Tag Archives: Taylor Swift

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


If You Stare At My Nose Long Enough It Looks Like A Penis

4 Sep


If You Stare At My Nose Long Enough It Looks Like A Penis


I only just noticed this yesterday


Between Trump vs. North Korea and a bad dream

Involving all the women who’ve left me vs. all the women

I’ve let down and I’ve been living with my nose now

For a really long time, still

I remember it looking other ways, but

Holy Dick Flakes, Batman!

I have no stuffed box memory of it ever

Remotely looking like this


And for the past 10 years of so I’ve been paying attention

Because Richard Brautigan wrote a poem about it

And it’s a good one

About his nose and how it was growing older

And I was a young lad at the time, suddenly horrified

By something that had not occurred to me

When I thought all the horrible things about everything

had already occurred to me, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh


Youth is an endless procession of discovering

One brand new horrible thing you’ve never thought about

after another, day after day

Until the day’s become years and

The years become Grape Tic Tacs

And untouched jars of Chicken Tonight

And the Chicken Tonight becomes oblivion


So every year I get older, if I remember

I’ll occasionally check to see if that face part is getting older

Faster than the rest of the things

I’ve been on the lookout for the Brautification of my nose

For a reasonably measured amount of time


And before tonight, things had been fine as far as that area goes

But tonight things have changed again

And not in the way poetically expected

It doesn’t look older, it’s just………….


Tonight my nose looks like a penis


Fuck it

“So it goes” as KV used to say

But things weren’t always like this


My nose didn’t always look like a penis


At one point it looked like my favorite Foghorn Leghorn cartoon

At one point it looked like King Kong attempting to protect Fay Wray

And at one point, as I got older

It looked like the Bat Symbol

And every time it went down on her Gotham City

It was beautiful, and

Love would save the day


It’s been a long time now

Between tonight where my nose looks like a penis

And those past times when it last donned the cowl


It’d be too easy to blame Ben Affleck for this

So we won’t blame him, or will we?!

It doesn’t matter


Tonight, if you stare at my nose long enough

it looks like a penis

So be it


Though I still may or may not boycott the new Justice League movie

I still think of you often

every time I sneeze

Even My Teeth Are In Love With You

31 Aug


Even My Teeth Are In Love With You


At the dentist

They were playing Dido


They were fluffing their nipples against all the Novocain

They were comparing their own

Previous night’s erections to tooth decay on nitric

Slapping old ‘I Voted’ stickers atop their visible hickys

Attempting to un-memorize the plot

(moves the pawn a space or two)


While I sat in the space chair waiting for my x-rays

Reading more Chekov while wearing

That blue hat surrounded

By spit sinks and drill bits glazed in goodbyes




A raven approached, offering the deluxe co-pay quaking cleaning

In easy to feel bad about installments

And it was the end of the month, where I have no money, so

I told the goddamn bird that I wasn’t Poe

And that I’m pretty sure Chekov wouldn’t have

Put up with this shit, thusly and things like that

I sidestepped the big bill

(chess moves hounded by chess moves)

And chose the free polish option they offered after

I threw what could be considered a mini-fit



Still, on the way out I agreed to call them later

To schedule an appointment for the expenso-clean

Because what else am I going to do?

Your Queen controls the board and

I’ve grown used to my teeth

And everything at some point finds itself

Dependant on a cleaning


That said (hits the ‘play again’ button

Or whatever it’s called on the remote control thingy

In order to hear the new Taylor Swift single again)


It just pisses me off

Everything is made out of somethings

And it’s always something


Why does everyday have to feel like

The guy playing chess with Death in ‘Seventh Seal’

To the sounds of a surf war, thick step after thick step

For the ability to tread water


Historical Note:


If they made The Seventh Seal today

They wouldn’t be playing chess

They’d be playing something more intellectually relevant

To the times

They’d be playing Pokeemon Go


That’s what they’d fucking be playing!

Because life is just: Pokeemon Go?!




We spend our whole lives with our heads down

Tracking things that aren’t really there and pretending to catch them

In order to get us through to the next day


Just so we can go to the dentist, where we never fucking want to be

Just so we can get our hearts broken, weaved with the need to limp forward

Just so we can still fucking exist

26 Jul



The legend of the Yeti who went out on a fishing boat

in an attempt to win back the love of the woman

it had been verbally critical of in the past but who

it had found itself missing after she’d gone


is not a very well known legend

actually, it’s not much of a legend at all

it’s more of an ephemeral tale

that this one dude who hangs out

in the parking lot of the Broomfield Del Taco


likes to scream at people as they enter

the gas station/restaurant to purchase

their Macho Burritos and tacos with extra stuff in them

(currently known as the ‘The’ Del Taco)


nobody really listens to him

his audience being for the most part un-captivated

and in various stages of hunger


so the details are fucking shaky

but the way the parking lot dude tells it

there once lived a Yeti who’s ass was so hairy

that it made its ears look smooth like un-kissed glass

which is apparently saying something

because according to an ancient porta-potty painting of the beast

that was uncovered almost 15 years after the 1990’s

its ears were super hairy too


the porta-potty painting depicted a Yeti

who was more hairy in certain areas than others

standing on a boat

trying really hard to come off as seriously articulate

and emotionally broken


in its hands it held a long fish

pressed parsimoniously to its chest

for some goddamn reason


the dude at Del Taco

couldn’t remember why

but he knew why the Yeti was out there


the Yeti had gone boating

because it missed the girl who it had never deserved

and also it was a little bit nuts most of the time

and liked to think of itself as a more pretentious version

of Kevin Costner

Why would someone do that?

