i was stillborn in spring
with wet feathers and a broken face
wrecked upon the nest in my porcelain grave.
my mother sang her horror
none listened.
none can say what her wild gray eyes beheld
it was not me for i was not.
my brothers screamed of hunger
and heeding, she shot away


Endow me with your knowledge
The seed of your fruit
From the tree of your life
So that I might learn
To unlearn it


One moment, talking, laughing
Another, lost in a poison fog
Of course death awaits
Of course of course yes
But in the meantime?

In the meantime?
And why not
Null, all -
    Deathly illusion

A scrap among runts
(The strong make peace)
A tantrum, to last, here.



                i dunno
                       what he’s
                          but he’s wrong
                     i hope   he chokes
                     ugly and cheap
                  who talks
                     like that anyway
                     and her
                     stupid trifles
           i'm     not what            they say
shaking inside       i’m going home    earth’s peace, rusted
still outside          fuck            is a crooked crown
a smooth steel shell   this      fought against
atomic heart beating      look      yet gained
aching to burst              light    yet worn



Strangely and suddenly to John, they plunged in to the stream of conversation, cold and rushing and out of control but not--he admitted so as not to drown in the initial panic--actually terrifying; pleasant, foreignly so, and familiarly so; but still, how did we get here and where are we going.

Jane offered a smile, beautiful and priceless and unpaid for, and John accepted, feigning implicit acknowledgement that it was a gift due, so as not to give away the fact that he failed to fully understand the custom or occasion, replying "Yeah, I've been." (To Miami, it was; that was the subject, or was becoming, blooming like a fire) Stall, recollect, prepare, advance. "Why, you going?" Such rote gratitude.

It began, so it continued, throwing the ball back and forth in the game, the grenade back and forth across the field. Landing in John's hands now, then quickly out, and his wild gleeful horror subsiding a little as Jane held it fearlessly with its blazing fuse, her eyes brightened by the danger, a dazzling kamikaze, and next back to John, all scorched thumbs and fumbling. It's almost out, It's going out, he thought, he reacted, as he played the wild sport, in disbelief of the joy he felt and the skill he exercised, while aching to quit it all lest somebody win or lose. So deciding, John issued inwardly an order as a plea: Stop, and won't that be nice for us, and isn't that by itself enough. "That sounds fun," he smiled, but Jane saw the signal.


a man is an eager dog
has nothing, but giving
drops a carcass at my feet
chases down a living

a living is an eager dog
is nothing, unforgiving
drops a carcass at my feet
wanting not, unwilling

man's will is an eager dog
flea-bitten, outwitting
makes a carcass out of me
loosed wild, free, and killing

a killing is an eager dog
spent yet unremitting
i drop, a carcass at your feet
a man? a dog. submitting


etc + taiwan

we’re full up and ravenous
delighted and vomitous
in fistfuls, in eyefuls
a hot purging cycle
more upon more
upon more upon more
upon more upon more upon
more upon more
up, on, whore
up, on, body
this wreck
some less
some left
for snacks
for shit
i’m lovin’ it


i want to record (somew)here that i went to taiwan and had a wonderful time. explaining why is hard, so i will just say that my favorite day of the trip was the second to last when
the wind was light
the temple empty
the mountain steep
my troubles petty.
i wouldn’t say
i woke from dreaming
but rather dreamt
a woken feeling