Wednesday, April 30, 2008

napowrimo #21

Crank dipper under deli liable
ponderosa gate oil diatomic in
sees and doppler leather king
pasteurized brick olde blog sic
surge pox whigs pee argonauts
fight raid quit doing trees it
Concorde pogo lip service dies
dice ruby irked your Jungian
oboe junkie reaping ewe postal

napowrimo #20

My than porterhouse Nike for
koala enough trips lifer lob
deal robot toss meteor brother
important they outside life lid
mole heap debt tortoise riser
child torque cling dare make
seed poll ingot Danzig salting
roll Einstein aisle loft narc
suite blue karaoke knoll getter

napowrimo #19

California media raisin sis
or polaroid Politburo toil
is Dior then terrier poll
life anything pier ogre die
axe pyre onto Romulan big
over feed normal Zoro ok
flame sore loose inking

napowrimo #18

Contraband usual chloroform
geese knees boiler if and
signal signal or rise on
tailor deity polar chorus
the house to do hollow money
good wise down Yale roll
carotid night deer pike
or drink Wayne pewter tie
face gully ice robust kid


Orange coat deplore carotid
Jakarta cheeba saguaro bill
La Guardia tulip trachea
Shane and or smile keeps to
tiger or Iggy prize floors
Lego deputized your spider
keloid motor Oklahoma walk
Redondo Redi-Whip nobility
Vegas dunno pier pilot as
lid husband easel nightie

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Monday, April 28, 2008

napowrimo #14


The flippant, "Dude, the universe is FUCKED
tonight, Adam." That's why I just bought $10
Wayfarer knockoffs. The walls are beaming at
me or maybe that's just the witch blood I
drank. Talking. Found out that your madre
tiene muchas Gonzagas, naw mean? Fa sho.

Crispin Glover deck shoes are now a million
dollars for just the left shoe. My clothes
actually look like censorship pixelation. It's
skin colored. Have you heard of the Free Masons?
Moon walking? JFK assassination? Free Masons?

I think we should put Dan Brown on the FI' DOLLA
BILL, you? Weren't you on the guest list? No
fair recordin' this shit. Do you fancy your Brooklyn
fuck dill chill Ziggy Stardust mime tennis? You
don't free lance moonwalk? SHIT! What am I fucking
here for then? I wish someone would have told me.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

napowrimo #13

Steampunk Maryland Colostomy Bag Acid Wash Lord's Day

Steampunk Maryland colostomy bag acid wash Lord's day.
The old eat the old birds. The old man carrying along
with brown slacks. The radio station blowing up Freddy
Krueger. Oh problem, oh art. Dreddy dred. Siggy Freud.

Figgy Newton. Elbow triceratops dynasty. Orange chicken
Charlie Chapman Ketonuric Diabetic Chinese Hamster. Yes,
Eating Wendy's Biggie Frosty. Yodeling "myenteric plexuses
of the small intestine indicated a love of Joy Division."

Ketamine Sodomy. Felt fucker signifying Icelandic body
wash. Nearby leggings traipse D'Addario caldron Yetis.
I dropped my beginnings near the Gatorade bucket you
poured over coach during the orgy. Red Ryder male
model ecstasy leader board. No one wears Pirate apparel.
Guillotine apparel. Say, do you crave cryogenics?

Thursday, April 24, 2008

napowrimo #12

My Version of a Summer Dress

Sominex makes us feel smart, "Guggenheim" smart. Time lapse Hiroshima. Nose candy ligatures.
Your brusque saddle, you saggy foal. Flicking your gelding or tarping your ex. Looking at
your posse with Hoover eyes. My brow, he dreamt of palsy. Let's all do Kegels. Seashell
cookie cutters. Why are we pals? I know we hit it off during the bombings. You liked me.

Here are the casual carts. Full on seaward and pale, lighting eyes. Over-sipping the rum
punch James McAvoy. Our weekend as passengers for her eyes. Tour bus full of nimble blondes
you liked and tittered. Picking crust from your Segway. Like Stevie Nicks and my ethnomusicologist
friends. They are so full of inflatable bananas. Old kin, old winsome beach flings. Old red.

Followed the bug down the hall and listened to Nico. Faker-eyed. Somebody-else. Freeway lips
around a big jug of Sunny D on I-5 with the map light on, again. Yoga in an AMPM. Jumping around
the room with handfuls of spackle. You shake your bodice at me asking, "Crunk?" To the windows
goes the light. Does right by others. In aviators and in mountains. Cage fights just in case.

Clover, adobe, rent. Old sod. Oh cogs and divans! Oakley camaraderie. Ciabatta tapenade and
girls with fear on their faces. The running of the spare tires. Bogged down avenue Michelob
Drano halter top pugilist cactuses. What was wrong with the tubs of Long Beach? Hate me yet?
Welded despots, wannado Visa with me? You don't? Well then I am sorry about all the windows.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

napowrimo #11

Voluntary Luggage

We botched the tressle, didn't we? Maybe our Black & Milds had their
own ragged up sicked up perspiration. Grr, grandpa ecosystem. Doug Fir
fuck sitter. Hut one, hut two, hut three, hut? Old dirty bastard live
and uncut. I will wear Steve Jobs as a mock turtleneck. Regal dianetics.

