okay, vacuum

my gulley brain
kitten disposal unit
frees prisoners
of the body aluminum
who continue to assassinate
omnipresent beds

could no employees of the pentagon
accept creepy weakness
including the divers

despite personal nihilists
panel snatch attic search
still unloads the bomb
but surface toilets
only attract assmonkies

get the pickaxe
for stainless codes
or top donkies
& protect yourself
from the comforting machine

tabled eyeliner
of daily monitoring
expresses deliverance
or at least eye sustenance
my hero extension

out here
there is
possible air
okay, vacuum

rumsfeld assmonkey mosaic three

head of common accounts
rejects bomb
& biological patient
threats of liberal
crazy water
birdmad heart of atom
of moonbat
official technique
interrogation
conformists
simultaneous neutron
explosions
bomb not entered

rumsfeld assmonkey mosaic two

concept of the eye
tables of law
mosaic soldiers
unethical techniques
expressed soldiers
insults that ask
its sentence makes
it voted for assmonkey
of president who
damages collateral

rumsfeld assmonkey mosaic

free prisoners
continue to assassinate
exactly
could no employee of Pentagon
including the diver
despite personal nihilists
unload bombs
one assmonkey
gets pickaxe
for top donkey
& protects themselves
from daily monitoring
of solvency degree

okay vacuum

gulley brain
kitten disposal
body aluminum
omnipresent bed
creepy weakness
panel snatch
attic search
surface toilet
stainless code
comforting machine
tabled eyeliner
express deliverance
eye sustenance
hero extension
possible air
okay vacuum

poetry through the glass partition!

been kicking it w/ maddie my dear, old, college roommate. the other day we wrote a poem together (while driving). here is the original version:


pilot armada

two lane interstate now solid
orange bifocal in brush
herds salivate under ruddy bombs
seeds scatter among rocks
stamp kittens coolly over reptiles
used dead as rafts
stall tricycles for antique replicants
vomit in the driveway
yellow antic wildebeasts
cackle like washing machines


then, on a whim i edited it thusly:


pilot armada

interstate
now solid
orange bifocal
salivate
under ruddy bombs
scatered
among rocks
stamped cooly
dead as rafts
or tricycles
for replicants
yellow antic
driveway
cackle
washing machines


don't know how i like it. i plan to run it through the old babel fish & reedit for fun later, maybe cut up & mix with something funny, but mostly enjoying the co-writing (which always comes out wacky, maybe?).

now dear maddie's making dinner (a kind thing out here in montana for an interloper such as me) & we will relax w/ the crickets or whatever.

i'm sad tho, i can't read amelia's blog right now. all i see is a blank page! has it died? say it ain't so amelia! that wd be too sad for words!

but dinner is steaming & we have another poem to write!

ALICE BLUE FOUR

S H A Z A A M

all up in yr grill!

the big sleep unslept or something

Hello Gleasonites!

This is a short hello & good bye. I have abandoned my home in Houston in search of better digs, better people, & more money. I have loaded all of my flammable furniture into one big truck & hit the road. I have dissolved job & lease, etc... In short, I am a free agent.

West coast here I come! (Probably Portland, OR, because I like foggy hippy towns...but who knows? America waits!)

Ward

adjacent 8

insurgents
your clocks are
the constant threat
warp scenario glove
despite force
drunk pendulum
that agents
describe now
as biggest danger
aerospace daisy
of new government
squid destruction
hovering
under eyes
indecent fisherman
in main attempt
fall breakfast distribution
are struck
one in
the obligation
soldiers have said
but certain soldiers
in his streets
are gnarled
cyclops generation

my triumphant return

I have been in Pittsburgh. Sorry.

I've recently been reading over at Amelia's & noticed that she's been weighing in on Spicer & bookburning. This is not to say that Jack Spicer's been burning books, or that people are burning Jack Spicer's books (they'd have to find them somewhere first, & after spending fifty bucks on his collected books I'm not offering mine), but that people are burning books & Amelia's reading the good ol' Spicer biography.

First off, bookburning is senseless & any argument for or against is senseless, whether in jest or not. No object is sacred. Immolation is nothing more than burning, a process, or "rather, it is an exothermic chemical reaction accompanied by intense heat released during a rapid oxidation of combustible material. Fire may be visible as the brilliant glow and flames and may produce smoke" (wikipedia, here). Arguing that the immolation of a text renders the said text sacred, is similar to arguing that death in the name of god is somehow more sacred or more more. Fire is fire. Death is death. One cannot distinguish between ashes as one cannot distinguish between corpes, & why would one bother, other than through some sentiment for the book/person.

That aside, Jack Spicer is not rapidly oxidizing. Instead, he is my poetic hero of the moment (falling somewhere around Frank O'Hara, Lisa Jarnot, Alice Notely, & Ted Berrigan, in the Ward's poet hero of the week sweepstakes). I read his biography & though it was mostly rumor & innuendo, & it seemed to make him out to be an A1 jackass, I still hold him up on my hero pedastal (on my kitchen counter). I'm beginning to write more poems in series, & enjoying that more, freed, I suppose, from the drive for some kind of singular perfection.

