&honey &honey &honey &

who am i
when orange rocks
make orange sandmelt
(and i just thought creamsicle but meant)
into glass

the desert would piss milk
all over if only you could find
the urethra
but

wanderingsickness
i had a fondness for chasing if
when i tired i'd be a dove
i am tired
i am a manaching rock
chasing teeth immured in the wide
black skymouth
awake shedding a skin thick
layered honeycum

you read we can't die
from not pissing           when we die
we all piss
maybe just
little drops

house for flies

this was going on when they invented agriculture: sand dunes forming

in the back of the mouth of namibia

orange rocks make orange sand

a milky dream of carrot powder

that is money, 

i think

"& did you know," she went on "that the black mamba is called the black mamba 

not because of the color of its external scales (grey-white) but due

to the intense blackness of the inside of it's mouth?"

i, shirtless in the desert, kill a venomous snake to be closer to it

& to draw flies

in the millions 

they hover

close over a teacup so full of

diamond

that it breaks but keeps

its shape

here is a voice:

"slave-master:

starvation is not your worry

your breath is an ache from inside the rock's color

bathing me between parentheses 

in dark yellow urine"

apparently death 

in hotel toilet bowl

wrapped a snake

& come let's make

there's fire hot enough

to remove the evil haloes

that few a ships rode in on

They, bringing blackness

i assume the pose 

of the zoo-kept

& turn my maps

on the mouth of the continent

that looked over the gate

and clove to it

I’m not going to piss in anyone’s pocket, I won’t piss out this fire either

grown in furrows

patterns of blazing hills

our squint-eyes slice the sky

a seasonal dance

a Janus-glance

I’m not saying we’re prophets

but we hear the rhythms

and we’ll help you through the doorframe

not with kerosene and swaddling

nor torches and babies

we’re children of the fire, made of it

—who said that?

something in the underbrush:

     orphaned skunks in a hollow

     broken toys

     oscularies waiting

for aeration

something violent to mix them

with another, shall I pass through

or lie

in wait for my destroyer? what is

my substance? liquid or air?

errr  errring  every day

taking the dare, pissing

in the men’s urinal at church

looking for a rite that might

right you that might

upright you that mite:

you, me for example

under a golden sky

everybody kissed everybody’s hands

BLACK PISS TEETH

 

mutated my mind

as it shifted
i shit on the soft grey olive
came out my ruinous kisser
as a pit
smack surface
biting rock as a nip
tumbl down staircase too
these are nails singing
while the ‘nado sirens warn
wag a blasted brass finger
a foul a new death for us
wrapped by concrete
i am kissing you
new aerth to groww
development of my worpshiped
mind over currency
hunter god for feedss me
i am a scream
a man’s gotta eat
in the imagined sea of piss
until i am not piss
until it is only piss

i am hovering

metal and flying a winged

get high as the bottom
of the ocean
i am also in
a golden squid garden
piss on my parents watermelon
w/ my friends
all of them even the dead ones
the money we left in the dirt
the drunk and sober
drugs for my non thinker
and i in light of sweat
banked sunshine for my melting
laying in my own pool
for hours
as i fake a sleep
i am a body too

i wont suffer i can’t express
some fake fondness for violence
or the pain is this
the piss is
everything
when i build up as a passing storm
a random wind
will kill me
but i am damned by nothing
and nothing will save me

I'm changed in the way 

your brain set

Not the thinking part 

but the knowing part

that sadly set its face 

on the staircase 

And then die is right! 

Here, we're right here

in the pre-death like 

the minutes

in the blue chair

before you board the airplane

are only minutes in the one chair

before the minutes

in the plane chair or how

a screaming rabbit

snagged in the cat's teeth

is the massacre

of my imagined kindness or

how I have to piss and 

this ink is the ink

until I piss

There's that brass bird

I saw last in the place 

coated in cat piss

with the porch 

on which I set

my mother's plants 

to die and the neighbor 

let her tub run 

to cover the floor

My friend my friend 

would stop to drink

from the round cup

set carefully for him

me lying like I wasn't 

sitting waiting

and now I guess this 

is only in minutes

after that

and maybe the cat suffers 

for its nature but maybe I suffer 

for nothing my life my life

is a goddamned pom-pom

Maybe in the whole world

no one saved a seat

Death to Intelligence

"It is written forever that boys write poetry and Men Die girls sing the blues and Women Bleed" 
i mean this is a pretty dark one  are blues and poetry the same thing?  is dying and bleeding           ooolalalaoooolalala    i'm bleeding now- or i was yesterday  and i guess i'm dying too     a great horned owl arrived at my house in a blizzard and i thought it left us a baby maybe  but we didn't check we just sat in the dark and sang         "it's snow baby of mine"  and watched it turn its head around and around  atweetletweetatwiddle

maybe it means that the next generation makes art and when they lose it they suffer and die or do they suffer first   and then art     and then die

to tell you the truth, i'm in no mood for poetry  but i think i'm starting to get that quote there is a difference between living and feeling      or feeling and expressing      i was trying to explain an idea and i kept using the word "adult"      and it was and wasn't what i meant           i think i was trying to talk about people who have been changed by pain and who have come to some understanding through it     

i bet the birds are ok   i mean i live right there and they are always singing, which is as you say not just about "sex" and it's obviously not about "happiness" either but i guess it means they are "alive" and maybe not "afraid"   i bet those falcons eat lots of mice

some of you posted a study on facebook that found that people who had been found to be more intelligent than their peers in the study drink more beers    or whatever alcohol-they drink more of it      amanda said she had some thoughts    i have some thoughts too   "¡Muera la inteligencia!"

