Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Quiz Answers

All lines are taken, in order, from one student's reading quiz responses.

not smart because the class they were in.
like not talking on the street
Black men date with white girl
white people don't respect on black people, like
when they on the line and white people skip
on line
talk about the braid
talk about the Harlem that white people live here too
If the black people be too good,
white people will stand on top of them

I feel it is very effective because he talk
about the dailey situation in life and I
saw those kinds of happen sometime
All three narrators are come from black culture.

Spanish Film/ película española

que si el queso y el jamon se quieren entre si, a veces es posible que el jamon quiera jamon, el queso queso, jamon jamon. Todos los quesos al queso, y el jamon, al jamon.

Valga la redundancia

Todos se quieren en queso, entre quesos se quieren, los estafadores quesaron, que rico quesaron con la familia un queso rico, rico será; un queso humilde, humilde será.

Hola todos! ¿Tienen hora? Un saludo a las mujeres, mujeres saludadas, saludable como me gusta, me gusta salud, salud es gustable, una estable mujer.

¿Has querido el queso? ¿El queso te quiere o te sientes como si el queso no te cayera bien? ¿Como si no te amara?

¿Cómo tu te estás sentando al no ser amado por un ser queso? Debes bailar con él.

Me da amargura. Me da vergüenza. Me da pena. Me da acidez. Me da alergia. Me da algo. Me da no se que, queso avergonzado. Me da cosa. Me da chicha, chicha me dijiste. Me da gastritis. Me da cólera. Me dio de todo. Todo me da de todo.

Monday, December 22, 2008

The Birth of the Spoon

In Pembroke Pines, a giant spoon welcomes visitors entering the town. The spoon is welcoming, and we welcome how the town has implemented use of the not-so-apparent necessity to illustrate true hospitality. Since the spoon’s enormous metallic appearance, radio in Pembroke Pines is looking at twice as many listeners.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Anthology of Hell

I’m sick of the ghost anthology it makes my life hell
When I google myself and find only things I don’t write

Because the ghost is taking up space, gasps Who wrote this?
Place where our dead poems see viewers puke for first time!

I will tell you when I was a child
I was the emperor of nudity

But I am without nudity because I’m in that anthology
Where all the rich poon hangs out

No one wants to be nude and vulnerable
In a room filled with the richest poon.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Guns Commit Murders

Rather easily people don’t kill suns
It's unspoken rules about people sun relations
Responsible for the majority of our stuffing
They just burn you and take no notice
We are on the cusp of a no-accountability label war
And we line up for the concert with expectorant
THERE are a million different faces THERE
We’re taking off clothing and putting ourselves in
Easy to slip on product wear
Along with my mothereffing effervescent wafers
We are half-expecting to address planetary indifference
Today, and what comes close
To tomorrow’s cooking
Sore in the mouth, people’s asses
Suns killer guns commit
These people’s names to memory rather easily
You’d learn to write better
You’d be less distracted Hobbits, armed
And not having paid full admission
And wanting THERE to be different faces THERE.
I don’t have any earthly concept of how guns function
EXCEPTION! You can gets others to do what you want
Because you’re a supervisor and I’m a motherfucker.
Isolation one of the pros of inequality in the world.

Monday, December 15, 2008

My face says power

Realigning your direction
A moment of introspection
This will lead you to act.
You will feel the center of power
This risk pulls you into temptation mode
Specialized shortcuts are meant to assist you
And looking on the bright side the long cuts
You will get a few openings, but sauce belongs on the thicker
Reasons to collaborate are to further your power drive.
I have reasons to pull over your delinquent margarine
Squeeze bottle master, you have owned power congrats!

Now feel the strength in my assuming grip
See the reflected beauty off the promontory nose
The chin Kelsey Grammar envies
Power is hidden in each spectacle my face induces
Distraction is the key to laden thinkpads
My face controls are best kept with shortcuts.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Poetic Criticism

The problem with critical
writing is the telling of it
and the gospel it induces

new meaninglessness fight

What do you think it is about you
That angers you about small things?

The small things are really meaningless
But sometimes the small adds up

Then one big meaningless thing is made
And to fight that big meaningless

You have to gather your strength
Into a big meaningless thing fighter

And this fight is won somewhat skillfully
But no one will offer you credit

Because we, as occupiers of this meaningless area
Are seen as fully equipped with dealing

Out and in all the meaningless big thing fights
That we’re dealt and we don’t die later.

When we eventually die, it’s often
A result not of the meaningless big things

But of the minute flaws we overlook
We take the true killers for granted

And they are everywhere while we are fighting meaningless
Small lumped into big events and things

Friday, December 12, 2008

Flarf (again!)

Response to this:

Flarf is a tendency, and urge. Just as the 'uncreative' turns sublime or unhinges to point to something different (or to itself), the overworking flarf seeks leans toward a particularly different entrophy -- though still point to itself -- where words flame themselves, no longer an honored "recipient" of a chatroom screed (just like "no longer an issue of the NY Sunday Times). Conceptual writing follows the trend in the opposite direction. The intent is the same: get something to say something different (whether by contextually placing the entire work within a different frame, like DAY, or by taking results from ANY search and putting them into something like THE ANGER SCALE...

So, there is no winter.

In 100 years, flarf will be recontextualizing "seminal flarf texts" to mean something insulting and "not o.k." again, it will win and lose "fans," (the sport analogies born of the above-linked post are odd and unsettling) and we'll be reading L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E at political rallies. CRINGE!

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Commonly Confused Words

Taken from RULES OF THUMB (Silverman, Hughes, Wienbroer), page 3).

Most people do not accept criticism gracefully.
Everybody except the piano player stopped playing.
Even nonprescription drugs can affect us in significant ways.
Scientists have studied the effects of aspirin on heart disease.
Frank Gehry chooses pliable materials for his architecture.
Napoleon chose officers based on their ability rather than on their family connections.
His conscience was clear.

Found Poem

Note: Taken, in order, from all sample sentences used to illustrate verb agreement rules, page 53, RULES OF THUMB (Silverman, Hughes, and Wienbroer, 2008).

The bird and the bee make music together.
My great aunt and my grandfather argue incessantly.
The drummer, not the other musicians, sets the rhythm.
Two causes for the collapse of their business were
employee apathy and management dishonesty.
One of the guests was a sleepwalker.
Each of us owns a Wurlitzer jukebox.
The use of legal drugs has escalated.
There was one reason for the cover-up.
There were three reasons for the cover-up.
Everyone except the twins was laughing.
Somebody always overheats the copying machine.
My family does not eat crowder peas.
In some states the jury elects the foreman.
A thousand dollars is a lot of money to carry around.
Dating two people is tricky.

Saturday, December 06, 2008

I'm not legit in my own neighborhood

It’s difficult to describe

But I’m a quarter part of the solution.

You see, I voted for the responsible gimme

I was tired of waking up to pounding rock

Even my headache seemed to be saying,

“Go out and vote to no longer have rock”

Rock is formidable but wieldy and timeless

We put off the rock by giving it negative reviews

Like the dye job Frampton is alive in that movie

Where we’re all told to vote for rock because the rock channels sponsors the vote

I would be alive if I voted

I used to enjoy that rock channel

But now they are saying if I don’t vote, silly songs will divide and conquer

Now the channel plays silly songs with no value

And we have lost the ability to familiarize

Value to me is playdough you can give to children to eat

But at least most kids are pondering voting seriously

It makes me want to strangle myself slowly with dull objects

Does anyone in my neighborhood have dull objects or a strangulation

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

A Border Looks Like Making Love

Is available here....

Support The Greying Ghost, their work is excellent and of most supreme quality.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Planet Chat

To my brother, Patrick

well, yes. the planet and naming it "ours" idea is an idea
like whoever gets there first
it becomes there.
the grammar in that is terrible.
like columbus, arriving
and calling this place "new york"
thus making it new york

even though it's clearly not new york, but some place
to someone else. “and how we have named planets
that are billions of light years away from us
even though we will probably never reach them”
not even knowing what are planets are made of
or what kind of music they like there.
but I was also thinking about this idea as an educator...
people learn the english that I teach them. Interesting!
so if I decide to describe something a certain way, they're going to believe that.
it's a bit scary, when you think about it.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Residence in the Treehut

What’s happening to the crème filing: Fact that parting stands and sits. So quickly machinations of funerals. Departure. A loss for sight. Underground commuter rail. Eek out. Moment’s chocolate. Translucence bails. Broken into a momentous rhumba. Returns to the juicer. Counts more other fingers. The decision of storms, baguettes and newspapers of morning flights in the new bright. Terminal. It’s the second you, defibrillatorless. A sword swallower with life. And wants to fight.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

A terrible attempt at Children's Writing

Ted $$$ had a job a railroad submarine
She sprayed the leather twice
And the Metal…kleen
Aye, spleen? Can’t be seen.
Doctors’ find envy and paint it green?
When voting, the spleen of Ted resembles submarine

We once all voted green
Elephant Ted blends with garden furnishings
Camouflaged, wanting a degree in economics
But is mildly Chthonic
And has a trunk up on it

But practice a u-turn with the car –
U? Are we buckled? Yes we are –
Crashes and begets his elbow scar:
How’d my arm bend that way? No way
“Impossibilitay!” Ted sprays
Gatorade on the tusk blade,
I’m ½ Maylay
Part English, part protectionism inlay.

The army wants Ted
But Ted treads gratefully, now sed,
What’s sed, I’m dead…not tired, but well bred
If only I found a rhyme for exit strategy.
Slatternly? Oh drat Phyllis Schlafly?

