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