destruction w / o consequences: yay!


Nobody thinks I’m funny.

Wiretapping myselves for our mutual entertainment


you know who dat was? Dat was Jean-Marc LaDouche of da Montreal Canadiens

witnessed his cheesy suicide, head in hands


drinking whiskey in the parking lot of the Wells-Barkerville school

& you know he only smokes tailor-mades


your skin needs to be elasticized

federally funded government jazz


wait, I changed my mind

a small brown hand, open, offering a blue pearl


he wasn’t a prisoner, he was a mental patient

the feeling of crying is inseparable from the act of crying itself


I’d rather shit myself to death

the rain on the windshield makes the stoplight a redeye photo


desire is its own alibi

have I grown into myself?


Everyone wants to create their own alphabet so they can lie with impunity

could bite without warning: “dentally unstable”


the edge of a photograph face

mechanized applause / “thank you”


“I accept (almost) everything”

you said I should write this kind of song but you were wrong





nervous twitch makes face look like booby trap


you teach us things you can’t learn

shaved his face right off


it is neither the unfolding not its witness—it is both at once

(do I get swept away?)


When you grind your teeth, does the dust go to heaven?

But if you make a mistake, you can’t awake


tonight at the Penetrator, opening for Swollen Members!

“Spirit, I can’t watch anymore!”


Hospital time eats up hours in the cafeteria

don’t never be understandable


white people falling in on themselves

consider yourself fired from my movie.


This is the voice of jazz in decline

Heim: “occasionally, things go right; then you wonder what went wrong”


it’s never going to be that easy again

c’mon, fat kid. Let me help you kill yourself.


A long ways off the truck was still

smashes all these various objects with a rake


music is a group hallucination



nothing is a glass about to break

alone in the hallway of night





come into his angry power inheritance


King Kong Motherfucker

pink black Mohawk nomad science


two rainbows through the bus windows

he was high in acid-washed denim clouds


  1. always wants us to turn it down

remember how to have shivers


she wore blue              vel       vet

a harlequin


her society has undergone changes he cannot imagine

a predatory interest in women


what vertiginous logodaedaly!

Drunk & sad for no reason


he clings to his family’s rough-fitting care

“jawbone of an ass,” “the free riders”


now sleep, deathless gals, in the sun

“see you in the funny papers, my friend”


“welcome to Alcoholics Unanimous”

I’m standing in the river


we are always interrupted

orphaned lines in the net


“crumbs are going in my boob” “that’s hot”

band name: “The Blue Jobs”