February 2011
2 posts
My poem is up on Everyday Genius today. →
January 2011
4 posts
Slowcore Pornography
He says I’ll find him where the oil refineries meet the sea, where the black houses burn down to a pure black landscape and a serious lack of courage. He says that verily my children will fill the dollhouse, my muscles shall quake with their candlelight. I feel the dead. I feel the girth of the museum. I need rare and exquisite. I need stabbed through a red curtain. I need where oil...
December 2010
1 post
Heather
Sarah is in her dressing gown and her Autumn sweater. Rachel has pine cones In her teeth. Even the dream itself has breasts Like low-lying clouds in a fat man’s Hands. The seasons, verily, will never end. Get up and go out into the field, my boy, Where the girls are standing Among the artworks. Your heart Shall never be golden. Your blonde hair shall never rise up From the sea. Hear me,...
November 2010
1 post
Poem
Cigarette Park smells like The world was burnt before it was built.
Dogs with animal heads Still feed on the fields. The beds
Are nailed to clouds. Down the driveway, rain is falling
Like hair on the teenagers. These are the last days.
Christmas lights Show in the fields.
Where the horse has placed his penis, Cattle roam.
July 2010
1 post
The Casino
Maybe when the blue man walks out of his blue house into blue light and the glass woman’s glass eyes are her mother’s eyes, and all night long the little animals push their little ambulances down the street, maybe then I’ll drink my little glass filled with ashes. When the deaf start speaking and the deaf stop speaking and the deaf can’t speak any more is when the deaf start speaking and the...
June 2010
1 post
Slow Down
I
The Redwood Forest leaves spark-burns on my fingers
wherever I touch you.
The world is kind.
Brilliant girl collides with
brilliant car. The offgreen earth
feels incorrect. This land is your
glasscrack, this land is my glasscrack.
I hate everything that has ever happened
before this. We listen to the slutty silence
of the electric fence.
II
We go home
all night.
The leaves in my...
May 2010
2 posts
Real Sweet Like
A million afternoons just happened. Don’t get the fuck out of Texas.
I’m petting a cardboard dog With a cardboard hand. I’ve got a
“Lil Suckler” shirt under this shirt. I look real good when I’m yanked
Out of my windowed face, A weakling. Now I’m putting a card-
Board hand on your shoulder. You’re ready. You feel like the
Book of Mother when I turn you Around. There is a warmth
There. If...
April 2010
9 posts
glvno:
This was our ambition: to be small and clear and free.
Alas, the summer’s energy wanes quickly,
A moment and it is gone. And no longer
May we make the necessary arrangements, simple as they are.
Our star was brighter perhaps when it had water in it.
From “Soonest Mended,” John Ashbery.
themanchac.com →
Therapeutic
I rang out the scary as shit Slavic bells and laid down a hole in the snow. It was every storm I’d ever wanted. The brain in the sky flickered. The sun poured like bathwater. The weather could’ve been my blowjob when I fell off into sexy nothing and all the electrical sockets burned out. When I rot into place, whole god damn world’ll smell like my black brain. It’ll be heaven. I’ll play...
“I am a writer training as a sculptor who wants to be a chef working on a farm.”
– Ryan Conn
Microphone
And you stepped on the glowbox and the songslab sang
and you stepped on the glowbox again. You’re as drunk
as the room is wide. You’re as drunk as the room you’re in.
The moon falls down on mute. The pines can’t move. You let
the glacier move down your back like a hanging, then you drink
its hurt tongue. You can’t count. You can’t count. Slow, aching birds
...
Jonathan Livingston - “O My Mighty...
March 2010
23 posts
glvno:
The above is leaf-math,
a high
block of cottonwood.
I am for volume.
I am for tubes in and out of the sick.
If heaven were only
where only
you could hurt you,
I would touch its dead and broadcast
their entire range of breakage.
I would breathe to within
a skin’s-width
of my sleep.
I would make a little nimbus there,
a clear heart for moths to toss against.
Late and unancient,...
Sonic Youth - “Brave Men Run (In My...
Low - “Medicine Magazines”
Things We...
Graveyard Shelves
The island falls apart, becomes itself the sea.
The ceiling fan is in love with the sea, is dead, spinning.
A red fox stain covers Blue Hill, sky-up you can see it.
A red fox stain covers Blue Hill.
Same as your polka dot sheets have blood on them, draped over the hill.
Same as they drip on fireflies and put them out.
A black fox stain walks out of day like a tarfly and falls dead.
It has...
Red House Painters - “New Jersey”
...
“I believe the love of God can be taught not to seem like bears.”
– Emily Dickinson
“Now I don’t want to cockblock your experience
but if I got cut in half...”
– Chris Lott - “In an Abstract Way, I Know What You Mean”
Stars of the Lid - “The Mouthchew”
...
“Every day his life alternated between this calm consumptive and Emmanuel...”
– A Happy Death by Albert Camus (via chickieroboto)
MAYBE JANDEK WAS JUST DRUNK
Loudspeaker (for Mimi Parker)
Just as every tale begins in sheetmetal Flashes, I am going slowly into this lake
I am going slowly into this lake. I take the nudes out from the floorboards
Lay them in milk. Beautiful Arson. I get shot in the t-shirt
And do not bleed. Shocker, Shocker. I fill up the house with bells
Which I stack up and polish. I listen to coins ring under the carpet,
Electric guitar and vocals. I still...
“True Insects”
via myself, last...
Storm and Stress - “It Takes a Million...
2 tags
Low - “Whore”
Things We Lost in the...
my review of THE DIFFICULT FARM on THEMANCHAC.COM →
Geez, Jacobi
It’s only the gray scaffolding the spider webs hang on
or the piss-plant in the back of the infirmary or
skim milk running down a mirror or mountains
creeping down the broken one. It’s only
whatever crystal-eyed face you make it.
So what if you’re sleeting. If you’re slipping away.
So what if it rains down into you. You say: Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, and dad, put the telephone in a box and...
February 2010
5 posts
Three Flarves
(all lines taken from my mom’s Facebook)
I. Bowie
I’m glad you got the chance to see Bowie in space.
Vast experience!!!!! HA-HA
If I glue my eyes shut, maybe I can get some sleep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
II. Petition to Make the Day
I’m the bonus gift. I’m the bonus gift. I’m the
bonus gift. I’m the bonus gift. I’m the bonus gift.
I’M SPEECHLESS…
That’s alright we still ROCK!!!!
6...
Smoking Glue Gun
“I’m having a little get-together at my place, mother fucker.
And then I’m getting married at the Cowboy Church.
Then I’m sitting at the fake, fake typewriter to think
to think they tapped the power cord. Then I’m cutting through it
and I’m waking up.”
Like a smoking glue gun
on a velvet pillow
on a divan imprinted with a wrench.
Like a wine stain on blue paneling
next to your hand on a...
everything i've ever, ever done →
Amherst in Braille
Is that my brain on top the bus or am I just living
in the street, in the hallway? Thing after thing:
Hammer in a washcloth, knife in a washcloth.
You list off your friends to kill them,
make the floorboards tick, pulse as a Walgreen’s
sign, but your name is Los Angeles.
Hurl a rock at my mansion of Slow Down signs.
Put a leaf in the road to make it spark.
Touch the whole hydroponic garden...
January 2010
4 posts
