9 Jun


aka Where were they supposed to go after this?


Their love

was like a sink

  1. another color named by robots
  2. something assholes threw unfinished plates of spaghetti in

or crusted bowls of overtly-andante sadness

burnt toast

and jacked up forks


Their love was a graffiti torn sink

built to hold history and spoons,

a partially consumed sponge


and to once in a while, occasionally, piss in

when it’s late and the world’s too heavy to walk on

and the bathroom is all the way up the stairs


don’t judge me!


there is a beach in my pocket

where time drinks alone

and the bladder gets circled by sharks


so I sink


because up the stairs is a long way to travel

when you’re this alone

and the moon insists on poking


and you’ve really gotta pee

Grass Bat

5 Jun

Grass Bat


Her hair was the color of yesterday’s favorite chew toy

and his eyes reminded her of a blue crayon

left to die in the mud


their love held on like a bat made out of grass

they lived in a cave surrounded by lawnmowers

but they had a defensive arsenal of dvds


and compensable sex parts

and for a while the lawnmowers couldn’t get them

until eventually even the cave turned against them


because nothing lasts forever except war

and that goddamn Celine Dion song

I mean, fuck, it just goes on forever


unlike the grass bats

a grass bat has the shelf life of a sensitive mammal

made out of uprooted plant clippings


(fuck) all these goddamn every day-by-day extinctions

(historic note: that’s how watching

For Your Eyes Only alone was invented)


the grass bats are gone

Bank Butt

3 Jun

Bank Butt


Hey, Bank Butt


Is that where you keep your cautiously-horded investments these days?

Because I’m in need of some saving

and I wouldn’t have thought of keeping it there


I’d like to apply for a debit card

What exactly would be the process………….Wait!

I mean, if I ain’t thought of something like that already

(ergo: stashing such things in the butt)

What other things have I forgot to think about?


(insert alternate curse-type word for ‘shit and/or fuck: there)


What if sharks love Rice Crispy Treats more than people?

My penis is not bigger than that cake pan, damn it

How long has it been again exactly, that I’ve been this



Bank Butts,

A new term made to represent a robot’s interpretation of color

but (not butt)

what are robots supposed to know about finance and anaL?


Finance: Shit, most likely a bunch, actually

(Historical Note: as soon as the robots learn greed

like the robots have already learned greed: we’re fucked)

Anal: either,

Pretty much everything there is to be known about all of it

(I miss you)

or …………. nothing at all

This New Internet Troll Who Keeps Threatening To Kill Me Is Kind Of A Prick

1 Jun

This New Internet Troll Who Keeps Threatening To Kill Me Is Kind Of A Prick


I suppose I should be flattered, maybe

or disappointed in humanity

or equally outraged

or sitting in a quiet bar somewhere listening to Steve Perry

and re-reading Dune

but I’ve got my very own literary Internet Troll stalker now

He’s read a bunch of my books

and in his initial internet introduction there was the implication

that he liked them, that they’d made a connection

and he even apologized for intruding but he was wondering if I could share

a little insight into a few of the broken hearted ones

that I’ve put out there over the years

and his tone was gentle, almost tender

like how I imagine a self-involved prick would speak to a stern cop

writing him a ticket for making love to an Arbys roast beef sandwich in public

or the way John Hinkley Jr. tried to come across

when he was writing Jodie Foster about how great it must be,

just being Jodie Foster

and even more so when it rains

but I’m not Jodie Foster

ass hole (learn how to separate words you stunted prick)

so when he started ranting like a fist full of stolen lunch money

bunkered down in the 39 year old sweaty pocket

of a spoiled 8 year old

about a particular person who I will always care for

and wish only the best things that are still possible to obtain

in this bullshit Trump inspired hate filled version of new America

I skipped straight to the end

because I’ve got better things to do

(finish reading this importantly great book about tyranny,

and I’ve got a novel to finish, and also on the TV right now

they’re playing back to back episodes of The Incredible Hulk)

then trudge through an unsolicited manifesto like that

and I replied like they replied in the 1930’s

honestly, respectfully, while snorting something they used to call Rum

I replied with a simple response, super-simply


“Fuck off, Carl.”


while also maybe thinking, whoever said it was always nice meeting a fan

had a warped definition of ‘nice’ while also part-way figuring

that was that

which it wasn’t, my brand new stalker who’s favorite hobbies

seem to be tough guy talking on the internet, sloppily referencing

long sections from the Mad Max movies, and reiterating the cliché-fact

that he’s secret named himself after a 1970’s Charlie Bronson vigilante

who’s superpower is squinting like he hasn’t taken a bowl movement

since the 1960’s and shooting stunt guys in the head


(Ha! not so long story (it’s only been a week now maybe) short

Mister Smoochbritches has spent his recent days doing that thing that he does,

sticking his dick in and out of an old Easy Bake Oven while screaming “Oh Bethany!”

and threatening to kill me


Well, Sir!

(if that is your dick’s real name)

I am no stunt double

There is only one of me

And you’re gonna have a hard time sneaking up on me

while I’m at work at Chuck E. Cheese

when I don’t actually work at Chuck E. Cheese!

That’s just false info I’ve floated out into internetspace

because 1. I love Chuck E. Cheese

and also 2. I thought it was funny

and now that that’s where you’ve promised I’ll meet my own doom

  1. Because now it makes you funny


Funny little man

with his multi-paragraph stutter

(Historical note: You don’t need to send every draft version threat

about how you’re going to kill me. Just send the one you like best.)






Mountain Dew: Dew.S.A.

