if you try to hold a snake
it will wriggle out of your grip
if you move your hands over the snake
as it slides in a direction, it will go nowhere
while moving constantly near you always
trying to always slither away into some dark over there
5/23/13
sucker
do you love me or the memory of me
when you slap theatrically at mosquitoes when they bite your
neck or the small of your wrists
and ankles in the grass
Pitching a tent in the wilderness
underneath a wild switchbush full of thorny bramble and
hairs of stinging nettle or fiddlehead ferns that are edible but difficult to
know how to cook due to unorthodoxy
Oh my god: leave me alone
have a sandwich when you look at me
don’t tell me a story about sandwiches
don’t say anything to me that you have already said
keep it fresh, keep it fresh
the sandwich do not go to the beach
to the sand
strand, where the beachcombers go to look for gems and
shells
from shipwrecked mollusks (the dead, the dead)
eat me by the water in small gulps under the sodden logs and
planks full of lichen and barnacle
scratching at naked thighs like a clam on my naked thighs
gore
nose your supple proboscis into my ear and, ductile, make it
swim in the folds
the folds
of my brain which are sodden with sex
memory and sex
dreams of the beach and your sandwiches
and the last effigy of your self worth
that you sacrifice at my feet, Raymond Cline.
I don’t hate you because I refuse to hate everyone. I refuse
to hate anyone. It isn’t a special designation. Do not become a delusion of
grandeur, please. You possess no virtue. You possess no virtues.
Who are you, with no hair, to wear the comb I bought for you
with the money I got from the watch you bought the chain you sold your hair
for.
IT isn’t enough ever, more is required.
You aren’t what you claim
you aren’t what you declaim
you aren’t what you claim
to be or to possess, that is.
5/19/13
Detritus
I lied when I told you that I ate the bursslees sprouts
unheimlech
don't look away
look away
look away
When you were laying in bed I was burning tiny holes in the sheets with a lit cigarette
Hello darlings,
Where are your cavalcades and/or your legions of menfolk who, which know what is there and has happened to amongst things where the other where the other where the other
Indicate the ininfinite possibilities of my personhood until which point you have not got a thing a thing a thing a thing a thing a thing a thing
I am made of 20 peaches
your cast iron skillet is full of grease
Do not eat anything. Eat nothing. Don't eat a thing.
When you look at me, please make every effort to hate me.
Catch a whiff of my hair and hug me from behind.
Let me wear you like a coat.
Drop and give me eighty.
Realize your organ. It pumps blood throughout you.
"engaging in a fantasy" carrot cake
add thyme, fresh ginger, cinnamon
unheimlech
don't look away
look away
look away
When you were laying in bed I was burning tiny holes in the sheets with a lit cigarette
Hello darlings,
Where are your cavalcades and/or your legions of menfolk who, which know what is there and has happened to amongst things where the other where the other where the other
Indicate the ininfinite possibilities of my personhood until which point you have not got a thing a thing a thing a thing a thing a thing a thing
I am made of 20 peaches
your cast iron skillet is full of grease
Do not eat anything. Eat nothing. Don't eat a thing.
When you look at me, please make every effort to hate me.
Catch a whiff of my hair and hug me from behind.
Let me wear you like a coat.
Drop and give me eighty.
Realize your organ. It pumps blood throughout you.
"engaging in a fantasy" carrot cake
add thyme, fresh ginger, cinnamon
Mercy
mercy is the promise of power unexherted
an inexorability which is not exercised
and maintains supple ligaments in the gentle hand
you
fold your arms sagely and nod at pissants
who live at your discretion and fold
away at your whim
sip a cup of herbal tea and know you can destroy me
but you don't because you love me
but you don't because you're amused
but you don't
and you show me mercy
the mercy of a benevolent creator that could blot me out
with the swiftness of a thumb
as an ant on the pavement
but you don't
you are a lamb who goes carrying thumbscrews in your mouth
weaving blowtorches into your fleece
and crushing flowers under your cloven feet
an inexorability which is not exercised
and maintains supple ligaments in the gentle hand
you
fold your arms sagely and nod at pissants
who live at your discretion and fold
away at your whim
sip a cup of herbal tea and know you can destroy me
but you don't because you love me
but you don't because you're amused
but you don't
and you show me mercy
the mercy of a benevolent creator that could blot me out
with the swiftness of a thumb
as an ant on the pavement
but you don't
you are a lamb who goes carrying thumbscrews in your mouth
weaving blowtorches into your fleece
and crushing flowers under your cloven feet
4/25/13
your ephemera is smoke and ether
you are a ghastly thing which is likeekkekkekkekkdkkekd
when moving away from something please be sure to engage the things which are necessary for
suck the salty water from off of the inside of your left wrist. Imagine the reasons why that would be that there. Feel the callouses of your hands on the callouses of your hands. Do not look at anything which you are not supposed to look at. Go away from the edge of the world having never felt the rain of a stupid cloud.
Cup a thin coiled ribbon in your hands. There is no horse. There is no name. There is no such thing as a sudden movement. Your insignificance is insignificant. Your mantra is mute. Your adage, appendage, amputated. Remember the rocky center of your being you're being. You are a slab of granite that was broken into smithereens and implanted in the bodies of the ones who came before you. Did you pass into the stone yourself, do you pass into it, did you let it pass into you by accepting the burden of life, did you escape the organic drudgery of loam and limestone?
Where is your great pyramid. Where is your masculine prowess, and what hand do you hold it in? The drum major and the baton twirler.
