their breath is pop music you can't have.
we know about it

the art is in the attitude. it's what's giving us away

sharing a subway car with neonazis
i hesitate-
having gotten out of work early for the first time
in a long time;
one ear left uncovered by the wireless headphones. on
the opposite side
the old man in the body cast and crutches
the young man., ,fat and bald.
talking about sin.
and what its like to be irish-catholic
in a boston that doesn't recognize them as god any more.

,covers the other ear after a few minutes to hear the full sound profile of my song/
i have decided that they have forfeit
their privilege to live

Using the cold wall and my bare feet to regulate body temperature. Bracing up against her.And retreating.  Thumbing through dry white pages of skin as a dull orange glow
gleams off the edge of   a     r  i  b.           There is a clinking from the other room. The phone charger is getting hot.
We dream of power plants buzzing  far away; skylines full of towers. Wire tracks leading off limitless unto the
unknowable.  Vast.  Thataway.          And there is something ready to
consume us out there. In the woods and meadows. In the irreverent
nation of pocket warmers and folded map laminated
fingers  



There's no such thing as Vermont. The land doesn't know that name.
It hears the rustle of my dead branches and gurgling of moist earth
churning thanklessly beneath last years canopy, and thinks to answer,  ,,home. Home. Home,,.


None taken

I drag your body from the room As the Bluetooth quietly disconnects from your favorite speaker, and the signal is left empty and waiting for instructions, not coming.

everytime you blink the river bank drowns another inch.
your shoe is gone
and it's coming for the rest of us.

it is happy with itself _

the wifi is out and we are being ****** away

what's my belly to you-
burning like the last look down a hallway.each bristle fighting the
skin to prove its toughness
each sunbeam sizzles another one to peachfuzz.
we are rocking back and forth all over it.
      my invitation is wasted on the waythe floorboards
creak
as the table gets leaned on- we feed on
  its knuckles are ruining it for me,            you are speechless.
i am speech
its tumbling       outside
                 there is a rumbling
the big shook daddy is coming down


life's a popularity contest and
its all about poptunes\

hey hey

**** the cool kids **** the losers **** the bus-rides, the train tracks
the way the ambulance swerves.
**** the gooey middle that   spills.as we bite
the chances to do the right thing
**** the black sweater hanging off your shoulder-bladed back

the lawn chairs on the sidewalk
the hair in your mouth

my lashes closing on your
instant
sticking together like
sleepiness.
in the blood of it
's hammered thumb-nails
beading like
bad trends

getting hot like a battery against our thigh(s).
choking.charging  
getting tangled in the wire    overnight


all woke atthe sound of [it]
[they are learning to be proud of it]
we are getting better and better every year

,smile like a jar full of recycled screws.his
lips are the sound of it being shaken
teeth flashing like rust against glass and tin
the chime (of it) cuts through the room like a textbook dropped behind you
suddenly
he dips his hat and stands there dumbly- smiling, smiling, smiling.


my fists are clenched
your dress is unfurled in a bedroom somewhere else
          your hair is dirtied by curls
i stomp impatiently outside.

it's raining       [way off, in a short story about corrugated roofs]