Are you getting ready to try Communlisp?
This clisp, Clasp, don’t budge,
Sit still, cowering over fruit berry remix you cannot resist?
I’m the second boy grip for never been kist.
Sunkissed! You can’t be that dissed!
You miss it? No, class dismissed.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

In Need of Expansion

Sometimes the Bunny is stressed. Yes, sometimes it is stress that gets the bunny before the vet. When the vet gets the bunny, s/he pets the bunny to calm the bunny. At a remove the bunny appears selfless, Lincolnesque. The bunny then does what we call "relinquishing," whereby it moves toward a corner and gives us treats. Though this behavior is seen as improvement, it should not be encouraged in vain. In order to not fall pretty urgently in awe/love/aww cuteness with such a wayward, twee creature, we must allow the vet to pet the bunny OUT of the corner. This can be disconcerting, as I'm sure you can imagine. The bunny will not, in its initial stages, like this. Nor will there be bristling enough to challenge notions held previously pertaining to how bunnies defend. The dog wouldn't either. Think about it.
Hence, sometimes the bunny is stressed, and rightfully so. Urine kits, or "Strips" as they are known in more decorative circles, display and eyeful to anyone wishing their bunny not relinquish. Best of luck in your urine kit search.

Friday, November 14, 2008

Crazy (racist) fashionistas

{Editors note: To The man who obviously doesn't know much at all....Stop emailing me backchannel with your weird racist screeds.]

To wit:

The Sartorialist is photographing what he likes white this white that. Apparently he likes white tall skinny skeleton women and when it comes down to men he is more diverse (white, cream, off-white, eggshell white, creamout white, harlequin white, white nanny, WHIATE!). For me that is all legitimized (white) because it is his blog and indeed “if you do not like it, leave it.” –George Bush

Then you start ranting on about non-white, white that. SO I took a look at your profile and indeed you are from the US of A as I thought (white). My (white) God, you people are so fuckin overwhite sensitive and politically correct it makes me sick in my whiteness. It makes me even realize (British spelling, you white ignoramus US of A’er) I do not have to argue with you anymore, because I’m white and you’re white and because you will never understand my point of view.

He is not a white pioneer because he doesn’t kill anyone with white influenza and he stands in his own right not to choose for that. You should become the pioneer and that particular area - speaking about gap in the market -.

Here's the work of this genius, over at some blog about my plane's peanuts have bigger balls than your plane's peanuts

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Pontiac, Mo

To much obscenity is around today

Put out, airing a bigger set of lips

To prepare for those bad words

They have targets for their cursing, the usual

Market crisis, palimony, orthodontic doubt

Where victory is draining my gums

Because I can't find a decent dental plan

And I blame the young.

And venture into their seats.

Young girls have been treating their period vulgar.

A loss of a sacred sacrificial distinction,

Distance themselves

Their mouths actually ask for detergent. Or find replacements. Personally,

Forget girls, I blame the young of all shapes and sizes, who’d puff

Their chests into a rubber human to break high scores

Because you’ll need power before power needs you.

Multiple throwing arms full and I can toss more barrels

Aggression into meaningful ramifications

Identified as owl, ox, donkey and sheep, chemically. It’s worth

Every cent to not negotiate. I won’t wear that cap. It’s a “migrate or get loaded” cap

Because we feel limp on video, and alcohol on video is pretzel.

I feel I echo the young who to blame American families for ass plunged

And fatal ass spelunking. That familiar, familial, personal gossip of blame

I target the young. I’m very consistently boning this doctor frequency

I have a picture of Dakota and it’s worthwhile.

I have a picture of tommy gun. It’s worthwhile.

I have a picture of the Manhattan Experiment and it’s worthwhile.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

A short story I might be working on?

Running shouldn’t be made part of a daily routine due to weather. Like, just you get up with a leaky faucet. Chipper children. The boat launch. A ragged dog ignores the regulation of traffic because breakfast is most important, today. Spent all night barking, sore mouth doesn’t improve in seven days. The doctor calls it brackish.

Ragged again, sunlight grapple a niche in all tangled fabric. I’m warming. Grab my rod and reel, approaching the rail. Fish biting nice in numbers. Little fishy mouths mute for little music bits. Cultures of the past considered this form of purity to allow the fish to address small amounts of dirty humans to cure diseases in fish populations. Consider it a blessing removing your dry skin cells. The bed for dander.

Water of such an ending. Retaking the human, that recollection. Squids mirror, Italian take out. Kung pow eyes up from inside white boxes mixed in with the froth on spin.

Sunday, November 09, 2008

Impasse Updated

Part of where my questioning has really worked is the last area for questions, in the life of each pair of pants I own.

Part of where my questioning has concerned itself has been with how to cut cheese.

Stan Apps talks fitfully about sarcasm and irony, sincerity and subtlety, as well as the duplicitous nature of being subtle.

Then I wanted to rewrite this poem I've been working on called "Humiliatingly Close Prose":

How the turtle will relieve your pain.

Anyone who gives this more than one star watches movies like Castaway.

You need to hold danger to see danger in long-term pain.

What smells like uncomfortable is truthfully pain.

My dream: Shit your tonsils. Who can hurt more?

I’m dropping the pain. Don’t you feel a tiny bit sorry for moldy voldy?

What you feel is fucking pain.

Where I can escape and thrill in the chase like Hugo's dead dog, Tiny URL.
The pain so tiny I have treat pain in tiny patients video.

Controlled sugar suckling behind it. And go far away out of pain’s way, Spock.

A mother, two kids, six reasons to leave, and a ticket to heaven.

If heaven is a rocking chair loaded with explosions

Sprawling pain has made a bed in a forest from far away.

Since this painful garbage has parked in our lozenge, we spoil.

There isn’t a way to speak about beach reclamation without paining the turtles.

I wanted to be entertainment, not to be painfully propaganda.

Good fortune is ruined by reliable weekly pickup taking pain-causing agents far away:

Where they can escape with diverse funds by grasping your country’s flaws and real pain

Something bad in your head, like my hands have known fear so, later.

Friday, November 07, 2008

Impasse and Musings

I feel like I've hit a wall with my writing.

I feel like I'm repeating myself in my work.

I feel like I'm too impatient. Impatient for what?!

Is there anything the matter with any of this?

I feel that in the wake of recent events, writing's dynamic has changed for me, even the way I see words on the page and the funny things those words do to me.

Just read David Markson's, SPRINGER'S PROGRESS.

Here's a copy of what I said to the box at Goodreads:

Amazing. Sticky: it'll leave you thinking in glottal snippets, and laughing through betxits and twists, tantrums of Springer. You might ask, "how many ways can Markson say something..." Answer? Rubs it out: legion.

This book affects.

Make no mistake. Humbled I am in the face of this quivering magnificence.

What do you do when you feel humbled by everything you read?


Wednesday, November 05, 2008


Also, [the article] just kind of throws all the people going out and having fun into one big boat of going out and having fun people, many of whom when they aren't going out and having fun are working so that others can go out and have fun, too.

consolation station

I want to say dead heart
Is it beatingless heart?
English plz?
Cold throat. Monuments
Dude I remember that sight
Banana logo
Minnesota has grown a beating heart in a jar
The viewpoint rotates
Awash in riches and gas
Geek baby for free
The doctor burst with his findings
Holy frak! Take proper actions
When a person needs consoling

Monday, November 03, 2008


As much wants
The bull to
Ground every
Last matador
Gut doughy face worms
Pull pork race card detaches
Whatever pigmented samurai;
Dipping into the line as if
String binds

Friday, October 31, 2008

Humiliatingly Close

Let’s begin by grasping your country. You need to hold danger to see danger in long-term pain reduction and suffering, becoming what smells like uncomfortable. An avenue to follow properly elects the strongest. My dream: Shit your tonsils. Who can hurt more?

I’m dropping the pain on you. The pain quotidien slams from far away. Where I can escape and thrill in the chase like Hugo's dead dog. The pain so big I have to leave to punch a hole in this idea for what controls behind it. And go far away out of pain’s way.

Since this painful garbagetruck has parked in our lozenge. There isn’t a way to speak without pain. Good fortune is unlikely with reliable weekly pickup taking pain-causing agents far away: Where they can escape with my diverse funds by grasping your country’s flaws and showing up real pain something bad, like my hands have known fear so, later.

Sunday, October 26, 2008


-Thanks to JP for suggesting I blog about this.

Overtranslation is an extension of the literal in a translator’s target language that influences or determines reading of and translation choices made in relation to the source language. Overtranslation isn’t a literal translation because it serves as a bridge might; readers understand that a translator is present, and that a sense of humor exists between two texts that is evidence of a process – not a mechanical transfer — and that this process is anything but automatic: There are human hands involved.

Overtranslation is so named because it seeks to fill a gap between meta-translation and trot versions of a text. The translation is sometimes literal because the literalness of the translation points to a living and breathing translator – a person who made a choice with each word rather than ignorant consultation of reference books – and this difference gives (or gives away) identity to the translator. Rather than just negating the existence of a person occupying the office of copying into another language, overtranslation reveals the translator’s native language to the reader by what type of literal choices are made. The reader is also left with a package of questions, the least of which has anything to do with the primacy, or authority, of the accuracy of the text. What’s more, in some cases overtranslation might opt for the opposite of the more accurate word in order to allude to something else (see below).