14 May



Part 1

I left the house today because I needed pajama shorts, tortilla chips, and a box of purple hair dye. While I was at the store I found a discount rack t-shirt for $2 with a picture of two sentient sausages hugging on it. They were smiling and had arms and legs and happy sausage mouths. They looked like they were in love, so I bought that too.

While walking towards the robot assimilated check out booths I was almost feeling pretty good about stuff for a change. Those sausages had given me optimism. Sausages are pretty gross when you stop to think about it. Sausages are blatant tubes of meat. Just like a human being. Human beings are tube shaped meat too, but a human being’s meaty-ness is a little more subtle.  There are differences. When you meet somebody new you generally don’t want to put a bunch of mustard on them and when you meet a new sausage your first instinct isn’t ‘I wonder if it wants to go to the movies with me.’. You don’t feel like asking it out on a date.

Right? These things are different, and also similar. (Shit, now I want to put mustard on you) Point being: If sausages can find love, then maybe there’s hope for all the rest of us. Maybe I’ll find love again too.

So I was almost feeling pretty good and then I stumbled past a new soda display and all that recently found optimism hit the ground and splashed out. A new flavor had been unleashed into the world, like liquid rabies or a brand new sex disease that makes your dick hurt. The kind of flavor marketed towards modern day fact-haters. A flavor designed for the gullible electorate who say things like “He’s a business man! We need somebody who’s gonna run this country like a business man!” and who defend the Confederate Flag like it was a 4 minute old puppy. The sort of flavor that knows all the words to Kid Rock songs. The kind of flavor specifically engineered for people who think science is for jerks.

And just like that, I was in a bad mood again. Sausage love is just a dream. Fuck. The modern world is made up of last straws. Soulless corporations run everything. That war has been lost. We’re living in occupied territory. “John Doe has the upper hand now!”.  Why do I care what the everyday collaborators are drinking? If they want to drink their Freedom Juice and pretend the grass is still green, so be it. “Hi Ho”, as Vonnegut used to say. I abandoned the brand new soda display, paid the robot for my shit, and drove super-fast back to the house.


Part 2

Mountain Dew S A is the perfect drink for the new Trump era. Take a big sip. You can taste America dying in your mouth.

It’s literally 3 flavors in one! The Human Centipede of modern beverages! The recipe is basically this:

Step 1 Bloat an already bloated Donald Trump full of  high-fructose corn syrup, brominated vegetable oil, and generic flame retardant. Simmer while the crooked bastard tweets for 20 minutes.

Step 2: Trump shits in Sean Spicer’s mouth, throw in a bunch of cinnamon, and then get Spicer to shit in Kellyanne Conway’s mouth. Conway shits in a test tube shaped like a medium sized bucket. Replicate the results on a massive scale, carbonate the hell out of it, bottle, and serve.

Fun Fact: If you run out of gas because you were busy denying climate change and forgot to swing by the local Gulp and Go, just drink a couple of MTN Dew S.A.s, wait 5 minutes, and then piss in the gas tank of your bullshit monster truck. MTN Dew S.A double-jobs it as automotive fuel.

Fun Fact 2: If you drink 4 bottles of Mountain Dew S A in a row your urine will smell like your insides have diverged themselves of empathetic freedoms and basic human rights. Your toilet will hold it against you.

Coming Soon: Diet Pledge of Allegiance and Jazzberry Bible Dew.

Everything Is Fucking Something

5 May


Everything is fucking something


Where’d you learn to fight?

From watching Good Will Hunting?

It shows

A Year Without Prince: Part 1

28 Apr

A Year Without Prince: Part 1


A year?


(stomp down on that delay pedal)


How has it already been a year?

(year year year)


Where the fuck

has everything gone?

(oh, right)

(you keep it in there)

(as long as the water’s warm enough/that’s hot)




Our whole world’s been swallowed by ego

like it was sloppy joe sauce

or left over wine


(what’s this button do?)

(It’s either wired to take down the EPA

or inform the staff that President Parched Asshole

wants another Coke)


Things that have pride besides doves:


Fascists, fast cars, furiously bald actors,

Bon Jovi, bulldozers, heavy sleepers,

trampolines, outrageous synth solos,


winery-s and sandpaper

politicians and the occasional parade

stiff dinner rolls

and hard doom


(fast guitar solo)

(outsourced belly dance moment)

(We should continue this conversation over thongs)


How many days are there in a year again?!

(primordial scream)

I don’t know

52 seconds and our pants are still on?

(proud keyboard fart)


(Easy baby, that thing’s my weiner

not an ice pick)

(whisper) (Better like that

or not better like that?)


Things that are never satisfied

besides Prince’s mom:


Vampires and jazz licks

truth’s vibrator and pure love

John Mayer’s girlfriends

and overly planned picnics

natural disasters

and tone deaf billionaires

in a park


Wake up wide eyes!

(got ta got ta got ta)


Harry Styles is a pubic hair trend

not a pop star!


Lake Minnetonka isn’t a lake

it’s a goddamn state of mind!


Legend has it there was this one night

when Prince danced so hard

the universe cried dead light

and Prince pissed mozzarella and black olives

until the lady he’d hung his heart on screamed




Now I want Pizza!


and Prince was like, “Troy, I don’t serve ribs”

and Troy said “I’m not Troy, darling. I’m Prompelunia

and I said pizza big shot, not ribs”


And Prince was all, “Sorry. I thought

you were kinda quoting one of my albums. Shit, yeah

(bang down hard on the sus2 chord)

We should get pizza


So they did