Tag Archives: automatic writing

My Foot Fell Asleep And It’s Having Those Dreams

11 Jan


My Foot Fell Asleep And It’s Having Those Dreams


my foot fell asleep

and it’s having those dreams again, where


we alphabetized all our typos

and did sex stuff in front of them


until the correct spellings came out


He Just Yawned

11 Nov

shia cry

He Just Yawned

Watching the new David Foster Wallace bio-pic

made me miss my old bandanas it made me start

blaming Jesse Eisenberg for things that he was probably

never involved in it made me start drinking more

Diet Rite I get sloppy when I’m sober while she always tended

to sober up after being sloppy but that doesn’t seem like something

that should be insurmountable, right? That sounds like something

that should be totally mountable! I’d mount that, right?

Wouldn’t you mount that, Helen? Shit I know I’d promised myself

I’d stop writing about the shit you mount but fuck you. You should want

to mount that! You should….I’m sorry I got distracted Shia LaBeouf’s live streaming

himself watching 72 hours worth of his own movies and he just yawned

Helen, you preternatural mounter of damn near everything else

besides that thing that was us working this out

he just yawned

I Don’t Have To Look Behind Me, All I Have To Do Is Squat

4 Nov



I Don’t Have To Look Behind Me, All I Have To Do Is Squat


“I don’t have to look behind me

all I have to do is squat.” she said

because that’s how she ordered a ham sandwich in public

because almost everything she’d ever said would sound sexual


I don’t know why

I tried to ask her if she wanted my pickle

but it came out sounding like I was miss-quoting

George Clooney in the most unsexy way and


I can’t remember any of the specific details

of the last time that we had lunch together



but I know what it’s like: being hungry

I’ve been eating Netflix movies and frozen vegetables for days now

Wait: what were we talking about?   are we talking?   what’s the fuck’s up with


Arguing With Math

1 Nov


Arguing With Math


in this world in which you’re not around

evolution starts over, birds drop from the trees

having developed staplers where their wings

used to be and earthworms achieve a base level of sentience


only to discover that they’re almost 90% shaped like penis

and the parts that aren’t penis shaped look like penis anyway

so to the outside observable universe their level of looking like penis

or whatever this goddamn Facebook’d world prefers to call it


is pretty much 100% in this world

in which you’re never around

our past has been divided by silly putty


and I am outnumbered without you

and there’s no arguing

with math

I Keep My Coat On The Floor Tonight Because She’s Gone

28 Oct

tiny coat on coat rack


I Keep My Coat On The Floor Tonight Because She’s Gone


the population of yesterday is waging war against the past-

urized dignity of my dick staring out the window at the rain

during a long night of mentally painful screen shots and suffering

if her vagina is a coat rack then her boyfriend’s penis


is a tiny jacket

but it’s not raining where her boyfriend’s tiny jacket lives

right now like it’s raining where my dick lives

where my dick lives: it’s pouring


my right hand looks older than my left hand

and my left hand looks older than the plot to Olympus Has Fallen

and the fact that it’s raining almost everywhere always


is almost the only goddamn thing tying this poem together

I’m almost consistently amazed by people who can sleep because I can’t sleep

I keep my coat on the floor tonight, because she’s gone

Paraphrasing Tom Petty

13 Oct

Tom+Petty (1)


Paraphrasing Tom Petty


She was fond of the boy she was currently sleeping with, horses

and The United States of America—maybe not in that order

nevertheless: she would celebrate getting finger banged like it was Columbus Day

her vagina sympathized with the Native Americans


her vagina was a highway driving through somebody

else’s backyard just like everything else

a sucker for skateboards while at the mercy of gravity

He felt really bad about the state of his handshake


and that he’d as of yet failed to pursue his dream

of becoming a professional sky writer but these were

the days in which every hour seemed to be named after


some goddamn street sign in California and in every other neighbor’s house

the goddamn dogs refused to stop barking and maybe he did love her

and everything but     THOSE FUCKING DOGS!            he just had to: go

Their Record Player’d Been Lost

13 Oct


Their Record Player’d Been Lost……………..


Their record player’d been lost in the not so great shark attack of 2010

her blood replaced with half step orchestration and strong teeth

his blood replaced with warm chum and what was left of the vinyl

and when I listen to their songs I feel horrible


like overhearing an old sea monster trying to fuck a cave

almost reluctantly, like it’d rather be home hovering above

the ocean floor watching Netflix and pretending to fly helicopters

it loved the cave more than it loved not loving it


but where had that ever got it? did it love it enough to start

trying again? remember when Johnny Depp and Wynona Rider

were in that music video together


for that one Tom Petty song? did it love it enough

to start eating meals at a dinner table and binge watching