The only example that I'm going to write about now (see next paragraph) would be taking the phrase: “No te voy a dejar, nunca.” Translated this might read, “I won’t leave you, ever.” (more emphasis) Or “I won’t ever leave you.” (less emphasis). But it very well could read “I won’t ever quit you.” Or “I’m not going to quit you, ever.” The statement is the same even if the exact wording has been changed. Overtranslation denies the existence of one text/one idea/mot juste that we must adhere to when choosing which words to use. In the above case, an overtranslation might risk alluding to Brokeback Mountain. Or, if that’s the point, the translator might rather prefer to make this allusion. So, overtranslation is a choice that reveals certain personal (sometimes historical) and referential behaviors of the translator and refutes the idea that there is one text, one translation.

[A recent example of overtranslation: I'm currently reading Horacio Castellanos Moya's book, EL ARMA EN EL HOMBRE. Translated this would read something like "Arms and the man" or "Arms in/and Man." or aha! "The Weapon in Man." (This last is my preferred choice for a translation.) But since I can't help noticing el arma/alarma, I would overtranslate this title (were I given the chance) as "Man All Arms." Cheesy yes, indeed, but just another little something I love about connecting the translation with the source material. So sue me.]

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

What are the characteristics of a good neighbor? Use reasons and examples to support your response.

Most people would see no reason to argue that a good neighbor is many characteristics in harmony. Two of those which are vital to living successfully with others in a relationship include respect and understanding. There are really several reasons why respect and understanding are integral to any neighborly relationship; I plan on listing them.

Respect is a quality we all want and few receive. At times there are shortages and comedians without respect yell that they get none of it. Rockets shoot from their eyes. We are forced to respect them with quality weapons. After respect is hard-fought receipt, similar to saving a large sum of money to buy your favorite dress and finally realizing that you've owned that dress all along, tucked into dark corners of your living situation. Now new objects are appearing that you spend your money on. So respect emerges from the idea that keeping this money will bring a fortune you can manage in the future. Then your worry will be less and you will be worry-free. A respectful good neighbor will not invade your quiet unwontedly. She will knock on your door in a decent outfit, careful not to disturb the music you play. She will also not make harsh demands or ask too much when she runs out of ingredients, and will gladly sacrifice watching your pet if you decide that traveling the life you seek.

If you look seldom for comfort, I’m sure a shoulder to cry on would exist when you found this reason to be in the company of your neighbor. Your understanding is needed to ensure abuse is rarely occurring, and your neighbor needs to grasp your idea of understanding, too. I’m lonely and it’s the middle of the night I do not ask for comfort from local places, I go to a neighbor. They would have to be good, though.

These are these qualities making up what a good neighbor is. Respect and understanding of space and when to invade our privacy if we need help.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008


I was. This past weekend. Thanks so much to everyone who came. Saw. And took vitamins.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Disguise into Rushdie Pumpkin

I want a nice big juicy fatwa
A squeezed gleason to whatsa matta?
You wasn’t allowed to fatwa squat on my pompadour
Growing up my parents would master splinter my ninja me.
Now I know it’s a farsa fatwa.
It wasn’t me

Like a ceremony, but with strangers doing it for free
Buying fake armlength jewelry like Bruce Lee
Who hates on hot bods but a fatwa.
A roundhouse kick works like piazza plotz
Bodies aren’t cool. We kill to be unseen with them.
Our liking deeds too much could mean fatwa.

I want a nice sweaty caddy slumming fatwa
A twin city sprinkle candy apple matzo
Something only provided by voluptuous mountains
Lactating on your latte Volvo driving vacation, chatty Creature!
Move to the country, sissy and wrap your mouth around this fatwa,
And you’ll never bratwurst this love hearse badly the worst again.

There’s a bump on my dick wrapped in a fatwa
A fatwa results in splatter: infectious?
Once one person’s team now the whole town juicy with fatwa
Blanketing the broken hills not drugs it’s Romper Fatwa
Places aren’t that enormous, but want chief big spew fatwa dick to bathe them.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

shows noon on his watch

Beaucarmen shows noon on his watch. I’m getting groceries. Sure, I want to wait, but not until we marry. Can show the date not being interested in fakes of anything, Beaucarmen might sing Allentown in the shower solo. Doing this risks the ruin of his tan line. Difficult to catch the bus without boasting a timepiece, the bearded time traveling only disciple capable of a Class-D license sees the display, spits out. These contenders. Tricky slider windows of pull-in, push down. The last day with graded papers into it goes shrubs. But those final drafts.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Predator Thanks the Academy

How can Predator
Leave his virus stone unturned
He loves critically.

No one can break metal heat
Finding cramping cringeworthy

Desperate men soon need help
Healthy iguana
On villains in Anime

Swollen ankles support her
Long necked sea ID’s China

Oh Iguana Predator
Without syllabus
I can never miss the train

Oh Predator! Lunch Money
Trade two halfsies for Jonesy

Poisonous Lethal Frogs: A Difficulty of Acceptance

When asked next time what you’d rather befriend, Poisonous
Should be amended to your proficiency.
Poisonous? Why lethal? Because frogs wonder about periodic relationships.
They research for definition, to stand out in front of the projector and notice
Yes, I am a magnate. My shadow

Frequent membership for exercise must
You must choose to work a thing like the gluteal ligament
That poisonous lethal frogs need, after letting themselves go
They are no longer radical.

If flabby frogs have newly renewed leases
One poisonous frog is just as terrifying a personality
As famous for poisonous frogs we all know
And learn about when discussion turns to poisonous frogs.

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

10 percent of your outfit

for Stan Apps

Belts are a part of our everyday regimen. Without a fastened belt, people’d remind you to hey fasten your belt! You’re NOT dressed. And they’d be right: you aren’t fully clothed if one of your belts is left unfastened.

Today I went for a swim and dressed again as I left the pool. When I forgot to do up my belt as I left I was undressed

I was told by one of the employees I was undressed.

He said, “I wouldn’t want to go out like that if I were you.” And I replied, “No, indeed. You wouldn’t do that.”

Monday, October 06, 2008

Sometimes Predator Becomes Temper-Losing Predator

Alas, maybe there is laughter from a faraway object
These flight crews I control
You’re sitting on

I'm going to Cancun! Drugs!
My headphones cannot change my side
I cannot be seen
Gaze as this scene and attempt to describe
What earth they’re doing

What is this picture doing or going towards?
I have zillions of photos from vacation
(Predator suit, bikini, nothing on, Predator nice
Single malt Predator slut.
Predator hung over Predator
Smoking *cool* Predator mom pic
Predator sunset)

All have my face in them.
I have an accent and a military shirt! Hugs-a-zillion!
I can see you understand my travels
Now comprehend my fist. Predator fist.
I'm going to blow up
With a Nail Salon!

Friday, October 03, 2008

Patterns & Narrative

Right about now, I'm going to generalize a bit:

I'm noticing (you guessed it) a pattern --several actually-- that has developed in relation to debate/election coverage that reveals three separate, though simultaneously occurring, narratives about politics in the US. All are targeted at separate audiences but no audience seems truly unique to one alone. They are all three media-based and -centered: print, TV and Internet journalism.

Narrative one is what I'll call the "newspaper narrative." Largely bombastic and full of yellowish bells and whistles ("Pit Bull Palin Takes a Chomp Out of McCain," this being a shorter paraphrase of a headline I just now saw on the subway). Newspaper narratives (think Daily News) pander to a quick reader, a person with no time for the fine print, the flip-flopping, the heavy details. They want Page Six and they want it now! This is the fan club for readers who think the Obama/Osama rhyme is, or ever was, funny. This is somewhat class based, and certainly anyone can obtain a newspaper. As a result, the attempts at fake neo-con/republican populism abound. There is no attempt to hide the political persuasion of the writer. Some skew right, others left. Most do it poorly.

Narrative two is the TV narrative. Slightly more astute, it at least gives the uninformed viewer an idea of objective reporting without any objectivity whatsoever. "Fair and balanced" is only one example of this, the most widespread being the iconic loud-mouth screaming a monologue into the camera with very little acknowledgment of a rebuttal. Since the actual television is more expensive than the newspaper, it evens out by dumbing down the narrative. Snippets and soundbites are manufactured to easily proffer to the viewers, most in a semi-sedated state of relaxation that they're not caught in traffic. (When caught in traffic, these listeners take advantage of TV's sister narrative, radio, also monopolized.)

Narrative three is the Internet-generated narrative. Containing all the populist pomp of the newspaper and none of the editorial filters, the Internet is rife with views from people whom the reader largely has never heard of. Nevertheless, because of the velocity of communication and "fact-checking" that can occur while Internet surfing (click link, click link, click link), the narrative tends to be cleaner, more polished. Add to this the tendency of most bloggers to be upstarts with above average intelligence and know-how. Many have taught themselves programming and Internet publishing, many inter-link with sites of interest, and many dictate what becomes news (hatred aside for many, think Drudge) and what stories die.

What I find most interesting (though, admittedly, I find all of it interesting, hence this entry) is not that these narratives exist, nor that there are people who buy into each -- perhaps dismissing the others -- but that no one notices this happening. Why? And can the cause be attributed simply to market demands and manipulation?

Do we believe any of these narratives? Should we?

from work

double aught
semi powerful
hunting bears


moving along

without kills
with hugs

with hugs are necessary

with hugs saving wildlife with hugs

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

I wanted to vote for Palin
Because she owns her debates
And because she’s hot off the charts
Of the yum scale (1 to 5)
She won the gold in Turkey.

