poetry

autoproduction of the unconscious is what we're going for (AO collage)

familial constellation in action

nuclear complex

the inverse is negative and the problem is one of knowing

crush & repress, desiring production

the figures vary, symbolic imaginary

the social form is under consideration

a question of something better for us all

(all of us) the domain of the unconscious

the impossible real, what do you want

projectionist

it wasn't enough to flood the room with light, you needed more light

recurring themes

seen on TV vision

held like a caterpillar of society

climbing sickened locust leaves

carcass / phalanges

split the / differences

we should be so lucky

car scale, intersection

become image, that’s sontag, that's context

the wind puts fucking twigs tiny torn up bits of leaves into my eyes and it’s symbolic of nothing

cold tap screwdriver, looking out

running out of what you need but

i will never live to see the world give up

and i would give up everything just to

watch you crush everything

invasive species by means of accident and

wanting what’s best, inconsiderate, unbeholden to

care for existing flora and looking out for

inner beauty, not an evil, not malicious just

wrong place, wrong sentiment

this amalgamation assumed

it knew the culture, yeah

indirectly and when

exiting, become your disappointment

what did i replace, destroy

and is the spiral expanding outward or collapsing in on itself, subsuming, assuming

i broke it, i replace it

the flower is a sex organ and i wear it all over my shirt in a volatile way

hey moth, come eat the flower

On reciprocity as r(u/a)pture, or disillusionment

i smiled at a baby and a dog in the park today

and got what i deserved, going too fast to see

on the way

the deer impaled on the mausoleum fence

at work, now it’s all i can imagine

they took out 15 trees for the new bike lane

doing this put sawdust into everyone’s eyes and lungs but

they say it’s better than the alternative

bank my eyes here and there

i am so held by every/one

utilitarian blue quilts buzzing on the wall,

warm blue sound proofing, overdrone,

i never expected anything back and suddenly–

now is a concrete mallet,

disrupting denial

that anything so beautiful can come with splitting seam,

geysers hot but predictably there is no safe distance

to everyone here,

it is a secret to everyone here that I don't know how to relax

is it better or worse to be seen this way?

every admission a moth, picking its way through cocoon wall

you are permitted to guess

what everyone on the other side is saying

pale green light coming in the window at 7:30

tell me prudently

what would happen if we were here forever

7:31, 7:32, 7:33,

it’s inappropriate to ask for more than this

all i can ask is that everyone’s feet keep swinging

and that fires and fevers continue to carry favorable connotations

Self credit,

i maker, i creator

shatter reality,

broken brown glass

bottle on sidewalk

like waking up from the cusp of a dream

hope as reality,

was reality, was two hands holding

time as in, always changing

new self even better than before

reality was the dream for a time

or

i thought i was lucid and

patience to have the good and bad i

embraced dichotomy i

left myself for dream which is hope which is reality

poem

alternating activity & acquiesce

worms that build shit in a bottle

corked with

moon wax presses

spring tide reseeds

tooth gap spit expands flow

like orthodontists told me it would

in the greenhouse

this room will never hold enough air for you all

lung~apology

sorry for making everyone listen to lightning bolt all morning

i will play us some Good adult contemporary now, with ambient field recordings and bird noises

help, I'm 2 cats

help, I'm 2 cats and our basement door is closed, down where we shit and piss

and we hear a snare drum and cymbal hit. and it makes us hit each other and run around real fast.

i can't see red, even when you show me

you left your rare, mint condition magic card on the floor of my car, no sleeve

how will you win now

music video

the "chocolates" telephone gazes dream-eyed with fondness toward the projector in the yard in front of the stage

blurry, goth impacts hit the ears of everyone around and we smile and look, and look down

is that st johns wart beneath the flamingo or some other plant with fake human name i won't pretend to know

Tip

A

Apprec

says the bucket from this angle

from this angel: a kick drum, 2 pedals, one home-made, & a Casio

from this devil: several mosquito bites to the ankle

& from the west, a soft breeze and a sunset that might indicate we've just passed the golden hour

bzzzzzt intensifies from the keyboard and a 5th cup of coffee makes itself known. polyrhythm. cool neo-goths. i can't describe it all as goth. but most things are a little. goth respect.

hearing-test-type beat

i like the way sounds remind me i can still hear

rorschach shoe print in dirt

wake up call, last call for white noise

and how about some video game noises? what was that donkey kong bongos game?

i was never ready to perform

that wet garbage smell is not ginko berries, it is wet garbage

and the bassist in the metal gear solid band is a poser

plastic lamp amplifies presence of stray plant at dusk-

dusk requests i quit using their name in my poetry

your welcome

I do push-ups everywhere I go

when I walk in the room

it secures the establishemtns to the ground

so they don't fly up or get loose

and when I'm outside I secure down the soil and grass

10 push-ups here and there, 20 if it's a sandy loam soil

the magnetic field grows weaker by the minute

but no need to thank me

this is my love for humanity calling me to do this

I need no paycheck

number poem

i think putting numbers in your poem makes it a better poem

2,309,457,225

6,832

54,980

numbers make poems headier,

i never really enjoyed math, always resisted it

this is me compensating

66,223

reinserting numbers back into my life

420 69

April

in intellectual dryspell

I'm high and I've decided to go on a walk

and stop editing and share more

on a not-so-rare occurrence of parallel thought

I started writing this one before you posted the article thing on homogeny but

this city is like this other city

this city is like nowhere I've ever been

he repeats the same joke about minimalism over and over while people clap and two-step along

