Archive | August, 2014

yr nipples (unrated)

29 Aug


yr nipples (unrated)

yr nipples shaving their legs without
wearing underpants in front of an open
window overlooking a frisky bakery
while serenaded by the immodest blur
of downtown traffic

my mouth describing in accurately filthy detail
the last time it went down on you, how your
under-bits tasted like butter rum flavored
Life Savors, comparing the short coils of hair stuck
between its teeth to edible poetry & glorious vines

yr nipples put down the razor before demanding
politely in french to be mounted, my mouth obeys
accurately without translating, the crack/faded
Wallpaper thrusting its fists into the air as if
we were rock stars

Bret Michael groupies stare in awe and take notes
regarding our unique choice of unusual positions
lighters flick themselves into tiny handles of wild fire

in our honor, our graphically athletic coupling causing
the lyrics to every Motley Crue song, even the ones
about blatantly banging strippers at strip clubs

to stop goofing around on their motorcycles
for a couple of minutes and blush

(from my book Dusk Hearts Dawn aka Package Gigantis in The Deep Waffle Palace of Love)


Deeper Than Anus

28 Aug


deeper than anus
(for Andi Todaro)

deeper than anus
more thoreau than Emerson
my Dostoyevsky dreams
of dipping its crime
into your punishment
rewriting my John inside your updike
swallowing my Charles between
the wild fairy tale of
your dickens

it has been four long nights since last
we flounced each other
and I am appropriately haunted
in that spooky good sort of way

my long Neruda has been forever
retranslated by the subtle
clench of your perfect sonnet
and each night the sun strategically sets
as if re-enacting those maniacal events
leading up to and also including the
noble impaling of your paper back
upon my denis johnson

your love is full of surprises
it fails to fail
my Rod consistently serlinged
by the un-predictableness of your
twist ending

I am on fire with the destruction
that is involved with being
forced to endure such intervals
that take place between our time together
these horrific little chapters of life
reluctantly spent outside your book club
there is a noble history involved

in the wrecking of such things

and spread wide across the course
of this impressive history
you’ve rectum all

(from my book Dusk Hearts Dawn aka Package Gigantis in The Deep Waffle Palace of Love. Baobob Tree Press)

If Your Boobs Cost More Than My Car Payment

27 Aug


if your boobs cost more than my car payment


if your boobs cost more than my car payment

then I might need a ride back to the house

why does this general anxiety against everything

insist on throwing our potato chips in the oven?

I’m afraid

your smile no longer comes naturally

the upward curves

look digitally inserted

your wide lens invokes isolation

this telescope cracked by your silicone distance


what the Big Dipper lacks in youth

it more than makes up for in sense

of humor and the subtle joke of perspective


7 crabs + 2 crabs = see a doctor and get rid of it


with the sea shells singing

like recently pardoned criminals raised on

grain alcohol and pure rain water

sea level begets sea level

dusk hearts dawn


(from my book Dusk Hearts Dawn aka Package Gigantis in the Deep Waffle Palace of Love. Baobob Tree Press)

Red Rocks Haiku

26 Aug


Red Rocks Haiku

Jewel, do you have to
pee? No? Well what are you wait-
ing for? Get out there!

(from my book I See You, Lewis. Baobob Tree Press)