Get Low Get Low Get Low Get Low:

I mean this in a funny way too
Casual Sex is God Damned Futile




I used to like Eminem
I once drank a fifth of vodka in twenty minutes and drove
I needed drugs
I once met a parolee with six kids at 24 and one in the youth joint
She had a shrine to Eminem
It was over her bed and under her watch yourself fuck mirror
It was something we could bond over
The Eminem I mean
It was something you could assume a bond out of hand with everyone you met
I used to think shocking and funny were obviously the same thing
I used to be too cool for morals
Its hilarious to murder your wife over and over again
I had a one-night stand with a woman in a violent relationship
One-afternoon stand really
We fucked on his couch than we went to the park fed ducks and smoked weed
Everyone knew about it in the space of a day and night
I told no one. I admitted nothing
I avoided a fight with the boyfriend by drunk driving away from his questions

Once at the Alley I had a bloody mary in a mason jar for like six bucks
I'm shamed of that in a way I'm not shamed of other things
Once I had a bloody mary like half an hour after brushing my teeth
and everything faintly smelled and tasted like garlic salt for days
It was like I had just vomited an hour ago forever. 

I hate the alley but like the neighborhood
Every summer the drown of bougie cover bands at red nine
and the dance of fortysomething bud light meatheads
Behind that the near south with the smell of roses from old Klein's corners yes
Also the air of tree pollen that does not actually smell like semen
but in plain literal and biologic sense is semen
Sex is not the only reason that birds sing
any weather we find annoying tends to batter and drown the birds dead in scores
and then there's the mascot falcons we love top the Capitol
normally a big town with its trees would give the little birds cover from the prairie space
but naw
Fuck you robin
Fuck you mocking J
Fuck you woodcock
It's fucking shit to be a songbird
Billie Holiday sang the blues
And every lost artist and past generation suffered to death
doesn't really want a better future for their children
or an artless world of dry contentment
They want you to suffer too and they hate what your weak ass calls romance

It is written forever that boys write poetry
and Men Die
girls sing the blues
and Women Bleed
"¡Muera la inteligencia!"
 

Everyone Has Their Own Image of Losing Altitude

Drinking a screwdriver from a mason jar

headphones sounding the currency of

dissolve dislove disown diversions

this is the real money that buys

"I don't give a fuck who knows"

or what words might be too harsh

we are coming home from the mystery

Sarah first

Travis next

& all of us

I can't help

but to think

each of us sitting in a quiet burn

each of us writing a truth of sorts

I close my eyes & know

we are not playing dumb here

we are talking at it

a caravan of poet family

or what I want to say is

we have a huge amount

of currency between us

we are $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

if that symbol was what made us

feel things beneath our clothes.

herstrionics

i'm tired of playing dumb to your face,
but the alternative is too embarrassing. 
i have a small currency
of social cues at my disposal. my beast arms
give HUGS did you know, i try to show you when you look
like you might want to be shown.
these levers i pull pump my butt-zone to the beat.
i am gaining experience to
metastasize stronger charms.

the roses are on time this year in lincoln, nebraska.
sometimes one smells the right way to mouth on
and retreat
sputtering inedible petals.  
murmur, "depression feels like you're
secretly evil, and you MUST hide it
from everyone."

on-time too is the restless diversion,
a repeated crest that comes crashing
down in fluttering shoreline ripples,
a thrumming djembe cadence of
go go go go go go go

so don't dislove me.
grant maybe a philanthropy of inquisitive
fingers on my fissures.
i'm just a glass girl in mirror land.

and look i can say the F word all night.
so you're going to have to be fucking patient.

CUTLASS II 2K13

1.sarah JUN 9
2.trav JUN 11
3.josh JUN 13
4.lisa JUN 15
5.alisa JUN 17
6.jessica JUN 19
7.justin JUN 21
8.cassie JUN 23
9.teal JUN 25
10.joel JUN 27
11.kelsey JUN 29
12.tom JUly 1
13.sperry JULY 3
14.mike JULY 5
15.jerod JULY 7
16.amanda JULY 9
17.molly JULY 11
18.becky JULY 13
19.rach JULY 15
20.jenny JULY 17
21.genevieve JULY 19
22.jeff JULY 21
23.paul JULY 23
24.drew JULY 25
25.jason JULY 27