I asked the dude at the Del Taco

but the dude at the Del Taco said

he couldn’t remember


he’d smoked a whole lot of weed four days ago

and then every hour or two for every hour or two

after that until right now


and so what?! I mean, who hasn’t?

What’s any of this have to do with a goddamn

Yeti who thinks he’s Message In A Bottle era Kevin Costner

standing on a goddamn boat holding a dead fish

while pondering love?!


Ha! That’s not the right question!

The point is, Kevin Costner, he was like

great in Waterworld!

I mean, I don’t know


The Yeti thinks its emotionally attractive

because it feels the same pains as Message In A Bottle version

Kevin Costner


when in reality, who gives a fuck?!

the Yeti holding a fish on his penis-less boat

isn’t the story that we should be focusing on


we should be focusing on the story of the woman

he never deserved in the first place


fuck that dead fish toting Yeti

and the porta-potty its legend rode in on


because the legend of the Yeti

is bullshit

the legend of her, on the other hand

and : cliffhanger! sexy boogers!


her legend and sexy boogers

(and also the fact that we do our best

to not let Trump become president)

might save us





what about this?

25 Sep

tai chi

what about this?


what about this?

their music pissed off the dance floor

so the dance floor took off

there was a broken harmonica

where his heart used to be

record stores vs. Spotify

the world’s been taking selfies since then

instead of playing the piano

which is pretty: fucked up

their music pissed off the dance floor

so the dance floor took off

but not before taking a selfie

the dance floor took a selfie

and then it took off

because it couldn’t stand their music

so he was like, fuck dance floors

he liked their music

even though nobody was playing it


he liked their music

and he liked the fact

that he no longer gave a shit about McDonalds

and he liked astronomy

and Taylor Swift songs

and talking to the lone hippo

at the zoo

because with these things

like Taylor Swift and the hippo

with these things he at least knew where he stood

instead of where he was standing

which was nowhere near the goddamn dance floor

that’s for sure

because the dance floor had split

fine, fucking move on with it

but his feet just wouldn’t quit bitching

even though they’d proved clearly incompetent

in the genre of dance

he wished he’d have taken lessons or something

when he’d still had the chance

he wished that Bill Murray would win an Oscar

he wished he’d stuck with it when he was younger

and gotten really good at Tai Chi

instead of giving up because he’d injured his testicle

doing David Carradine’s Tai Chi moves from

the book Learn Tai Chi the David Carradine way

or whatever it was called

around 12 pages in, following all the instructions

and diagrams and charts, he’d twisted in a way

which had caused his left testicle to twist

in a way that left testicles where never meant to be twisted

twisted to the point where the pain damn near became sentient

and started its own Facebook page and ran for President

that pain causing him to go to the doctor

where he was forced to tell the pretty medical assistant

who’d asked him what he was there for that

I twisted my hmmmmdhfm doing David Carradine Tai Chi.

and because he’d fumbled the word ‘testicle’

she was forced to ask him to repeat himself

and because he’d already discovered that it was pretty much

impossible to say the word ‘testicle’ in front of this woman

because maybe he loved her

he rephrased everything until it came out as

I think I hurt my left nut

zen poem: three

31 Oct

t swift three

she misplaced her pumpkin patch

for a little while and replaced it with

an entire Nation’s fear of Ebola

as the lost panda misplaced

puking eucalyptus for

you forgetting her birthday

before remembering you haven’t forgotten

her birthday

she’s forgotten you

How The Finger Went Mad: Knuckle 1

19 Sep

How The Finger Went Mad: Knuckle 1            

Every night The Finger

wakes up shaking

despite the fact

that ever since the thing

that happened


it’s been unable

to fucking



because sleep is a Beatlejuice House-shaped-cookie-jar

and that place from which The Finger’s recently escaped

is something angry, fueled by the fact

            that it’s been built specifically not to love you,

            tossing the cookie jar at the back of your skull

            and accidentally missing

over and over again

            by a goddamn fraction of an inch


The Finger remembers everything

from the  unintentional foreplay

to ‘go time’

to being completely submerged

inside the dark circular pocket

of vortex’d doom


and everything after that

until exit

was like being buried alive

without the comfort of coffins

and the terrible knowledge

that it’s not dirt

that surrounds you

in this ground hole

            It’s not dirt!


and this knowledge is sewn to electrons

which are sewn to the pure horror

            of reluctant knuckles

sewn to a pair of disheveled Levis

and then sold to a mad fabric store

where its paralyzed sanity spends the rest of its nights

hanging from old fabric racks


coughing up dust

           but not dust

Fuck! If only this shit could be……….

if only

it could be



The Finger pulls itself out of bed

and taps its way into the kitchen

seaking water

but instead of water it cuts

straight to the whiskey



The Finger’s cuticles weep

while the surrounding 4 other digits

mumbled shit like “Somebody’s being over-dramatic”



“We were there too” The Thumb splurts out

“and you don’t see us loosing our goddamn minds about it.”



“But you didn’t go inside!” The Finger screams

“You don’t know what it’s like in there!

There’s no electricity and walls can read minds

and it’s unnaturally warm because the furnace

burns human souls instead of  things

like coal or back issues of US magazine

or wood!”


The Thumb refuses to argue

and The Finger  has lost all attention spans

when it comes to The Thumb


because the nightmares have taken over

the asylum in his head where all these memories

of that one night sit in the game room

hiding their meds in the soft cheeks beside  tongues

and jerking off

to old VHS tapes of Judge Judy



The Finger spends the rest of the night

trying to drink the madhouse into forclosure

while listening to Taylor Swift Jake-Gyllenhaal-break-up songs


cursing the state of modern romance

and hating the bleak world for being such

an ass


(to be continued………..)