tiny shampoo

26 Aug


tiny shampoo

poetry is a one night stand
        repeated over

(from my book I See You, Lewis. Baobob Tree Press

13 Things I Learned While Watching: Speed

25 Aug


13 Things I Learned While Watching: Speed

  1. The Plot: In a post Die Hard/pre 9/11 world Graham Yost writes an action movie using the Die Hard screenplay as a blueprint (ergo: he crosses out the word ‘building’ and replaces it with ‘bus’.) Hans Gruber and his gang of thieves are rearranged into Dennis Hopper. Bruce Willis becomes Keanu Reeves. The cop who buys his pregnant wife Twinki’s is re-imagined as Jeff Daniels. Bruce Willis’ bloody bare feet are transformed into Sandra Bullock, etc., etc, etc.
  2. Sure, Speed is commonly referred to as Die Hard on a Bus. Because that’s what it is. It can’t be accused of being original, but after re-watching it tonight for the first time in a long goddamn time Speed is also something else I’d completely forgotten about. Speed is fun, in the same sort of way that Road House is fun. Or Footloose. I mean, fucking Footloose has no business being anything close to watchable. On paper the plot is downright stupid, but on the big screen it’s something else. That’s just how things work sometimes. I had a goddamn blast watching Footloose as a kid. Just like I had a hell of a good time watching Speed tonight. So you know, the little TV shunning art house hippie hipsters smoking their little trust fund cigarettes can slam it all they want, but I say Speed is necessary. Ergo: the world needs more fun.
  3. Keanu emotes from his forearms, which is still emoting. So leave him alone. Keanu’s forearms should’ve played the main character in I Am Sam instead of Sean Penn.
  4. While watching Speed this time it occurred to me, the way the bus weaves in and out of traffic, bouncing off whatever it needs to bounce off, disobeying basic traffic rules, cutting in front of everyone, behaving as if it owns the entire goddamn road, I mean, I’m not sure if the filmmakers have ever been to Boulder, Colorado, but if you have been to Boulder then it’s almost impossible to watch Speed and not pick up on the fact that the bus in the movie = some sort of eco-friendly metaphor for all the narcissistic assholes who peddle their bikes around this town as if they’re in charge of the goddamn show.
  5. The only difference being that the bus has a valid reason for being an asshole. It’s got a bomb strapped to its mechanical ball sack. The people in Boulder who dress up in their tight spandex pretending to be sponsored by corporations who have no idea who they fucking are, the people who feel like it’s perfectly ok to peddle around with what looks like a sheet of gaudy saran wrap outlining their ass cracks, the people who get mad if you treat them like vehicles when they want to act like pedestrians or pedestrians when they’re pretending they’re vehicles, these loopy fucks have no intelligent reason for behaving the way that they do. The cyclists in Boulder tend to feel that as long as they’re wearing a ridiculous costume that hugs their genitals in the sort of way that only tight neon can hug genitals and their protruding shoulder blades can be easily mistaken for belonging to an emaciated cadaver, this gives them the right to pull in front of whoever they want to pull in front of and feel superior to the rest of us poor shmucks who are driving our cars because we need to get to work.
  6. The bus in Speed behaves like an asshole because it’s an un-sentient being whose actions are being dictated by a goddamn madman. The bicyclists in Boulder possess consciousness and some form of free will and all that, and yet they still choose to behave like the goddamn Speed bus.  
  7. Keanu Reeve’s hairline is almost perfect, like a Red Baron pizza or that one song by Enya
  8. Not so fun fact: Joss Whedon re-wrote 90 something percent of the dialogue for Speed but was denied a shared screenwriting credit because (according to the new book Joss Whedon: The Biography and me listening to almost all of the Graham Yost Speed DVD commentary track) Graham Yost can be a dick.
  9. In Speed there’s a character named Helen. In the movie Helen is a nervous nail biter who thinks she’s the most important person on screen. She ends up falling out of the bus in an attempt to save herself, even though she knows that by saving herself she’s dooming everyone else she’s left behind to sad explosions and the C-4 scent of goodbye. Ergo: Runaway bus movie imitates life.
  10. Pop Quiz Hotshot: Your wife leaves you for a metro card with a dick and your car’s been hung up in the shop like an abandoned Tempo for 4 years. What are you going to do?
  11. Write my own Die Hard movie spec script maybe. That’s what I could do. Write: Die Hard on a Kite. A kite is rigged to blow if it drops within 7 feet of the ground and/or gets tangled up in some power lines or a bunch of trees.
  12. Obstacles which will be used in order to create dramatic tension:
               wind fluctuation
                a small child eating ice cream who totally gets in the way
                at one point maybe it looks like it might rain
    Also there’s a long action scene in which the hero has to run to keep the kite up because the wind has gone away without saying goodbye. Screaming things as he’s running. Stuff like “Get out of the way!” or “Get OUT of the way!” (Kite as metaphor for penis or meaning of life)
  13. Being that this is the way the world works, there are the inevitable whispers of Hollywood’s plan to remake Speed. Various directors are being considered, and because the big studios seem to take some sort of sick pleasure in fucking with the movies we grew up loving I portend trailers for the brand new Speed reboot: Tyler Perry’s Medina Takes The Bus will be hitting Youtube soon.

My Name Is Patrick Bateman

22 Aug


My Name Is Patrick Bateman

The last time we had dinner together
I was reading American Psycho
not during dinner or anything like that
I mean that I was reading it around this same time

and she was saying something about 
how she planned to get into super great shape
by not eating pizza rolls and exercising regularly,
by regularly she meant three to four times a week

I told her I was going to get into ridiculously 
excellent shape too, just like Patrick Bateman
only instead of saying Patrick I said Jason

and she said, thinking I meant Jason instead 
of Patrick “He’s not in all that great of shape.”
and I said, thinking I’d said Patrick instead of Jason

“What the fuck are you talking about? In the book
he does like 2,000 stomach crunches every day.”
and she looked at me funny
“That guy from Silver Spoons?” and that’s when 

I realized I’d said Jason instead of Patrick
and told her “No. I meant Patrick. Not Jason.”
and she looked at me as if I”d lost my mind a little bit
and asked “You mean the fucking serial killer?”

and I said “Yeah, I mean if you’re
gonna be all literal about it.”
She stopped eating her zucchini tostada appetizer, 
mumbled something about our entire time spent

together being bullshit, and then reiterated for like
the third or fourth time that evening that under no
goddamned circumstance should this night 
be considered a date. This was just goodbye

with a bar tab and a hard bodied waitress
to bring us bread sticks and stuff
And she meant it.

We were through.

(from my book I See You, Lewis. Baobob Tree Press)