headache 2days

the earthquake got worse
it built
til it burst
and bled out
on to the floor
it was war

drained complaint
I can’t brain
I can’t even

for my 14 dead followers, a good bye poem

I am
standing in line
with a man to confer
the clouds are black
and the sky is cheap wine
she is a shirt with rolled sleeves,
sleek shoulders
I am a dress suit buttoned
tweed and tight and
knot right

there are cucumbers in windows
me, I need to stay cool
the sweat
on their brow is a
temptation to flight but
I am here without my might

my life
is asking too many questions
to which the answers are found
in a mud of a mother

the bailiff in drab shoes
in the corner
recused is god
nobody cares and
everybody stares

and all the stars are diamonds dying
in a right night in a bad light

anti poem for ben lerner

I have anti poems with pencils
in their hands like lightsabers
or kites

there’s no fellowship or soft talk
on telephones to cock about wild
turkeys in marfa

only lonely ogahetra hiding his identity
in waste baskets not caskets
it’s telling

one poem two poems in circles dueling
or pissing pretending rain on cracked
up heads of mirrored poets

yes it’s not godwins mercurial bus
or judas becoming god or anything
pretty this poem

but the film is a sad divorce

saddened bored man in headphones
remembering and forgetting
at playlists

he’s an alligator and we’ll see him later
maybe in fishnets and sorrow
it’s not my life

blue jeanes with pretty girls
in cars in cemeteries on grass crass
shoelaced morals and hands on pearls
with hands on pearls

in retrospect
the sky was soupy and heavy and
moving like stars do in star maps in
mighty minds of seaward captains
chasing princess doras in captains
cabin daydreams
puffin a pipe
and telling time

or the girl with tennis ball persuasion
shocking my activation into
a pitfall poet who knows it
but not enough to show it
who’ll hibernate through life long
lasting sadness
and word madness til it’s too late

til it’s a just playlist remembrance
of dull chords and materials more
meaningful and colored than a poor
man could give to you ever and ever


it were an act
rocky walking toward the camera
into punches
and we bought it

valley mart


I dunno
a hidden part of my senate
wants so badly to
blow a hole out the back
of our only head
to see what happens next
blood dreams obscenely seen
rhino army adventurer
dragons and jon snow
and a beholden coughing caufield
crashing through the rye
with lies, with lies
a cornucopia of stupidity
laughing at me as I
lie deadeye dickish awaiting
a reformation committee conversation
of dumptyesque obligation
don’t want that

I think therefore I deconstruct

breaking breads and my mind
at tables with chairs
bending spoons at the same time
I think about bending you

could I
see myself with you
without winter clothes
under stars and
and find the poetry
of that moment in your kiss
and on your breasts


always september
leaves me thirsty
a salt peter, up sides down

poetry dot org

baby I remember
when they flushed that great toilet
internet poets turds
and I was an absurd bird
polluter; polluters with rooters

who’s voice was hard,
scarred and did the barring
bards in shards
I was an anti poet, from first attempt

nose hits in a delta 88

all about doing
the tony garza

turns out it’s all
having poured out
on pages on books
like a vomited pizza

hey man