Surely you will find her
Sprinkling flowers on the graves of dead soldiers
The places where dead soldiers lie
Turns into an amusement park
Palin brings cookies from a recipe she owns

I know Palin owns her man.
I’m getting an A in this subject
Basically I wanted to vote Palin
Because she owns pregnancy.
And she can tell us what to do in emergency.

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Padre Minor Calvo...

was a radio personality, religious leader (Catholic priest), and seemingly disarming man very much unlike Gandhi, who was badass and knew how to grab the British by the balls when it mattered. In 2005, Padre Minor was put on trial for being one of the "intellectual authors" of the murder of Colombian Journalist, Parmenio Medina...ah hell, you read it.

I mention this because this excellent video has been made, punning of "sonuvabitch," to create the cult of the "Son of Padre Minor." Veja!

You must have GREAT eyesight if you can see it from your house...

View Larger Map

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Possession by Took

While you’re not looking I’m just going to take your unique
You won’t need a unique so I’m going to take it
I’ll let you see what I take as long as you let it be taken
I learn by taking
You learn by taken advantages
I am you thought you had once seamonsters came
I am the seasmonster’s stepsitter
Allowing 5 hours of daily television
Blame, you are the seamonster.
Without culture the inner life withers and fruits rot
And the seamonster gave you the recipe for ice
Then you died. Buried as a seamonster
We accorded ritual to your celebration
Since history people quietly celebrate the death of a monster.

Friday, September 26, 2008

86 year-old Buddhist nun has texted Predator (from Japan!)



hI Prdter, u there?
Yes. Home coking. Lentils
no keeping food dwn.
2 vomit stomch
pain! Srry Prdter
I c u on da flpsyde.
wrting story o luv.
cannot about xplain very asian.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Predator in Shameless Photo-Op in Theory

In the middle of placing stones on the beach
A place for kneeling, not leg warmers

Not getting an operation the Predator receives fame
The Predator is seen following the photographers

Not the other way around
The Predator is pondering the usage of certain signifiers

To advocate a lost world where all people can eat at the same table
Being food for other Predators

And those Predators can commune in nature
To excuse transgressions made by ALIEN

Who might not know better because of sub par schooling
Right now Predators chain ALIEN and reduce her chances of survival

While other Predators object to the use of non-gender neutral pronouns for enemies
Mother Earth, My car She Drives well are terms we eliminate

They take us farther from experience and into the mind of Predator
A region where dwell dark desires in the form of secret areas with chains.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Nice French Manicure Predator

To be young and in love
Strewn like potato chips on the spine of our horizontal mambo
Can it be any other way to impregnate?
Rates increase lying on your back (to man)
Your soft tissue sample under the nail bed
Nice soft tissue silky Predator curvy

I was dismayed they picked the pretty Predator
Also pray tell why the panties
Protesting my pater guitar shrinkage
Solo dedicated to the Predator mother of my alien children
So intelligent but so needy

As entertaining as I peak with custard pie on my face
My petite Predators are suckling and pay no mind
The suckling figs pay no mind to the jackal
He is asking for ransom and has underestimate the Predator
Nice Fresh Manicure Predator

Monday, September 22, 2008

i'm about to marry the Predator (not really)

I’m about to marry The Predator
Dying being hit by a car blows
But marrying the predator
And being consumed is worse

There are no hairdryers on the Predator’s planet
And none in his bedroom
Because he can’t see you
And you can’t get loving
If you’re not seen

My excuses are lame but I’m marrying the Predator
Because I don’t really need his marriage
As an agreement about what modern eligibility is

I’m going to rub you down with mud Arnold so the Predator can’t love
I’m going to put you in marriage Arnold so the Predator can only love
To fight with you is a strenuous challenge as you find your jungle beat

Thursday, September 18, 2008


Some beliefs can be defined
As future-unfriendly policy.

When I remake a moral judgment
Into a fit of beef

Like a phoenix ensconced in jacket
Because my beliefs are tendonitis and docile

Like kittens on command can claw your face by the millions
Into a pool of mellow thrushes

Who sing until the day you return from hunting
With your boots as a man who followed you

Canceling the show was a task from god
Those who know drugs fearfully to turn into hope

Followed emission of a concept tweet
World judgment lags behind my desire to shine

As the best instrument most vocal defender
Itemization of plush realities and furry states

My moral code is a gift vase you cannot return
but that now you must obey

But you wouldn’t find flowers there
Because ultimately flowers are non-conformists.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Celica into the Wee Hours of the Night

You can be persuaded to swim if the water isn’t cool
It demands a kind word and the right hurtful stare at bathing wear
The radio battle in your car about placement
Of shiny antlers seeking reception on your hood
You are el vaquero underwear, if your car is traveling downstairs
Because Dude, you were financially irresponsive
You’re going to be persuasively configurative
And adjusted to basic insurance
Redolent twine, little green lizard “what insurance dudemanbro?”
And why can I never find a close spot this Dude obscures?
This is what is basically asked, Dude
Like here’s my number and toxin
Stains like on Dude’s shorts are foes of clean!
And we cannot have foe-ish info in parking lots bro
Can something like a shower undo?
How about a shower with rockets?
Can I bring my entire car into the shower of love?

God created chewing gum under the stars

God created chewing gum’s answer to holy war
If you keep a busy mouth, you are loving
Of all the lip smacking tenderness
Of the softest capability yours
Holy war is not prude
Holy war can make even the strongest heart lumpy
And giving good readings impossible

Holy war nude
And drunk on a train and liable to produce
Children who also will vote independent
Edits to the birth of the magisterial
Not approved by the Estate of Dead Author 1

Holy war sometimes drinks too much
Running naked through the town
And then when we ask where’s it going
The excuse is urgent renewal
A way graceful squirting gum captures our hearts
Depleting my ability keep food down
I guess the town needed it more

You Ninjas Are a Dirtier Special Edition

New and improved director’s cut
the view from above then

turns member throbbing you. With ritzy
banker Candy Dewworth

(Eric Roberts) allegedly appears
in a B-rated three piece, graphic content/spoilers.

Get a dong central. His life sentence by Inuit Morgan Freeman, prepped for Buddhism Body by Jake by shaving.

Candy befriends an older Billy Joel
now clean and rehab’d Morgan Freeman cameos.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

The suspicion you have first

In monkey’s brain, monkey voices
Understanding grilling techniques
After first monkey’s first day out

Numerous signs monkeys can be free
But are sick of trying
Be a real man’s monkey: try to be free

You can get sick outdoors or you
Can spy on monkeys
Little monkey hands negotiate difficult-to-bargain crevices
The test of true blue monkey desire
Is experimenting with different fits
Until one (a monkey) breaks off you know

In an example of defective reasoning
To combat monkey reasoning to inner monkey voices
Describe a voice you would like
Change the subject. Focus not
On what your monkey can do for photography
But on what your monkey is totally capable of

Monday, September 08, 2008

Alex Sears

Aside from being my partner-in-crime to be, Alex Sears is also an "emerging" (does anyone actually know what this tag means?) fiction writer with a love for Chaucer, Historical Figures, Rogues Gallery,Whitney Houston, beards and much more. I'm sure you'll read more of her work in the future, but you can get amazing samples not unlike Whole Foods on a Sunday if you head over to REASONS NOT TO KILL YOURSELF; her latest entry telling of the grueling Columbia MFA program and Anita Baker, of course.

Saturday, September 06, 2008

Mistake in the Grass

Oh almighty cons, you are mellow weavers
Constructing something bigger than my thinking
Your hand grip is melting snow, revealing
Leopards. They are there- whispering in the grass
Another of Sting’s almighty caliber songs
I made a mistake in the grass
But the grass kept smiling, caustically
We were asking to be poisoned

Shoving opinions down my throat
It’s inhuman not to sing along
To sounds our fingers make while whistling
The grass is vulnerable, and cannot hide
In a tune most leopards say they can understand
Hamming it up with The Man

I recently saw you mercilessly attacked on DailyKos
But your penis enlargement is unnecessary
In the grass I resort to my description as “Mighty”
I’m wondering if leopards are aware that I’m chasing them
Do they feel impressed or flattered
When I eventually tell others about your speaking style
Like how you include important details that other singers miss
To other leopards – not related— when they choose to listen

“Too many mistakes, you leopards,”
It’s okay they can’t hear me
Leopards no speakie English
But you’re getting their vote: absentee!
Videoconferencing leopards travel you see
Leopards leopards sitting in the tree, K I s s I n g

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

Muñeca desastre

el tipo sociable pudriéndose
existe un pretérite del tubo
Que ya no se usa traje entero
para taparte el vocal

baile el triste de reggaetón, millones
de bebes en la yema
el ven acá bucal, los huevos
quitan el auge, la gravedad corbata

se venden globos, artículos
sin hombro de ciudades, guarantizamos
que sabes donde apostar tus niños
quedate con los bienes raíces

Monday, September 01, 2008

Work at Sawbuck Poetry


My inner ad-subvertiness interest is piqued by this idea of having poetic "leads" that give you a glimpse, a by-line to click on to get to the full text.

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Wizards know how to love better


It all depends which D&D crowd you're referring to: the pimple-faced geek future Libertarians who played sober and thought Mountain Dew gave a great buzz, or the Daily Kos types who were too stoned to care about the greenish smoke wafting up through mom's house from the basement. I'll leave it to others to decide which demographic is currently more brain-damaged.

But I have to confess that only in my worst nightmare can I imagine the specialized Libertarian Party meaning of the word "dungeonmaster."

