i'm bish bashing a wallaby into a funny stance
wanna mack on honeys with me?
fill our fun skulls with all sorts of images & the smells
yr thinking abt when gobbling down that neon ice cream
brain colors confusing brain colors with brain colors
bring me something made of clown blood
some changing geyser a machine can control
sort of like a basketball that strengthens when you touch it
of course, i will never be michael jordan, my success won't become
tangible ever ever ever ever ever ever in my life
crashing into ether
when i think too much
you know who i am
hear how i hear
how how i hear how
i hear how you hear how
hear how
in the ugly sun
the massive thermometer is leaking mercury all up on us
look in our guts
of course they are deformed
a science experiment displaying a
just-broken world
mare, mare, mare, let me sing you a song:
blinders give us cancer
off-roads give us cancer
who records give us cancer
the oxford english dictionary gives us cancer

i forgot the words even though
i'm the one making them up
i want crash landings to become the human norm
to twitch a crashing gate so it's a living thing
be somebody should become
be some thing inanimate
that should be our cry
a walrus bellowing could bellow the hell out of it,
"this song sounds like rotting fucking lives,"
it might bellow,
"day after day i sing it & still a terrible smell
is engulfing my life!
this song sounds like rotting fucking lives!
the reason i blamed the snake in the first place is so a
king could exist at all!
or is he more comparable to a drug dealer?
a rain tent folded right?
or is he like the road?
their explanation
i've never immediately wanted
another meatball sandwich,"


Needles Highway

also tabloid, a driving range’s plaque as when sandbars drop-off, this question mark over time’s oriflamme─to this─ I’ve no quarter given but taking needles highway, granite narrowing each side owing the road their explanation each tunnel knowing sirens to satiety a rain tent folded right, this day, blinders off in the look of a just-broken mare


i wanna

i wanna fill yr brain with my brain
bring some sort of a substance to the tangible
when you hear how i hear
who cares if you hear it, you're not hearing it if you're hearing like i'm hearing it

so who the fuck even wants to be a disk jockey
is this guy really the king? or is he more comparable to a drug dealer
or is he like k. reeves in point break
i wanna be a drug dealer


i've never had a meatball sandwich and immediately wanted another one
but that's g. busey for ya i guess
he'd be the best drug dealer
he'd be the best disk jockey
he'd be the most interesting father
he'd be the least likely to tell ya what he really, really wants

i wanna watch you watch point break



  1. tom
  2. ruth
  3. jason
  4. paul
  5. kyle
  6. alisa
  7. jessica
  8. josh
  9. rachael
  10. joy
  11. jerod
  12. kelsey
  13. mike
  14. joel
  15. erica
  16. matt
  17. justin
  18. sarah
  19. amanda



I don't drink every night anyevermore
In the proper sense of belief I have none at all
Still I believe that now I can at least equal
the dead men of my line at early eighty something or so
as they did.

For the medics in Reykjavik or Nome
the first rule of thumb
is 'Not dead until Warm and Dead'
The Frozen Brain does not starve for blood
Some have been restored in full hours after falling through the ice and becoming it.
Children in particular can be salvaged
A small Ultimate Truth buried with Han Solo
Or any number of dimebacks with diminishing returns
Full Hefner Sauna in Trauma one

On Labor Day I discovered a flask abandoned
by a Husker fan for fear of police
By A clean person from West Center Rd
Somewhere between 72nd Street and Gering
who hates deviance and told his son to look out for his sister
When he saw Kevin Running Bear passed out on the Mall
This is what I inferred and what I know

 A furious mob dragged her to the Pretorium before an imperial magistrate. The Christian virgin laughed at the stone and wood gods, and glorified the true God she adored. In loud, eloquent words, she praised Him there in the Pretorium. The pagan judge handed her over to the gladiators to be infamously abused at their pleasure. Marciana remained fearless and serene. For three hours the gladiators were rendered immobile by an unknown terror, and were unable to touch the virgin.

There's an Arabesque wrapping around my new flask
Like Wallpaper from the Seventies that is still very common
in Dive Houses; Dive Hotels, converted Rentals
I remember that Nicole thought I was more skillful with my fingers than with myself
I was dizzy and crooked in the legs
I had the first case of Ethanol heartburn I'd ever had
In return I bought her cheese fries on her request
Then we ignored her bed to deliberately mock the celibate
in the Church across the road

 Mostly I only drink on the weekends anymore /Socially mostly anymore
Though I have a flask now and this compels hard liquor
At Ivan Beran's funeral I learned that Grandfather had a 64
oz good customer cup from Kwik Shop
That into his seventies he would fill it to the top 
with four parts cheap bourbon and two parts seven up.  
I remember he would mostly nap in the afternoons
sometimes be a dick in the mornings
If the kids touched his flat year-old 7-Up he would be enraged

"O Christ, I adore and love Thee. Thou wert with me in the prison and kept me pure. Now Thou dost call me – O my Divine Master – and I go happily to Thee. Receive my soul."
After she spoke these words, a ferocious leopard tore her apart, opening the road of Heaven to her. 

On Saturdays I might sleep to eleven o'clock or one.
Then I have chicken and eggs both together generally.   


No Named Thing's Worth Keeping

Who's been chucking dixie cups
in the dried up tombs
and who's been swapping out
my souvenirs for slop
Every little thing I feel's 
the realest whittled spear
and every pithy phrase I fake
ties the dumb mouth that I've got
Who's been tossing rotten fruit
in my office garbage pail
as it blackened past a puckered thumb
a slivered molar caught my tongue

God someone pass me back that bottle
someone balk my drunked up grief
someone ready my old kneeling pads
I'll punch in my pink knees, say:

Our father was a flag pole
and our mother was a widow
Say we've never had a brother 
and we'll never be born
Say we've never been but wailing
towers of skidding silver tacks
Say now's the time we won't stop curling
what they razed comes sprouting back

Someone type up all the rules 
of an emotional whore 
Bawl it in the yard this time:
Home's where you know
that nothing's yours