Run away into the forest, where it is dark and cool.
you are a ghastly thing which is likeekkekkekkekkdkkekd
when moving away from something please be sure to engage the things which are necessary for
suck the salty water from off of the inside of your left wrist. Imagine the reasons why that would be that there. Feel the callouses of your hands on the callouses of your hands. Do not look at anything which you are not supposed to look at. Go away from the edge of the world having never felt the rain of a stupid cloud.
Cup a thin coiled ribbon in your hands. There is no horse. There is no name. There is no such thing as a sudden movement. Your insignificance is insignificant. Your mantra is mute. Your adage, appendage, amputated. Remember the rocky center of your being you're being. You are a slab of granite that was broken into smithereens and implanted in the bodies of the ones who came before you. Did you pass into the stone yourself, do you pass into it, did you let it pass into you by accepting the burden of life, did you escape the organic drudgery of loam and limestone?
Where is your great pyramid. Where is your masculine prowess, and what hand do you hold it in? The drum major and the baton twirler.
Run away into the forest, where it is dark and cool.
4/14/13
2nd person, again
You were encapsulated in a sphere of water the size of the Earth (or
maybe the Moon because it's difficult to measure on instinct) swimming
wherever. It was lit blue through and through, there was no edge or end
to it. You didn't think to drink or open your mouth or breathe because
home is all you know. Home is all anyone ever knows, don't feel too
badly about it please. Resilience is better than breath control.
When you woke up you were under a rocky outcropping and a scorpion was scurrying away guiltily. You wanted to console the poor beast but it didn't understand English. You would have named it Armando if you weren't so depressed about it.
You were stranded in the middle of the desert, looking for the occasional scrub or blade of grass that could indicate the transition to a steppe or a more moist environ. However, the mountain range to the west caused the desert to persist in its dryness. You knew this was the nature of things and you looked out to the landscape like a goddamned idiot as you walked.
There was no treasure when you came. No x-marks-the-spot. There was only the promise of treasure which you did not invest yourself in. The journey, not the destination. Your adages comfort you as you go for the sake of having gone. Not for the sake of going. There is a difference.
There was no oasis, you started with a canteen for four days and ran out on day six. The camel did not die, it just played possum until you decided to leave it alone and continue on foot alone. You wish the camel would have liked you better. You would have named it Armando if you weren't so depressed about it.
Your goals were always uncertain. The landscape was always barren and dry. Symmetry.
In a flash, the clouds gathered and dumped a quantity of rain on the vast featurelessness of the desert. Little green stems poked up from the sand. Each untwisted a blue or white flower, which turned itself away from the harsh sun. Soon, a field of flowers was rocking gently in the breeze. A lungfish flopped in the water.
When you woke up from this second dream, the sand fort you made for yourself had blown away. So you got up and walked in the direction you thought you were supposed to. After a while you stopped and, noticing the swirl of the dunes in the wind, realized that the desert was featureless and ever changing in its featurelessness. The sand at the top of the dune was blowing away in a golden, horizontal plume. You saw the grains travevling away from you and thought to go open your mouth and catch them all in it, swallowing enough to make your own dune. For us. You would have named them armando if you weren't so depressed about it.
I went away too. I don't know if you lived or died.
When you woke up you were under a rocky outcropping and a scorpion was scurrying away guiltily. You wanted to console the poor beast but it didn't understand English. You would have named it Armando if you weren't so depressed about it.
You were stranded in the middle of the desert, looking for the occasional scrub or blade of grass that could indicate the transition to a steppe or a more moist environ. However, the mountain range to the west caused the desert to persist in its dryness. You knew this was the nature of things and you looked out to the landscape like a goddamned idiot as you walked.
There was no treasure when you came. No x-marks-the-spot. There was only the promise of treasure which you did not invest yourself in. The journey, not the destination. Your adages comfort you as you go for the sake of having gone. Not for the sake of going. There is a difference.
There was no oasis, you started with a canteen for four days and ran out on day six. The camel did not die, it just played possum until you decided to leave it alone and continue on foot alone. You wish the camel would have liked you better. You would have named it Armando if you weren't so depressed about it.
Your goals were always uncertain. The landscape was always barren and dry. Symmetry.
In a flash, the clouds gathered and dumped a quantity of rain on the vast featurelessness of the desert. Little green stems poked up from the sand. Each untwisted a blue or white flower, which turned itself away from the harsh sun. Soon, a field of flowers was rocking gently in the breeze. A lungfish flopped in the water.
When you woke up from this second dream, the sand fort you made for yourself had blown away. So you got up and walked in the direction you thought you were supposed to. After a while you stopped and, noticing the swirl of the dunes in the wind, realized that the desert was featureless and ever changing in its featurelessness. The sand at the top of the dune was blowing away in a golden, horizontal plume. You saw the grains travevling away from you and thought to go open your mouth and catch them all in it, swallowing enough to make your own dune. For us. You would have named them armando if you weren't so depressed about it.
I went away too. I don't know if you lived or died.
4/9/13
free hands
when I watch you
when you open
I watch you open
the door when I watch
your hands draw it open
the door as I watch you
and
you greet me there when
you open the door and I
watch you greet me
I watch you greet the open
door with a hand with me watching
your hands brush the handle
you open
hello hello hello hello
and
you open the door and you open
your hands and take my bag
and you greet me at the open
door with two free hands
for me.
when you open
I watch you open
the door when I watch
your hands draw it open
the door as I watch you
and
you greet me there when
you open the door and I
watch you greet me
I watch you greet the open
door with a hand with me watching
your hands brush the handle
you open
hello hello hello hello
and
you open the door and you open
your hands and take my bag
and you greet me at the open
door with two free hands
for me.
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