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


a slow pour from an opaque jar
with unbreakable surface immeasureable volume unending flow
yet evaporating
filled emptied refilled
from no source for no reason by no one
a viscous joy

unheld, the vessel tilts away
snapping slowly silently the stream of honey


the stone of the statue is peeling away
under the boredom of time’s soft trot.
the here of where is more a question
yet unasked, more a when than an answer

our families call this world a forest
but i see four corners and an exit sign.
rotting in the open mirror, i am convinced
of my beauty as a function of its decay

wherefore art thou idiot romeo, come
bring useless aid of your body and your love.
these banal delights have banal ends
let us die here and now not where or when

flee toward the flickering sign, leap
thru exit's threshold into thine granite eternity
of an affordable memorial statue, Made in USA
proclaiming, here rests (face and name eroded)



did you see that
that man staring at me
what's his problem
some people. can't mind their own

do you think that
he saw something
(maybe anything?
where there's nothing)
what's he trying to prove
who's he think he is
(or isn't or i am) anyhow

(i live in a box
with a bunch of maggots
feeding on the filth
of a rotting bone)

they push and they stare
and they don't know a damn thing
(about the box or the filth or the bone)


first run's over.
i'm pennies now
price can't be printed
or figured out

my selfhood is the only cost
on the line (not in the bill)

externalized by God's kind Hand
unpaid with His good Will


He makes many
i'm less than few
my soul is forfeit
when overdue



is a hook
to hang iron dread on
or pull thread unwoven
is a window for staring through blank
or keeping dull warmth in
is a lie against time's dispassion,
the sparkle of the bright illusion.
so is, so isn't:
if i can -
when i do -
then i will be -
: my empty claims to power


Wanna get an ocean of pleasure?
My goal is to make you end
Don't forget me