What I'm looking at. What are you looking at?


Friday, August 29, 2008

I don’t want to miss the Festival of Lunar New Year due to Spontaneous Meeting

I want to make well
Make it or break it
I want to sabotage a little hole in the ground
And withdraw particles that are dangerous for man
Whoabots Without Internet
Provide helpful connection
We are trying hard to understand
Liaisons to promote genius sharing
Of prior tested capability

I want to survive honestly
Affecting cells with resentful looks
Because the job market is flooded with fakers
Who find the soil there nutrient laden
I find an endearing hold of my friend’s hostage baby once it grows
During the baptism the substituted recipient objects
Everyone’s around me and wearing expired pop costumes
We have called the waiting taxi
Of human objectification

There is no Order in Cocoa Beach
No tradition, no fest
No profits and no reason I should be playing out the last tunes
On last year’s costume because of dulling meetings
And everlasting contracts

I’d prefer not to be coming to my senses in an ice bath
Holding someone else’s kidney
Asking am I an undeserving constituent
Answering to no man because I’m entrepreneur
Friendly, out in the cold cookie monster
Of slumlords! Fed off with macadamia

I was just this moment offering my excuse
For missing Lunar New Year.

Monday, August 25, 2008

food stuff

Good stuff slams democracy
Pounding leftovers into a easily conveyed mass
As being so crucial we can’t hold it down anymore.
Put my name as something between hot stripper
Dying in the animal zapper, Agribiz understandably
I stuff this chocolate into what I adore
Wet frou-frou papayas dance in hydrants
With my delight I stuff parcels and overpay
Machines working hard so you eat goodness
I have eaten the very specificity
(Finally) I’m chocolatay delite
Wonderful fucking question

Why are papayas in so much debt
Diplomats are coming into question
How chocolate can conjure conflict neutral spooning
Shoots out the olfactory and finds contractual
Sharing felchy bullseye--> Who’s into cocoa

Not this lame excuse of intervention called carob
Dracula scissoring two blondes in spaceage Nike Vlad Putin Masks
Their idea is making chocolate look better
And more mature,
Taking the medal for shiniest papaya…pre-tourniquet
Hands to hold the juicy contender

Friday, August 22, 2008


Today I'm getting a strange paranoid sensation. It might have something to do with the death, five years ago, in the apartment where I now live. It might, also, have to do with Susan Sontag's hauntingly simple Preface to WRITING DEGREE ZERO, or it might have something to do with my diet: very little veggies.

The cause was cancer. The bartender at Mexican Restaurant down the street says the body sat in the apartment for weeks until it was disposed of. Wait for relatives or kin. No record of this incident can be found in New York State databases. No complaints have been filed. Negligence? He had a pet snake; reportedly died too. How long was the snake forced without food? How to make an animal outlive its owner only to succumb?

Sontag is off the mark. History doesn't give newer faces to writers -- you're born with your face -- but more chances at masking. We choose which to use and when, and this choice architecture doesn't exist in the world of literary creation alone. Barthes' "later periods" cannot be judged as demonstrating a more mature position vis-a-vis style and form than his previous work because his previous writing remains accessible/accessory to him. He uses the tool that applies to the scenario. Because there is some going back. The masks are different, the tools diverge, and each flag varies. I raise a flag for flarf, I raise a flag for quietude, I raise a flag for form. Form party. Neither represents an unflinching fact, an organic potion summarizing where I am as a writer, but rather causes me to rethink my afore-focused intention, an assertion, a nod toward a certain moment of reaction or statement. A progression of an artform isn't chronological once time passes, because memory negates historical linear time lines. You don't say we don't go back once ahead. Rumination is every which way, back and forth, splayed like the legs of a jack. I can go back to writing love songs at any time. Love songs are predatorial entries for some into poetry, writing, and song.
Intentional reversion to previous modes from our present viewpoint adds focus and accrual of furnishings, but maturity? So my paranoia comes from the recidivism of these reversions, and what to do with we're going over the same tracks. Nietzsche?

And so, Sontag would be correct if she noted our view of historical experiences, and how this experience is entrenched in a commodity system: (for example) Gabriel García Márquez must write the "Márquez" in order to sell. He cannot mature and he cannot expand over the recognizable Márquez. What lines are recognizably Márquez are the exact copies of Márquez 1968, Soledad, Márquez, Cólera, etc. His own fiction is locked.

Outside of this system, others try to be "good," write "well," do well what we do, etc. There are attempts toward failure and toward boredom. These latter forces are more recognizable as being "experimental" inasmuch as they are uncertain enemies of commodity at best accomplices in a system in which some works must inherently find themselves on top (see, for example, Amazon Sales Rank).[It should also be noted that Márquez has never been formally experimental, and after Soledad, he hasn't been experimental at all.]

So, should "Gabo" Márquez experiment, the need to succeed would prove a challenge, but since he wouldn't actively seek failure ("engaged" literature wouldn't actively seek failure), he nor his work can be challenged.

PS. I'm not sure about this idea now that I type it out, I'm going to have to sleep on it...need greens.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Roseanne Barr's post on her blog, cited here, is amazing and flarfy:

"all celeb news is calling me to come on their shows and talk about my "attack" on brangelina. They say nothing about my attacks on howard dean, pumas, obama, hillary, maureen dowd, bush cheney, pelosi, congress, religion capitalism and satan though...I liked angelina til i heard her say she likes insane mccain for potus. By the way, I think elizabeth hasselberg is a f'r s're closet case that wants to get whipped by sherri shepherd in a black corset while old babs slaps a riding crop on both of their exposed butt-oxes. love, crackpot granny!"

Roseanne, you lick the gloved palm of the poet muse!

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Finding Your True Identity

Matt Damon owns it like hot terminal endpoints
Seeking to disrupt actions of US Covert Ops
Hunting him, anti-locking hungry and loving at once
He’s got an eye for territory as severance
The same size as me.
But authority is sleight and overruns closed circuit
In an attempt to assassinate journalists
How dare they bring that spelling in
Where there are a lot of people
Going to jobs the movie doesn’t talk about

Matt Damon has a hot rescue attempt at one point—
Is owned – And here he lets his hot asshole act,
A great display of rubber: choosing “innery” over gluttony
He fakes a call to local police to foil the intruders
And fights in a bathroom using a towel
A grappling he learned back when he couldn’t remember
He lives at the end, but we are unsure and unique
Because the camera is at the bottom of the ocean
Section of water he falls into
Murky and dark with end music playing
But the receptionist he saved smiles so we know he lives.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

One of my earliest writings (in my possession)

Dear Mom and Dad,

I wish you would let me stay up longer than Caitlin because I am older than her. Second she also needs more rest. Third I don't go to sleep until 9:30, so why can't I stay up till 9:00. Fourth I don't see why I go to bed at 8:30 when I could stay up until 9:00 like normal people.


Friday, August 15, 2008

The Internet as Language Limitation

In using search engines for our research, we are forced to limit word combination and language used to describe those ideas. Our language, if we are to find the correctly "googled" object, must be precise. We see what works and what generates the most search results, and what doesn't.

The Internet is training us to use less and less in our desire for precision rather than accuracy, and I don't like it one bit.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

la historia oficial

Mitad homenaje a la democracia argentina, mitad polémica que intenta liberar el pueblo de la sombra "dictadorera," habrá que ver como termina....

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Old done new

When the snow falls I will be safe
I will huddle with lunch and will not react
I will be slow, like I wanted to as a kid imagining that being an adult is adult.
I would pound my chest: A thousand snowblower sale
In the ice age without sandwiches
Looking for a fight, hot dog milk? I thought of these combinations
A whole other ballpark

Just THINKING of a nosebleed means I’m going for it
About a master's degree.
This exact parka. Spoke?! Not now, bike. Stay in.

What could General William Tecumseh Sherman read?
How about snow falls on cedars but I will be safe XXL!
Who peed? Nice pretty ponies or your fire sale?
How about the engine warms the gift
The only gift I was given and lost it
To the old age home.

It doesn't matter. Snow talks but I’m not hearing nonsense.
Chest operations nice tits.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008


New at Amazon...
The kazoo is a fun toy.
The kazoo is a funny toy.
The kazoo is a swinging koi.
The kazoo is thrusting we don’t ask why.

Monday, August 11, 2008

I Have Sometimes Called Gas the Greatest Invention

[A repost of a piece I've been working on, unfinito]

I wanted to go places but then I had no car
I have sometimes called things coming out of my nose
Great inventions then I realized their sad little limitations
I wanted to kill for gasoline but I had no car
There was a limitation to transportation: I couldn’t be everywhere at once
I wanted to be Skeletor but my gas face didn't
I wanted gasoline to become a face but my mask car
Was in the garage I couldn't own taxes are limits
A bear with a can of meth places on your overalls
I’m a shell of my self which wants bush and gas in my car

She wanted my Skeletor by my gas face didn’t
Accept Skeletor or tell Skeletor the truth
My particle accelerator extended timeout
But my Chevy Castro found space lacking
Skeletor wanted me places but I had no sister
Even he had limitations on who
Everyone wanted to ride the spaceship but gas
A Skull and Crossbones Accelerator for One! Shrunken gas face!
A little known fact about Hershey Park became shrunken
Our severe limitation on why this invention cannot happen
That kept Real Estate Tax from pesky masking
Problem is my mask was in the garage
And How the Garage Saved a Nation
When there isn't gas we walk and we save
Please bush make it rain gas I want gas
In pools around Hershey Park great limitation
We don't like the rides here's a mask.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

Free Workshop Offer


My now-defunct dog story receives an appealing glissando.