Feeble Shakespeare, feeble tidings of comfort and joy. Pikes, spite of
the right. Tide of the devil's paisley. Piers of the rag time and told
Osh Kosh. Tail draggers poll Keats. Rugs that say Steely Dan. We pairs
of cauterized Diebold forced hands. We were Caulkin down alleyways, what?

Prized kegs lude their way through afterthoughts. Krill in mother's
throat. Poly bags full of Kaiser Chiefs. Dollops of pall bearing kids.
Citi Bank fucks Wal-Mart and gives Wal-Mart Hepatitis C. The kids pay.
All warring quarterbacks everywhere drown themselves in Koi ponds.

Maybe it's my impulse or maybe it's codeine. Or this jug wine braggart.
Jobbers pluck sweat from their necks. Bastards dug mild blacks from the
ways. The maple is seersucker the lemon drops covered in soliloquies.
My raincoat tells me from time to time that I am maybe too big to miss.

I have

a MUXTAPE you can listen to:

Sunday, April 20, 2008

napowrimo #10

Bittersweet Culinary Mommies

With the decline of manufacturing
many residents make a meager living off
one another’s misery. Looking for fellow
clothesline fans, I came across
a lawyer and 32-year-old clothesline activist.

"I'm newly pregnant and I really want to make
sure I'm eating arugula clothespins."

I discover George clooney's secrets of dating.
Clive Barnes, in The New York Post, called it
repetitive and self-congratulatory, with banal lyrics.

So, if you’re pregnant or considering pregnancy,
watercress is the ultimate weapon of courtship.
Her shaver is her secret vibrator - It’s good for
pregnant mommies to know they aren’t
alone and they aren’t some poor intern.

Heard of the fellowship of my pregnant-women-eating fish?
I am having an affair with your fluids.
Ashlee Simpson is pregnant with locally grown arugula.

If you want me to eat a bowl of my German friends
you’d have to pay me $10. I am so tired of the nude
pregnant shots of Pork Medallions.

Monday, April 14, 2008

napowrimo #9

did you get a transformer
breast augmentation or is that
a banana in your pocket?
did you get a quality
assurance boyfriend or is that
your grandma dressed like screech?
i don't know these things.

napowrimo #8

do you know the old
adage "supplier requirements dog training?"
blase arachnids crowd around my
outstanding purchase orders. the light
surrounds this row of children.
they are last in line.

napowrimo #7

please review the attached spreadsheet
this is the quantity of
benign tumors in outer space
please fill this out and
return it to me asap.

napowrimo #6

botttle nosed dolphin wars are
tearing me apart. they break
our infrastructure with steel machetes.
how can we stop this?

napowrimo #5

hold down the button until
it pops or you hear
a whale come from work.

napowrimo #4

my heart dwells in a cave overrun
with girls affected heavily by scoliosis.
remember when the nurse checked us all?
back then i could hear the beeps from
both sides. left arm up, away from class.
weren't we all so sure of filth's nature?
now my drawers are a stack of
swim suit edition models baring
painted on flags. this is an outright
political statement about the mass
murders of bees. the single most
crucial part of our crowdedness. the
sun is going away again. i left a
message on a german answering
machine but i couldn't tell if
they were saying leave a message
at the beep or i'll kill you in your sleep.

napowrimo #3

how hyperreal is a red wheelb...
oh, sorry. it's just that i am so saturated
today, with simple green.
hello, dawn, pleased to meet you via
videoconference. this is our aha! moment.
this is our web campaign.

what is a "hot buy" versus
a reiteration of the deal sheets?
this is end of life
or "opportunity" to resell
or refurb. you can have a
really great deal on "b" stock.
refurbs, but that doesn't
make it a "hot buy."

in that sense we've used
a "promotional" "catalog"
that stands on its own.
the behavior of
the reason to buy in staged quantities.

phase 2: essentially what we're doing
is using our system to monitor
your loneliness. that's gonna help
because if your heart churns through,
boom! we will know right away. between
january 31st and march 31st we
might have some things going on.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

poems at lamination colony

I have new poems in the latest edition of Lamination Colony. I haven't read any of the other pieces there yet because I have been staring at spreadsheets all week.

Everyone should read them though...

Friday, April 4, 2008

$ opportunity

i am now taking bids for the rights to this photo:


Wednesday, April 2, 2008

napowrimo 08 #2

no fish

the swift hoops are drawn through the days
though buckled
the trampled shams of the dawn

some droll contours in your hair
speak down to the waterfalls
down to dad, draining his oil on clover

hold tight now, commander. your bread is made
for not just you, but all of you.
and your wife
through clenched teeth knows her molecules.

steady goes the rough hands to the sticky keys
and deadly. through spilled drano
i go anyway, forward. or i would
if i were not so tied to the gaming world.

and that's why the days are quartered.
the sloppy ponds where you fooled us to fish
that held no fish.

be not so hexadecimally colored ye fighters!
the dances are not so seismic anymore
with sms
who needs slow dancing

there is this protocol that
you have and it reminds
me too much of dead maybelline.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

new poem +a hybrid+

Ode to oh-oh-oh-oh

Jump back, what's that sound?
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though I had drunk
an on-ramp. I can barely see the road from
the heat comin' off of hemlock.
Comin' through my bedroom.

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains.
Here she comes, full blast and top down
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine power steerin', -
That thou, light-winger, hot shoe, burnin' down the avenue?

Ain't nothin' like it, her shiny
Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Poppin' shadows of beechen green
Singest of summer in full-throated ease,
“I'll get her! Keep the movin' parts clean.”