Archive | June, 2015

to the fiends who have thrived here without you

29 Jun

Burger Chef Sunnyslope and 7th 1960

to the fiends who have thrived here without you

fast food is a pimp

McDonalds never loved you

Wendy’s libido is no longer flame broiled

it’s fried

Kentucky F Chicken

(from my book Avenge me. Baobob Tree Press)


Stock Footage

28 Jun



Stock Footage


Darth Vader

smokes menthols


Your smile

smokes Kools

in a windstorm


Bill Cosby

smokes Rapist Lights


I smoked

unfiltered sorrow


until your red dress

corrected me


I want to fuck

until we’ve fucked so much

that the fucking


becomes stock footage


Ed Wood was a master

of stock footage


stock footage inspired

the adventures

of The Six Million Dollar Man


stock footage

would not exist

without our fucking


everyone’s always talking

about how many words Eskimos

have for the word snow


but that’s nothing compared

to how many words the Eskimos

should have for fucking


(words falling into words

cracking letters and

drunk texting vocabulary)


because fucking

is way more fun

than snow

Red Is The Color Of Literacy

22 Jun


Red Is The Color Of Literacy


red is the color of literacy

and blue is the color of past tense

oral sex


and green is who gives a shit

what green is?!


Is there something you want to say to me?!


Because I’m listening!


goddamn it


I’m listening

Infinity, Jewel (pt 2)

22 Jun


Infinity, Jewel (pt 2)


They worked all day

and when they got home

he turned on his laptop


and Jewel decorated a Christmas tree

even though they were damn near

dead center in the middle of December’s

demise & its eventual

return to existence


(ergo: it’d just fucking turned June)


He asked Jewel about her day

and she asked him if he’d noticed

a Santa-hat-wearin’ angel

flopping around here somewhere


it’d either followed Kirk Cameron’s

crazy film career back to heaven

or maybe it just fell out of the box


She didn’t know


He’d lost angels before

so he didn’t take the missing



He promised to help her

look for it but before his promise

could clear his lips shuttle bay doors


Jewel’d already abandoned the tree

and everything decorative

that went along with it


instead of strategically placing tinsel

Jewel sat on the couch with a brazed look

on her face as if she’d awakened


to find: 1. she’d kill a man

  1. She’d wasted an unbearable amount

of her life ordering hand lotion online

  1. Hoopastank was more than just a bad dream


“What have I done?” Jewel whispered


the man mistook her words

for a tricycle

and began to ride


the verbal regret

of Jewel’s own inner horror

around the room

in a combination of both circles

and semi-circles










and maybe it worked

and maybe it didn’t


“I had a dream last night that

you were taking medication for your

anxiety and there were side effects


strange side effects”

Jewel said


The medication caused him to cum bacon.


He wasn’t quite sure how to take that


He tried to arrange her dream into

another tricycle, but the damn thing

refused to hold together


with the night slopped up against the moon


Jewel walked out of the living room

her footsteps grounded like flowers


as he sat there


specific pop songs


in a pile of his own bacon

and empty pill bottles


and cum

Love is Like Watching Games 3 through 6 of the NBA Finals When You’re Rooting for Cleveland

21 Jun


Love is Like Watching Games 3 through 6 of the NBA Finals

When You’re Rooting for Cleveland


I didn’t care

about the NBA Finals

this year

or any year


but Jonny and Shayna did

so they came over to my place last week

and we watched basketball


Cleveland had LeBron James back

after he’d left them

(which sounded insane to me!

because they never come back!)

and he was trying his hardest to make it up

to Cleveland for leaving

by winning them the title of

Best Basketball Team In The NBA


and I thought, SHIT!



This wasn’t just a game!

This was James waging

a war against


Leaving! and Heartbreak!

and all the other forces

that exist for the sole purpose

of pissing on Love!


and because of this

I found myself

immediately invested


This thing had become important!

This thing represented goddamn



It was a war of the Heartbroken

fighting their way back

to falling in Love


and Game 3 was like

that first date


I was terrified until I was nervous

and then the next thing I knew

I was drunk and I couldn’t stop smelling her hair

or cease smiling

and we liked all the same things

and had both read Don Quixote


it was perfect and it was beautiful and

the night loomed until

it ran out of looming


and when it was over

Cleveland had pulled it off!

The armies of Leaving were on the run!


and when I woke up the next morning

I had sex beard and the Morning had sex hair

and my dick felt like it’d been lifting weights all night

and the world was no longer

made out of doom


During those days between games

3 and 4 I felt bulletproof

and mighty

instead of heart whipped

and broken


Our army was winning!

And winning was fun!


but then Game 4 came around

and Cleveland lost this time


and then Game 5 came around

and Cleveland lost even harder


and by the time Game 6 swooped in

our little rebellion was already

gut-shot and outgunned


and the war was lost

only 3 games after it had started


and I thought to myself: fuck


love is Game 3

followed by heartbreak

followed by horror

followed by grief

I Dove Headfirst Into Your Bleachers Without Thinking

14 Jun

on the right track

I Dove Headfirst Into Your Bleachers Without Thinking


I wish you were

my camera scar


instead of my everyday

flesh wound


I wish photography

hadn’t got in the way

of our trick shots


I wish this poem was better

then it’s been


but it can’t help itself


keeps missing almost all of its

jump shots


I wish it’d stop doing that


and hit things


but if we got what we wanted

there wouldn’t be any wanting


and you can’t run a world without wanting


or maybe you can

but if you could

I wouldn’t know


that world,

it’s all alien

to me


my world’s held together

by wanting


like a scalp wound

held together by

a blunt camera lens indentation

and glue


I watched something like that

happen on TV last night


and then I watched it

a hundred more times

over and over again


when I was a kid I watched

a movie in which a young

Gary Coleman lived in a locker


not that this has anything to do with anything

other than: this; happened. too.


pretty sure I only watched the locker house movie



details can be fuzzy, but I know what

happened after


Gary Colman grew up to be an older version

of Gary Colman


the locker he lived in grew up

to be a photographer


I grew up to be the guy

who dove headfirst into your bleachers

without thinking


the crowd screams like a bucket of

Alanis Morissette songs


as I limp back to the locker room

to bleed all over everything


until the next game

eyebrow to eyebrow

7 Jun



Fort Vending Machine: a poem in four collars


dedicated to The Six Million Dollar Man and Vladimir Mayakovsky



Collar 1:


eyebrow to eyebrow


today I saw the whole world bleeding real jobs


today I saw a giraffe penis

fully staffed


I saw both things


for the first time


side by side





sweating wet serum


cracking safes

in dried blood




more people were killed by wheelbarrows

then killed by Madonna


but that’s only because

wheelbarrows never sleep

and Madonna didn’t get out of bed

until noon


eyebrow to eyebrow


we are the generation

that walks around with

black eyes

while pretending

like champs

that we dodged

the punch


the only things that scares us more

than eating shit pies at 12:30

is the goddamn thought

of skipping lunch


we are an eyebrow

stalked by an eyebrow


we are the facial hair

in denial of the face



it’s a goddamn crazy



like getting stuck in

a traffic jam caused

by a baseball game


or breathing


or love