Merci, comentaristas!

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

subcutaneous tarnish

I have come upon grosser backne
but let me live
the various crèmes and salves leftovers
cannot challenge me enough
dating salesman and Swedish sales rep
big teeth, imagine Claudia Schiffer

I’m imagining backne progression on Claudia
how she must spend her life in hats, as blemish cover
as we all do in a fair world, giant forehead spreading backne
and makeup can you imagine your design?
this backne creates a space for engine carbohydrates

because Europeans love Kmart and Disney and backne
this will be the evidence used against them
in proving they’re just people, in Orlando
there are rockets of backne shooting Orlando full of big sweaters
spraying a European backne massage into your teeth

and your writing tells the easy European that there’s no dealing with backne
a thousand houses fit into your master bedroom
accruing activity in a dream kitchen
hanging space, and shoes order for you
because I’m a flat butt backne person
or putting Claudia Schiffer on your team as clean up kicker
for team Mattress Warehouse when the kickball field rules are Australian, not Orlandoan
rockets wrapped in cable knit pink backne leftovers
carry the Swedes to peace and blemish-free don’t fight over sinks

Friday, August 01, 2008


1a vez que veo a Ray Romano, tenía un movimiento.
Obligando celibato! Fue increíble
El universo calienta el individualismo calienta individuos
Y la fiesta da nombre al Señor
Romano unos cuantos tipos de basura.
La expansión pone fin a la
Individualismo y la calentura
Ideas subversivas la familia Romano plática en contra de mis cambios
Que me dice! Son climáticos
Y en contra de la caliente estupefacción
Requeriendo sus votos calientes
De “repeat: calentura fácil”
Porque venimos de la Estupefácil Taxi Co.
Hasta incluso su primo Estúpido Caliente
Nos obliga de no repetir eso tipo de cliente caliente
En el caso Romano dicen que somos todos unas copias
De colores y no a la piratería
Del propio Ray desapareciéndose al comerse el alma
Campeón de futbolín! En cambio las entradas de “pura fortuna” no necesitan almas
Hago de todo salvo perder la sandal se escucha decir
Quiere la preciosura cosita en la vida, calentamiento cuerdo
Y los batidos que Ray utiliza para engordar
En el tamaño del sal estratégico
Porque lo reconocen y son capaces de destruir sus chances
Y durante su cobra fortuna de lotería Ray no lleva calzoncillos. QUE terror!
Tiene cara de terrorista, Ray Romano tiene dientes
En su bacteria es la más interesante
Porque le han hecho estudios calientes con intereses
Quieren ser parte del gobierno
Dice que es “pura suerte” que corre por sus venas de “pura chocolate”
Pero Ray Romano se usa los celos y las convicciones
Y me ofrece en su mirada la vida electoral
Realizamos los sentidos cardinales del vecino (episodio 132, ver. Del 2005)
Lleva ropa bien cara, tipo Romano
Felicidades primo, me pica donde menos esperaba
El más cursi enojo de los Wiki
Va a Irak –que fresa!-- para su episodio del Soledad Romano
La lengua busca su lugar pero encuentra sandalias y medio desuso
El mismo uso lingüístico pone tipo a hombre y Romano encarcelado por tonterías
Que el código de animal que Ray suena cuando le da
Rapidez a sus crias y vida de los “ratings”
Mientras pobre Romano explora el mejor “look” de calentamiento progresivo.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Poema migratorio

El más difícil y reprochable hecho del debate de la migración se desarrolla en la esperanza misma esperada de los ricos y su deseo de ser tratado igual a los pobres siendo éste último (grupo, masa, muchedumbre, población, vehículo, publico sin publico) quien está condenado a un sistema desigual en la cual se les esperan actuar como si ocupase la misma avenida de acción que el anterior.

Pues, de querer ser tratado como seres iguales aunque no lo sean tal vez al decir que sí lo son lo son, pero aun así, no lo son, aunque sí disfrutan de los derechos como si fueran.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

ya era hora de blogear en español

Ya nos mudamos (pasamos, pues) al barrio del Harlem Español donde hay más espacio esencial y un paraninfo inacabable (inacabábel). Solo treinta y cinco minutos después y llego al trabajo, y eso es todo lo que necesito llegar. La comida de la avenida es la comida mexicana que prefiero. Llegar en tren dura. Poquitísima. Llueve y no se ve por el alquitrán. Prefiero la comilona. Los sonidos semejantes, no usamos tantos altoparlantes.


El arzobispo de Constantinopla se quiere desarzobisconstantinopolitanizar. El desarzobisconstantinopolitanizador que lo desarzobisconstantinopolitanice, buen desarzobisconstantinopolitanizador será.

Saturday, July 26, 2008


Regrettably, I've never been a big reader of Richard Rorty. So I've only recently found his "autobiographical" essay, TROTSKY AND THE WILD ORCHIDS. A marvelously fun time! An intriguing read for the conflicted, the curious, and those who need to read more Rorty, like me. And while I object to his categorization of Latin American Marxism as a failure largely owing to a lack of pragmatism (embodied in the USA-made, John Dewey), the autobio is worth its errors. Especially if you like to study orchids and feel that in doing so, your deep betrayal can be sensed by the International Workers of the World.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

The Country of Scales of Josey

My modifications do not modernize plus east therefore more, therefore more, because more, if more when upholder, this internal one, my equality of such method is necessary seriously,

those, are the extremity with form the elasticity small one, this memorizza, if extremity, with the obvious to give around their apprehension. Great extremities were the external thing of everything,

my consequences of f__z of isn___t that more this examinaci__n regulated Pantless, of that to be he present
information of the information of the introduced information of, this automatic Howie, he movement, that threes of ricey inner piece, for this form, unexpected Swimming pools of the shutdowns were for indifferent registada to the

external part with this with character
this relative energy, of that flied the extremity of the effect,
in winch of this extremity, that for the extremity,
of that for ostru he conclem, of that the relative extremity scaric,

I’m a type used this tryout of wiedergeburt.
The horse must work ulteriorly.

An extremity you effect relative experience.
All the summary valve of the valve of the valve of the valve of the diode, light of that irradiates is the damages for the instruction with the form of disturban salubrious piece the end to

only announce the extremity, to the extremity, that is the extremity,
of the east this that commits the small modifications of the section
of marcature of this include/understand, scrumbled.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Language as Migrating Beef Options

Death my pimp ride my small tie droops into the soup I’m barely recognizing myself in.
Shoeless and all big toes standing taller than the other boys my age isn’t consequences.
Pantless automatic air conditioning Howie can get a cooler motion happens in threes.
My power to steer impedes launch stares. I’m a fun guy repeats a tryout.
Even the horse has a line. A point you can’t push her past.
Toys and gorillas plus resentment isn’t real but defendable and can to inflate.
Lengths noise goes through to announce reduce changes to marks only certain few understand.

Monday, July 14, 2008

This isn’t Indiana Jones, but what is anymore?

-Dedicated to the memory of May 22

There is no hope in finding new remakes
That talent is just lost
Their shoes are the knock offs
Rashida in Public Relations understands innate

Reflexes Indiana Jones has are different
Made with yarn, quick to move into
Than actually possessing deep comprehension
Of the zeitgeist mean embrace Jones’ intentions
A big mess fighting against a group of Soviets

And whether this has led to ballads, or Internet usage increases
In queries of “Is this really a sequel” or “Can strategy determine
Hollywood” making reactions to newer broad displays
Reactions to “excuse me huge phallus reader” vary if only we act as ruling librarian
Who isn’t Indiana Jones but shares and cares together
The Russians are destroyed easier than you or I are destroyed

And the feeling gets under my coat
I want to make it last
With soda, the easy of heartfeltness couldn’t relt going
When this cinch can lie how marking now sauce
Jones Dr. Jones calling Dr. Jones Jones keep up
You picture will scream and run into the away bin

Sunday, July 13, 2008

I had promised to change

Two eggs, milkshakes, the rigors of training
Climbing this wall I’ve been my happiest
When I found my tuck to be satisfactory
And seem to find harmony
Prepared with most experts
And am livening their steak terms with my bloodparts

My many tears and flavor meal skimping
To win big in storage economies
Cannot produce results of pure crept
Where the water in my hydration series sept

Try playing basketball in one depth
Your result ends the bloat

And today’s bargains are flying off their loq’d
Contagious bloat
Before my regular shift

Crockett cap you can change me
But first sway into a crowd

That a billboard should be there
Two laps round, one holding you within turbines
Made to confuse your choices with words
Some simple word that you cannot decide
Like where to eat when strangers are in town

Until dizziness gives the grass burn
You can see the dripping fat
Really popular around Olympic weeks

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Heel Hitler

I’ve got some crap on
My shoe not worth listening to, it’s Hitler

Rub the grass with your Hitler, and brown will turn
Green again.
A broken and stained Hitler is genuine and more legit however

A slight itch follows,
Can be felt upon removal of Hitler.
This is fleeting and is soon gone.

Don’t buy cheap imitations of
The History Channel’s least
Kept secret dictator…
They are quick to fall apart
And nothing says “dumb local”
Like the original worn
At a time deemed wrong and useless.

Be prepared for dealings with
Back ordering;
Demand is high
Supplies are at their lowest yet unbelievable

But please don’t use duct tape and plywood with Hitler
Or have a drill to send him under the desk

Please be patient for Hitler.
Chief understanding is a step
An integral belief system in stress reduction
Is killing off already crazy hegemons
Too early.

