Brother, I

Remember that time
back at the old house
with our pink cherry trees
and the willow out back
you pissed in bottles
in the basement
in your section

you were in the
garage
and I saw
your plastic weed baggie
you told me
“Don’t tell mom”
frantically
“Please”
and I didn’t

Remember when you
took me out
to the street gutter
in front of the
yellow fire hydrant
and dumped
your
plastic weed baggie
out saying,
“This is the last of it”

I was so
relieved because
now maybe mom and dad
would sleep in
the same room again
and Julia would
stop being so emotional
all
the
time



I knew
the oregano
was missing

Saturday, 9-6 shift

would you like to donate a dollar to St. Jude? no
would you like to like to donate a dollar to St. Jude? no
would you like to like to donate to donate a dollar to St. Jude? no
would you like a dollar to donate a dollar to St. Jude? no, no
would you like a dollar St. dollar for to donate to St. Jude? no
would you like St. Jude to donate a dollar to St. Jude? no
would you like your mother, your father, a dollar, St. Jude? no
St. Jude, would you like a dollar, for a dollar, St. Jude? no
would you like to donate St. Jude, the dollar and? no
you like Jude, would you donate, for a dollar? no
you are a dollar, St. Jude, a dollar, for donating you, for you? no
would you like to donate a dollar to yourself? no
would you like St. Jude's dollar? no
would you like dollars like St. Jude? would you? no

"I" exists

existence is futile
think about running away, rebound
run towards, transference
run diagonal caddy-corner with a combine
yellow car extinction targeting the youth;
stealing is easy, scratch n’ sniff barcodes
so they can’t read, ignorant illiterate machines
yellow diesel oil slicks drenched rainbows
think about emissions think about footprints
think about twisted up light bulbs and mesh tote bags
carry your food in style minus the guilt
consumer reports on consuming comic sans indulgence
past-tense timelines, old yellow calendars
in the sun room and bamboo shoots
our calendars are always flashing noon
neon Heinekens refresh us wash our necklines
hanging please hanged present-tense valium
get-off the junk horse, wrapped smiling wide eyes
screaming commentary running in a line below
the bar and dropped chex mix and
one-ply napkin coasters sopping up
yellow beer stains, cut us our share,
erasures in thinking about would you ever
white legacy red mornings crystal misgivings
popping commercial soap bubbles
and the chrysalis on our back spine-growth
smoking a pack to get through something,
the armageddon comes to you
in yellow saran-wrap and crinkles
murder binary code sun-god

networking

Hello Sir, would you like me to fuck up your
sleep cycle
Sir? I see you paying six-fifty
for your invasive procedures and
I can tell, the gasoline fumes are really
getting to you
Consider shaving your beard with a machete
see how you feel, it can
be very therapeutic knowing the
capitalists aren't winning, ya'know,
imagine twelve hundred million pixels
of children laughing
and cartoon brain smashes
and the whole 4G network blowing their
rape whistles
flying through the oxygen in this
room, penetrating our lives
without our knowledge;
thick imageries of nothing
fucking your brainstem
viral ad campaigns kissing babies
in your kidneys fucking
Keanu Reeves in black leather fucking
your whole self, these waves, BP's
Green Dragon breathing Invigorate
into the 2011 White Lotus Sedan
incredible savings
would you like cash back?

eve

we sat in designated
blue velvet porcelain oak chairs mother
pulled syrup and bread and
sarcophagus from the black-caked corroded
oven, we watched, steam rising from
her robe and, I
passed out, the knives,
my brother licked his teeth coated, licked, his
teeth trembling licking and
my sister blinked as she prayed
fingers crossed together knelt down, intertwined
I counted these blinks until
the crows, descended, every year,
black feathers in glitter glue
plugged into the outlet behind the
table, thrash brown toe claws in steel-toed boots in
our milk and honey, the table salt, and
spit in our mouths manifestations, cholera, plasmosis,
Darling’s disease,
father rises and punctures my
brother’s, throat with two double-A batteries
positive test results lung collapse lung collapse
the, they, stab their gnarled cracking beaks in
my stomach, fermented digestion system twisted,
arranged a one-act nativity scene with the entrails,
blood of the holy ghost coagulated in my throat
and mother observed from the other end
contorted hands gesturing relaxations convulsing
relaxation hissing around, flapping, relaxed,
I kneeled ambivalent on the hardwood
fetal position outlines

support

My sleep transplant constantly rejects
I've tried them in all forms
sent in the warranty
and here I am, on the line
with the Middle East for 8
hours, holding my breath over the
buzzing jazz intervals supposedly
to keep me calm by not
having to hear dead space,
they tell me to wait a bit longer
the effects will kick in
about 4 to 6 business days
but they never do, everything is
starting to go hazy now and
I can no longer get by on the
bread and water passed under the
dog flap in my right ventricle,
eyelids barely even shut correctly
in a cockeyed half-wince, please,
please tell me what I should do now
the sun is coming up for a third time,
it's nerve wracking having to watch this
every twenty-four hours, again, more,
have you ever experienced this personally?
I would like my money back
and a free refill of whatever is on tap
and if you could send somebody over
to reset my neural pathways,
that would be great.

rejected June poem

I should start Dating Things so I know when I write Them

familiar yet bland
the after-taste spoiled
everything her tongue
worked towards
her extremities were
numb like the
muse she pricked
her wings from unfurled
they made stained-glass
look like cave paintings
of 50's stick figure pin-ups
although when flapped
they stuck to the air anyway
and she remembered the
cinder
blocks roped to her ankles

.

I suppose I am to write something profound in my first post. I am currently having trouble writing something "good" since I just had my yearly phone call from my brother who lives in California, and who is always coming out to visit but we are still waiting, he has no money except for the car he bought recently and the medicinal pot farm in the basement of his two story house in the redwoods, and his DJ business needs funding somehow, so he calls me every now and then to let me know he is alive still and he almost got married.

Also, I think "good" is a very vague word which is used too often, and therefore has lost its' meaning. There are a lot of words like that. So pardon me if I can't come up with extraordinary writing all the time. Most of what I write is narcissistic and lacerates your throat like smoking the brown plastic cotton end of a cigarette at four a.m., mouth hanging open while the yellow fire steam flows out wondering what you are doing on the roof at this hour and if you will ever come down. Don't blame me if I send you into relapse. That's my job.

I will post my new stuff when I come up with new stuff, or edit old stuff, or splice remnants of old stuff together to form something semi-coherent. Promise.