I like how you hang out outside after sunset

I like how you like little stupid discordancies that aren't funny to anyone else

adult mopping their kitchen

beer smell from beer spill on the floor

the we-don't-even-drink cans all over the house

in the cold basement

remembering a set of arms and how they feel

I brought the one plastic arm that smells like you

to the next city to the next city

mudhouse poem

in springtime, soaring,

biking down a big hill, pedaling harder

fear of replicating the Fabio at six flags incident

striking

cats don't beeline

sometimes they take the long way around

"slinky" this is sometimes called

I try to switch up my route to work

I think because zizek said we should? i don't care, i don't remember why I just remember it's important

to not get stuck in the same pathways

dismount across the street

j-walking to work

keno ticket on someone's front step

habits to change are not always bad

not always obvious

a decaying sandwich leaves a slimy rut after rainfall

I pray the little mouse ignores it and cry a little

some things are too unnoticeable

wisconsin through the backseat window

staying in another 120something year old house tonight, the 3rd one in a row

time loves us & then passes us along

leaving mildew and earthsmell damp on our cold basement walls

things that remind you of your grandparents real house before they had to move out

I think that is a Frank Lloyd Wright house

I think that is a Frank Lloyd Wright rootbeer factory

breathing it in through the car ac, I start counting towers I see on hills, old churches and barns

rolling hills americana nap dream

fishlure mailbox like a singing wall fish billy bass but the music that comes out is bills and a postcard from mom

I should call her

is there more money up here or do they just have better style and bigger homes

on the sad goat farm with sad bison and sad deer

you can't hide mange. you can't hide fleas.

you can hide on the kids playset that looks like a rocket

slide spiral southward

back where i'm looking forward to being

thank you friends, I keep saying

thank you when there's nothing more-real to be said

i'm being real, honestly, thank you

pulled in

being the same in different directions as the

blue gel on the drum head &

blue gel cut-out of a bird stuck on the window

where the sunlight can pass through it

with the cognitive dissonance of a porch covered in wind chimes and a swinging bench for two,

that also has a ring doorbell that scolds "stop, you are being recorded"

I ask you

picture this with me

you're with me even more

i impatiently keep saying not enough

it always gets stuck or taken away in

the moment never feels right

or the wind is too strong, I'm waiting for

cadence to still

but i feel it too much

walking through a light rain til the park greens out

not me this time

long leafy

the trees actually lean in and reach down

making me feel heavy and small both

when given a dynamic shove,

I'm down

frog plodding noises in the puddles on the gravel path

silent and wiggly and

oh shit I ate the earthworms meant for the compost that doesn't

break down

I miscalculate what it takes to make a good compost

keep hoping the change of seasons will do the trick and keep counting on time to do the job for me

but time is short,

only 4 letters long

how is it i keep asking that

much of it

On Confidence, or Trying Too Hard

a foamy noise slips in and out of the picture

and holds us,

the accordion postures,

pauline knows how to take her time

pen slides paper, scarf on windowsil,

just like the scarf a stranger brushed by me, my hand touched and noticed it's softness, cyan,

and now suddenly we're all trying to wear blue today,

even the large blue illuminated sky

no blue without the sun

I think willie nelson noticed that first

a table sits outside, waiting for a dog to come get tied up to it while some people with whom the dog sits enjoy some takeout

"does the table know how well it multitasks?"

challenges the dog to the thin-legged iron patio table

"does it know who it's up against?" the dog pulls after a bird or something

the table says nothing

Supine, Babe

some mountains are deemed "better" simply because they are taller

I spent some time living in satellite dishes and flower petals without realizing I was even smaller

am I speaking my mind enough

how much comes out loud

stuck in the rough,

tongue in my mouth

goosebumps shiver thought of letting loosened

did I say out loud yet

how much I think it, how often?

as the grass grows longer

as the mountain taller

pines dry and hearts are pulled wide

wood cracks from parched air

and something antediluvian tells us we like the sound

here's a list

of things that can take your breath away,

not in a good way

it's not the ocean

it's not the lake at night under a meteor shower

could be like

a breath of air freshener

a stubbed toe

a snake sheds her skin in the treetops the way a cloud loses snow

breath of fresh air freshener

breath of fresh air freshener

why spend your life trying to be perfect

one day long ago, someone lived in that dilapidated house in the field

and now

the old fence covered in bramble hasn't meant anything since 1973

two poems

give me a sec to remember a good joke

carefree age of innocence

heading homeward

all these new ways

all four feet off the ground,

a fruitless search for a vanishing art –the "hidden years" unchronicled

"if you had binoculars," the waiter told me, "you could see crystal-clear sky,"

bringing home to us

unremitting beauty

the most authentic echo