What do you think about Pashmina?

Product of being hit by idiot driver
the supernatural: this sentence no verb
Convert into
Other stories about stacey’s mom
Flopped and chopped original
Awful to restore
Brazing was necessary
Rides lovely
Shave a bit more
Bottoms French
Blue suede saddle
Blue suede crap
Tall side
Presumably, yields a translation sentence
A very high discriminate power
Mutates a DNA sentence
You may have to try several times as the Blob squirms
wow--first time I've ever used that word in a sentence!
A Wearable Computer Based American Sign Language Recognizer
Defines "blob-counting" to consist of a filled square
Original self insertion parody

Sunday, July 06, 2008


Banba (バンバ) - barbie-gal, with differences such as their wearing of slippers and stilettos. They also use more glitter, and have a neon touch to their hair. They use more extreme-looking types of false eyelashes and coloured contact lenses. The most respected Gal-cir is Angeleek; there are 22 members in their Tokyo group, and they have many other groups throughout the country. YEAH!

Saturday, July 05, 2008


You Ritz, nite black. Blue eyed on the train special one, I’m July and its fourth white shirt blk noon I had to leave the Ruff Club early because it got out of my pants. Uptown,
Pants are more exciting and blonde in Williamsburg. I have exercised your facebook. Noon. Nice hands sonic trade grapple; poster what happened? Asian? Running?
Kisser you are, red strings string thorough. Both arm tats, baby poster! Chocolate men!
EVERYWHERE! On a downtown train Me-blonde, me in a to-go bag! Botanists, hair Satanists 66th qua Amsterdam, sw garden and freckles. I am looking for oswaldo santos stunning asian woman.

Friday, July 04, 2008

Chef from Sweden learning Spanish at Casino for Children Learning to Speak


Thursday, July 03, 2008

Hard Core MindF*$k

Director’s cut. Hot prison sex amidst late-capitalist
“pastiche-y” architecture be debriefed
(Chiang Kai-shek). Note the trellises
in the botany, warden.
Writers kept so busily in prison.
Dewworth shown as the envy of Boy’s Town
for his Fire Drills and sense of steeple. Drivers might
find the nature hard to watch. Commentary by
Hardy Below and Maurice pile up

Wednesday, July 02, 2008


Who here thinks THE GOAD STANDARD (or just, GOAD STANDARD...) might be a good title for my book?

I, for one, do.

Any seconds?

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Unwanted Crease

-from Body Rock

Smart lifting
Conservative dieting

Break period
Break period

Zeroing class
Breaking period abolishing
Decimating uptake
Well-rested targeting
Pad smart lifting
Kit smart lifting
Class smart lifting
Dieting breather conservative
Zeroing kit

Period abolishing
Decimating breather
Well-rested abolishing
Zeroing pad smart
Kit conservative
Uptake dieting
Break smart

Targeting class
Power lifting

Monday, June 30, 2008

Glamazon Thong Song

Gramazon too old
Dot da bom Glamazon
Glamazon unleashes flatten
Glamazon your mom
Glamasaurus woofs
Over the wooftips of Glamazonia
Paypal at
Behind the wheel Glamazon

Glamazing Glamasaurus
Glamaster Gash
Glamazon and Butthead
Lookout! For Botox Glamazon
With big eating, must feed all of bloodwork
Glamazona, jumping frog in Glamazonas County
Asked of Glamazing difficultly asked if quitting
GlamDepopulated for sugar!
Not until Botox Patch services all of London
And London’s Glamazon heart
Did you learn nothing of Glamazoning Western Music?
Two days ago, I emailed, asking about their not-so-subtle advertising campaign. So much for participatory consumerism. Read below.

My question:

Ticket Information:
Ticket #: 5415-5938975
Date Created: 6/28/2008 11:42 AM EST
Details: Original Email Information

Subject: Your ad on monster
Purpose: Feedback

Why does the cigarette look like a giant penis? Are you suggesting that smokers are obsessed with penises? So much for subtlety.

Their reply:

Thank you for taking the time to express your concerns about the EX® program. We take all feedback seriously, and we are always looking for ways to improve our program. As you know, when it comes to quitting smoking, what works for some people may not work for others. Thankfully, there are many resources available for people who want to quit. We encourage you to continue looking for the program that's right for you. When you're ready, we know you can make a change and become an ex-smoker.

We wish you all the best,

The EX® Team

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Not-so-subtle (quitting) smoking ad

I'm not making this up, from a site called [Ad taken from And yes, I found this while searching for jobs.]

Friday, June 27, 2008

becoming toxic, the manager
tastes so that we might enjoy
arms’ reach and pick our poison.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

a belief made in Switzerland just says healing

Does this **** creep come with majonnaise?

Brazed fillets
Soufflé brazed, mass

Poems analyzed for meter, imagery, and going along
with vacation figurative language: meaning will be heaped
and burnt, treated with the acid that poems deserve

Holdon, griefstrike
A4, casing your tubular rampart craning
Have you felt exacerbated? Releasing jelly

View of symbolic razed?
Plumed majonnaise, serpentine

The fifth holder maya nasa

Xmas greeting
*** called me stupid with *****

Fruitcake interpretation:

A belief made in Switzerland just says healing
It’s just fruitcakov, I abhor

Does open source
Grotesque examples

Hand held
In a way that assumes fond
Or exactly! Mouse-like rinse

Post-intermix finds uses
For camp

Sprouts rob grout
Kitsch stars inner camp lace
Grimy arm rests

Mr. Potato can litigate
From fresh perspectives

Monday, June 23, 2008

Invisible Man (Ellison)

"Somewhere a machine began to hum and I distrusted the man and woman above me."

Sunday, June 22, 2008

You should figure out a way to not let this get away

Don’t miss out on Vtg 90s Plaid FLANNEL Grunge DROPWAIST Mini Dress XS/S
Don’t miss out on Vtg 70s Dolly Mod secretary mini dress gingham
Don’t miss out on 60s Sheer BOHO prairie sundress
Don’t miss out on Revival slouch Grunge black mini dress
Don’t miss out on Vintage 90s floral romper grunge boho dress
Don’t miss out on Vtg grunge brown plaid flannel lumberjack button up shirt XL
Don’t miss out on Blue ruffed lace secretary western blouse
Don’t miss out on revival grunge hi waist yellop dropwaist Lolita
Don't miss out on item HOT Vintage 80s AVANT GARDE Jacket with BEST COLLAR!
Don't miss out on amazing vintage 80s bally leather and snake flame heels
Don't miss out on Wow 80s vtg Indian motorcycle dealer jacket flight coat
Don't miss out on item Vtg 80s AVANT GARDE Cape Coat Anorak Cream
Don't miss out on Vtg 80s Sailor Mini Dress Tunic Gold Buttons xxs/xs
Don't miss out on Vtg 70s Disco Scalloped Tiers Mini Dress Studio 54 S/M
Don't miss out on Vtg 80s Tight Fit Mini High Waist Leather Biker Skirt M draped
Don't miss out on vtg avant garde checkered plaid caftan tent cape dress blue rear
Don't miss out on artsy vintage 80s avant garde euro trash dress mint maxi

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

The Local

By way of a recent blog post, Stephanie Young seeks (at least part of her essay deals with this) a more local internet, only to end wondering just what do we mean by local.

The local is anything readily accessed or paired with. I'm near, it's local. It's anesthetic! If I'm part of a local scene (images or codified stimuli that have more meaning for me than for others) then I'm easily located in the space of that scene. If that scene is located on the Internet, that scene, for me, is local. I can loco there, a quack doesn't echo- I can maneuver within that space. This works regardless of whether I'm part of a burgeoning scene from Sydney, Australia, or Trieste or New York City. If I move within I'm loquacious enough for the scene to become local/localized to me. Locality, localness -- en loco parentis with screaming Al Pacino masks -- has changed for me, and mostly for us, with access to what I'll call "the locality acceleration" (sounds right out of Logan's Run) of the Internet. What is should be of further curiosity is how the Internet changes the sense of locality in my own head. How is it I empathize with those souls of Sydney by belonging to their scene, since I know nothing of the city? Is my assumption of the local merely localized to a specific group of interests?

Have our chances of experiencing localness multiplied or moved out of the way?

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Caca de cara

Caca rara caca
Cara de caca caca cara, cara cara, cacaracha cara
cucaracha caca
Caca cara, cucharada cada cara caca cara
que cara Caracaca, racacara
Caracas cara caca caca cara cucharaca macha
Caramucha macha, caracara cararacha mala caca
Cara mala caca racha cara caca
Macara caca

Cara caca rara
Cara de caca caca rara, cara cara, cacaracha rara caca
Cucaracha rara cucha
Caca cara, cucharada cada cara rata caca cara
Que cara Caracaca, racacara
Caracas cara caca caca cara cucharaca macha
Caramucha macha cara racha mala cararacha caca
Cara macha mala caca racha cara macha caca
Macara caca rachara cacha.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008


A great article anti-slam/spoken word by Heriberto Yepez can be found here

To my most honor and able man friend

My Yankee of Periodic Elementary and yet the other day debriefs to my soft explains. This will I do in type. Let’s rassle. Here a rickshaw melody targets a fossil city. Quell smooch. I bet my ugly buttress on ancient Greek. Finders helter into blissful heliports. I have outreached dicing stasis. This very moment a teller cant down a building. Crashes and bums in the metro to fill the nightclub with amore. So what, I say, I guess. I, lick the men who cull you, what intestines taurino feel. Each name wraps a SHLDR and never learns your trouble sports. Nothing but police in our sexuality, we forsook after great lengths forsook thoroughfare. What keeps me is a jerk of wheel. Oh these days jamb halter.

