ANSWER

MATH IS MORE FASHIONABLE THAN FATIGUE

COLIN FARRELL IS MORE FASHIONABLE THAN FATIGUE

THE SCIENCE FICTION HELL INSIDE OUR MINDS IS MORE FASHIONABLE THAN FATIGUE

THE WAY ICE CUBE SAYS "THE SCENE OF THE SLAUGHTER" IS MORE FASHIONABLE THAN FATIGUE

ESSENTIALLY

EVERYTHING CRUNCHING

IS MORE

IT'S LIKE KNOWING

THE BUTTERFLIES

WON'T STOP

THE KNOTS

IN YR STOMACH

IT'S LIKE

THE FLAMING MOOSE

IN THE MOVIE KNOWING

IS MORE FASHIONABLE

THAN FATIGUE
 


i'm abt to be
            a potato
                        in the sink

i'm getting slimy
            when i'm getting rubbed on
                        with water hands

i don't mind the sensation
            of being chopped & mashed
                        because it's a sensation
                                    for me to feel

i really want
            a churro
                        & a smile

this is an old
            millenium

the hills
            are melting
                        under my feet

the hills
            are alive

we are alive
            & wearing each other
                        like coats we love to look at

a millennium's give ways

In the trailer, Alexander just cuts the knot, gives a speech or two, ignites tar. And by dilation, something loads, sets its’ cast. We say knot for how many ills each day--- looking back---to an old country road where we were caught. A half-dozen police, those stickered reds and blues. Alexandra in my shirt. And my explanation for running, quite simply: “we weren’t even running from you." So about the movie, I imagine the hero is scolded as a boy for dry-firing his bow. It’s like: knowing the lines won’t stop the butterflies won’t stop the knots (this speech already solved). Over the hill, another, unsmoothable. The complaint’s immemorially cast. As this, a new millennium, what’s more fashionable than fatigue?

I don't know. I think I believe in rain.

Believe in rain's work.
Rain cut a rail
straight through all your non-spacey oceans
faster than anyone's father.

Time is a device
to keep things moving.
A heart thump quickens
the firm grip of a lover.

This mountain top device.
This mountain top. That mountain top.
No mountain top.

Carry a new branch.
Feel heavy from all the cords,
the fire wood at its belt.

Sing chords of praises to a distracted god.
I didn't carve this mold,
my grandfather did. I didn't plant that tree,
his grandfather did. I didn't fence that plot of land,
his grandfather did. I'm just doing the best
with what I'm glad I've got.

The least you could do is drool for me a little. Get
your galoshes on. Get
your diving cap
and scarf
and goggles on.

I'm going splashing.

I'm going canyoning. I'm going canyoning. I'm canyoning every corner of this island, until we both drown in our borders.

After all,
without some god,
all that's left
is drowning.

1 Mile North

Then everything wasn't. Your disappointment delayed launch countdown. The au pair's financial security was in serious jeopardy. The blade you bent back into shape halved its potential for tilling. That soil is only one way to break apart the ground. Fixing shit through others means theft. I need consists of nothing and money and space/time and nothing. How does it mean? Living on the Oregon trail is the same as living in the middle of the Atlantic ocean because they are both dead. Being bit by a pit bull is even less meaningful if the dog is rabid. Let it lie. Don't suck its poison. Now I'm hanging onto less than the last poem. One poem burgles capacity. This poem. That poem. No poem. I'm only trying to tell you I love you in a way that persuades that last branch to bloom again. If you would let me hover over your chest I would drop each fingertip into the mountain top's blown mountain top tip by tip by inch by my own hand. Its hole like the one in none. Poor poem. Believe in rain's work. Or don't. Pain renders your faith irrelevant.

To Nude Drifting

I don't really understand it except
I liked that one line about crescents
I pictured the dough boy, the moon, and the white spots at the base of my toe nails

The earth is just a dump
for some other universe's broken things
and they have an endless supply of things

Healing
is saying screw you
to a distracted god
who thought jell-o molds, cookie cutters, and angel food cake pans
could ever create happy, drooling people

Rain doesn't work that way.

Toward New Drafting

I dreamt a revision

of the work but lengthy still

away from dreams. Without smoke

to breathe through the cloud cover, drooling

down the sky, the rain approaches

a determination of crescents, indentations

left in the palm from tense fists

from holding it in.  The flatulence of an over articulation

the release of externalities

what is not usable, what is not valuable

to the subject for which a template is lacking.

I cannot draft a report

without a mold to start from.

FORCING YR GIRLFRIEND TO LISTEN TO THE REDHOTCHILIPEPPERS

heyo
yr huffing the mess of my leaky arms
i don't hear the ringinging
from your anus anus anus
i don't heroin well or i guess i just rubber band
& snap   in front of yr face
until these dreams stop making you barf
out of any hole
heyo
i once believed things about my father
or giants & money && the balls of god
drooling through cloud cover
the stink of gas
i haven't been high in over twenty-four hours
yr fly machine pumps nos into my veins
like i get excited by an open mouth
like i think about things before they happen
like i would always exist in some way or another
& yr right
say there is a pattern
say i am always away from my IRL dreams
duck from puffs of flatulence
of my lactose intollerant mother
of my diabetic father
of my own decaying boyness
it is all a pass
can you smell it
i am not sure if yr aware
of how short i will linger
the warmth a body leaves on a mattress
press yr face against glass
watch fog come and go
heyo