watching all day because i smoked ***.
- not a bad show, really -
where's the girl at? where's the nice shot of whiskey?
haven't checked
these poems aren't even good, just some ****** little tidbits
i blurt out
       when i have nothing else to do or no one to talk to
but,
actually,
now,
i'm gonna watch a movie or something

Billie Holiday samples -
rich hors d'oeuvre's -
your brother ******* his
girlfriend, thing
your brothers ******* their girlfriend
things
and so magnets make me weak -
but not always -
the sleeper is a comfortable skin -
a flock of seagulls

in the early morning when i am awake
and no one else is up, i'm the most
hilarious, charming
person ever - or maybe i'm not and i'm just like this
blurred out, half-toned, tripcase.
like a series of spirals
of this delirious sarcastic string of mildew.
but i make myself laugh a lot
by embarrassing myself
i guess that's all i'm saying.
do you feel me dog?

i sigh a little
i fly a little

this is the one! - this is the thing!
                                    "when do you want to pull over?"
                                                                           "right now"

It's christmas, mail is the contract -

The gig is off,
Highway 40 to highway 1,
I sleep until the roadway becomes an exit because dreams excite me more -
because of the ****** and explicitness.
Commercials sound through out the house, televisions left on like a slow memory

So now I am altered

- you player! -
but the case is settled,
             well - probably not, no.
                                                         Aphex twin reduces tempo -

can Moon's ******* wrap me

mummy-like?

        -        Memory of the mammary.

boredom is a tight shirt,
a blanket shamefully pulled over it
boredom is how whiskey learns how to taste better,

chum steeps in the waters constantly,
the fragmented dregs of flesh dance and so we catch them cautiously
with our gnaw of impatience

boredom is waking up early and laying in bed for an hour or three,
occasional outbursts of "fuuuucccckkkk" - and then it's coffee
rolling cigarettes out of abandoned butts - a true old stogie

television, ******* turned down in volume,
***, movements of no virtue
more whiskey and then the pillow and then things get interesting