Yours, in a Loamy SEAT,

Southern Hocky League

Monday, June 09, 2008

Armored Elevator

I finally put my book, Armored Elevator, online.


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from here

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Sunday, June 08, 2008

Ann Richards, former Texas Governor

"Poor George [Bush, Sr.]. He was born on third base and thinks he hit a triple."

sarge says coolit

levels of backup do not
prof. windshield

talking the field you
candidate for Klepto besides

trooper don’t press any
bottom maneuvers

police pick up the outfield
custody no homerun

a sting product, regards trammel
with osso bucko, Grant

I let your brothering
I work solo chili willie sucky sucky

in on my little secret
about my V-card


[Note: I wrote this over a year ago and never posted it. I met Mel during the Flarf Festival here in New York, so I thought I'd post it.]

-after Mel Nichols

your priest catch me
steaming, his long mane
growling, blest
winning at powerball

the doctoral mangroves around us

Pauly retells his nations of harvest
yet ShurSave won't carry Urdu yams
the yam washing pre-culture
pulls up for the knutes

Tuesday, June 03, 2008


[N.B. In yesterday's comment box I mentioned that I hadn't mentioned the term "capitalism" in my post, Beckett. I was wrong because...

Oh wait, I DO mention capitalism.

My reason -- for forgetting it, I suppose -- was this: capitalism has less to do with how we judge things than our desire to always judge things according to the same criteria. Do we like it? Are we kept interested? Does it makes us want to return it? 'Buy' it again? Would we come back for more? Etc.

You cannot judge something that lacks the success/fail basis (how well it works or doesn't work for all buyers, like a product) as "working" and "not working." I mean, you CAN, but it doesn't make much sense, because poems have these things called audiences -- unlike products -- which aren't all the same. Audiences have different dreams, even though they might all be after some poems.

It's because of poetry's effect on each reader/listener, and not our judgments of the work (i.e., you can't hate this poem because it's subjective and I wrote it and love it to pieces) is why poetry is deemed subjective. But that's another post altogether, silly ryan.]

Monday, June 02, 2008


Fail better. And again.

Failure in poetry is an interesting concept. Because inasmuch as the idea of failure/a poem's failure is bandied about, I'm going to call bs here.

What? Really? Can I actually be effin' serious? I don't think a poem can fail?

No. I don't. I think workshopspeak has invaded our lingo, that this idea is ghosted by other, bigger ideas that occupy the idea of failure, that the idea of failure is too firmly tied to object failure (not abject).

When something is supposed to work and it fails, it just doesn't work. The object doesn't cease be there, sitting around not workingg. But our capitalism is hurt. Our sense that money can buy progress is shaken, and waivers. And goodie goodie. The object works so our money works. The object breaks, our money breaks.

I'm very suspicious of the idea that a poem can fail. Sure, some poems get at their objective better than others; some are more precise, more poignant, more acerbic, funnier, more ambitious etc. Some even have wide audiences. But this notion, that a poem can fail, really only seems written into writing that doesn't make the bestseller list after getting big fat advancey paychecks.

The reason I'm interested in this idea is because it betrays (is treasonous towards) hubris and certainty. Just when you think you've got it, a downward spiral. The ambiguity of failure means another poem and another, which isn't failure at all. No writer can really know whether or not something isn't failing until it works. But if there's no one around, there's no forest, and certainly no failure.

So failure might exist, but only socially. Nothing fails in and of itself. So, for today, dear reader(s), I'm going to write something that fails, and not because I'm looking to make The Times list, but because I'm going to write something that fails and fails good. Like this, perhaps.

Saturday, May 31, 2008

So, you think YOU'RE sneaky?

You don't compare.


I don’t know the measurement, I’m assuming it’s hot sauce

Excuse me, but I think I’m growing
Pressure I can feel
Beats me in my own fresh driveway
Going to be bigger than a house on this capital punishment sauce
Dave’s hot death manic depressive sauce
Dave is working with Peter to make
Peter’s My Grandchildren are Hurting from this sauce
Is eaten in small bites by capital bigwigs
Moving and shaking shaving wins you big
Capital rewards card thrown out while on this sauce
This sauce is only ketchup
And flavors are missing out due to bland regional taste
Excuses for why I’m exploding in this year’s Olympics?
Icon for thunder
I’ve been rewarded sauce and depression
The Depression Olympics
With hot death manic new setlist
How does this deal with hot death manic new sauce setlist? Easy
On the sauce, you eat small bites until the punishment is
“Really just sauce is making me uncomfortable”
Not to mess with cacophony growth sauce, my size
Within sustainable samples of unnatural but blessed crimping
Doing nothing all day but warrants sauce

Monday, May 26, 2008

Translator of Kill

Wherein Jeb and F. Scott Espectaculo are called to the crime scene

Oh predator, my predator had been scrawled next to the body. The dropped dictionary. At first Jeb thought it was paint.
“Nope. It’s nylon based. Not scrubbable, not matte.” He paused.
“Not Dick Blick,” F. Scott Espectaculo added.
“And from the thermometer reading, this body’s never been so comfortable.” Scott looked up from his watch— the putty knife in his other hand— as if telling time over Thanksgiving dinner.
“I couldn’t care less if it’s nylon or Dacron. Put the knife down first. This sprawl has a ripe n’ healthy pallor compared to that last scene,” Jeb flashed.
“True. True,” F. Scott’s voice trailed off, as if thinking of his first time.
“Benjamin Moore?”
“Let me jog your memory. Come on, it’ll be momentary exertion.”
“You did it standing up. Nor did you have any time to establish lasting contact.”
“We were at the bagelmart, the east side of town, see, and the parking lot had piled up with cop cars, too thick for any criminal action,” Jeb added.

“True, true. They’d make arrests the moment you uttered the word ‘Kill!’ remember?”
“Yeah I do. And the dancing Shriner with the capgun quit bothering us, his hatful of sprigs from God knows what plant, running around, owning the place, pinching everyone’s nose and chuckling, ‘I’m a Jesus fish, I’m a Jesus fish.’
“Remember?” Jeb looked at F. Scott imploringly. Jeb stopped.
“You have a piece of something right there.” Jeb, pointing at his face: “Here?”
Espectaculo looked up from his watch. Two ten pm. It read Jueves, August 23.
“There, yes. You got it. But shit! I’d almost forgotten to ask. Wasn’t this guy head of some international spelling crime get-together happening in town for the next few days? I tried to get tickets— figured it’d be a great place to meet people we might later bust. You however, had said not to be hasty. Him?”
F. Scott’s voice had been ascending in pitch since wasn’t.
“You can’t tell that from his suit. Gee, you’d think they’d know just where to shop. This is obviously faux.”
This last comment came out, nearly a shriek, a soprano.
“But in this case, a very interesting case indeed, the perp must’ve raided Home Lumber, Paints & Construction to find this mix. It’s rare. They use it in racing,” Jeb huffed.
“Well then, we should get to the bottom of each word’s roots.”
“A stellar plan,” Jeb broke in. “To get some idea of what and who we’re dealing with.”
“To kill. I kill. You kill. He or she kills. They kill. We kill. You all kill.”
“That’s great Scottie ma’ boy. But where’s the meat? Where’s the etymology?” Jeb, frustrated, asks.
“Probably in the same family as cuore, with a real family-building feeling and tone,” F. Scott said, not taking his own eyes off the chest cavity, his cleaning aimed at making a tidy little space for accepting that this was happening. He scarcely wanted to say it: M-u-r-d-e-r.
“The word just makes your insides ache.”
Espectaculo knew the word. Of the words he knew, it happened to be nearest to Murcia. He had wanted a vacation there. To sunny Spain. Shaped like an almond, smell of punch. The voting had gone to the north. Eventually, Estremadura had won out. Scott would have to wait until much later to gaze at the snarling, windless bulls of the ring. The matte blood; so rare to spot matte on fur and see it still moving. He wasn’t much used to living contexts.
And tyrannicide was certainly another coin, too. Set upon by whom he called dogs; that unstoppable violence from income disparity and even poorer statesmanship. And there they were, The Joneses. But murder? Snuff the Joneses? Scott hadn’t heard it in years.
“It seems unlikely that he just stepped out for a cigarette and blam! in this outfit. He eats a bullet. In this weather? You’d hear the sound. This part of town is dead. The gray of it, I’d lose my appetite for just about eating anything. I don’t know why we’re here.”
“To put the fixings on this body and ship it to the basement guys,” Jeb said. “With better degrees.”

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Over Kill

The idea of beating a dead horse, itself in bold, creates interesting possibilities within poetry. I find this all so dern interesting. In some cases, the death causes the reader to revisit something forgotten in our fast-paced world with too many highways. Because did I mean super or informational?

In other cases, readers are shown how easy it is to kill something already dead. Here, the poet says, "Now, you too, readers, can do some work. Work will be good for you." This, too, is of value. Readers must sometimes think original thoughts and not killed ones. Readers must know when they are being offered killed thoughts, and how to spot the difference. And yes, in still other cases, readers learn from the mistakes of poets: Don't visit this area where they kill dead horses if you desire to suck from the marrow of conversation at parties. Famous people usually aren’t horsekillers that nobody likes.