a balloon filled w/ red paint, right?
Hungry people throwing a pot lick dinner
love will tear us a new asshole
covering another collection of
& then he died right away
but who manages to make the most of magazine subscriptions?
One’s personal empire
writing has become a thicket—brambling aimlessly
& that was how he looked without his mask on
questions in a world of blue
bump that beat like pinball tilt
“are you accumulating?”
This is the diary of Laura Palmer
Kitty was a pet store cat
that forest was the one from Legend of Zelda
& that is lovely fruit
we were hunted almost to extinction
I didn’t want any, so I only ate half
“Elizabeth May Visit”
moon in the sky “a holy headlight”
you refuse to do what must be done
derive delight from irregular objects sent in the post
if I was smarter, I wouldn’t exist.
Farm animals die in slaughterhouses—try not to forget this
who will be the last patient to leave the hospital of the soul?
This poem won’t stop flipping channels
lines, blurred lines, painterly lines, line in nature, staff lines
Jon ran himself over with the car
clouds aren’t even clouds… just air & water discovering their limits
& some frankly irrelevant poetry
dreamed Chuck Yeager had “some Christian beliefs”
what needs to change for me to have that writing time I’ve been dreaming of?
As a child, I learned to watch TV
you’ll probably be ready for it to be over when it is
all these years living in a cave
superhuman circus freak
an essay on the morbidity of everyday life
like a child’s novelty; a ViewMaster
realer than thou
seeing that their bodies are made inside out of like material / must now puke
everyone knows you can’t be cool if you gotta try
use that filthy, filthy reverb
our inability to publish your submission is not indicative of the quality of your work
this is my protest against the passage of time.
Used as a bloatation device.
White as such