I'm listenting to Slint now, while I type, & thinking about will reading Zukofsky all of sudden, & about, I suppose, to become a regular poetry blowhard, an outsider academic, or, gasp!, an MFA student. Don't do it will! You can't handle it anyway.

paradelle

love is a complicated multi-turret system
love is a complicated multi-turret system
i'm sugar coated & there is a pistol
i'm sugar coated & there is a pistol
a multi-turret pistol is sugar coated
& i'm there, a system, complicated is love

you're my pert devastation
you're my pert devastation
but lamination can only save the faithful
but lamination can only save the faithful
only my pert lamination can save
you're devastation the faithful but

that's a lot of ammunition, i say as i stoop into my plot
that's a lot of ammunition, i say as i stoop into my plot
i will wrap them as gifts but not cruelly
i will wrap them as gifts but not cruelly
i plot ammunition as gifts a lot, but that's, as i say
stoop not cruelly, i will of them into my wrap

my pistol is complicated devastation
but you're only a multi-turret that's
love is a system can save gifts
but cruelly i'm sugar coated lot & a lamination
i stoop of ammunition into the faithful
i will say wrap them there as pert i, not as my plot

fresh air redux: i look like a quarry someone has dynamited!

3

summer in the alleyways! "it is time to strangle several bad poets."
the yellow cab rocks to and fro, and from the roof
drops charles bronson! the stylish thugs are slightly agitated by the struggle,
but afterwards, beside the dead "poet" they cuddle comfortingly against their ipods.
they are safer now, no one will compare them to a poetic device.

here on the bus, one more time, is charles bronson.
he is going to get that one on his way to a poetry reading.
ouch! smack! a body crumples between stops.

in the "dive bar" i also see charles bronson,
he leaps through the chill air at the maker of comparisons
between language and life and silently, silently strangles him!

here is charles bronson dressed as a loan shark
leaping from his cadillac to annihilate the students of linguistics!

charles bronson is alert for academic maunderings like "otherness",
"ambiguity", "narrative antagonism", and "avant garde",
and for poems addressed to ron silliman, billy collins,
to charles bernstein, and to personages no longer living
even in anyone's thoughts—o charles bronson the charles bronson!

he lies on his back in with a pistol he snatched from a thug.

fed & right
of stadium
can scour
are sign unbendable
taste lawn
sequence
of tendering
pails rent sample
fountain of mice
is uninformed
& nixed
conceal bravo
handy organs
sized as walls
of risk &
reticent to remind
or vexed
in matron of curfew
bin failures
spaced apart
in a medium
puncture
of ornithologist bent
no such apparatus
minding only
need to fight

alice blue three arrives

with new work by daniel borzutzky, derek white, kate pringle, tao lin, kari edwards, bob marcacci, nick antosca, sean kilpatrick, & others.

read it all here

lyric lime

i'm listening to the sea a seashell sea
i'm sugar coated & there is a pistol
in that black case
never try to liquefy jesters with a spaniard
your penal colony functions only in ambient galactic
the dragonfly of woe couldn't speak
& the hills of my disobedience
only temper glass
do not promote desire
that length after dark
when i enchant your teleport bracelet
in the morning like inferior porcupines
i am too rain sensitive to react
lime of night mumbling
i will juice you yet

O wars & sea recovery
Up prototype! you simple ones
Oar lack of bundling occurs
Hack it was a boar head
& she was thanked & pitied
I am flapping conjecture
Your fifth encounter with forward motion
& stone propeller’s fall
& save my new driving gloves

i love commercials

the poem is a commercial

i am post-surgery

& line free

you know what the stewardess really means?

go back

w/ the peasants

all you got to do is think refreshment

& the paper blob is coming

but i was fat

& i am here

your personal broker

lovely & loved & for you

Five Movie Reviews

The Triple Fool

In this gritty, suburban crime drama, the parents of a mentally defective boy build a chicken-wire cage in their garage, glue feathers to their son, tattoo the words “chicken boy” on his forehead, and charge admission to a motley collection of customers, hoping the freak that is their son will propel them toward a rich and prosperous future. Sam Hill, a mentally defective detective who has nightmares of a similarly caged childhood, brings the parents down, then exterminates them in an exciting 132-minute shoot-out finale.




Danish Memorabilia

The owner of an East-Hamburg curio shop passes off American Happy Meal toys as the titled “Danish Memorabilia” until the “Mad Dane” parachutes in, bent on ending the “cultural misrepresentation” in a flurry of knives, typewriters, and stylish furniture.




Brunette Doll

Charles Bronson goes undercover as a famous Texan stripper to expose the erotic underside of an illegal international fur trade. Bronson may no longer have a “Death Wish,” but he still dazzles in this sexy, high-heeled adventure.




Marsha in Constant Revision

In this avant-garde thriller, writer/director Francois Jones revises the opening scene (a montage of three men eating hot-dogs and repeatedly vandalizing a public restroom) thirty-two times, with director and actor commentaries explicating the symbolic, archetypal, and stylistic qualities of each version, along with exhilarating forays into the history of mustard, catsup, pickles, and the trough-urinal.




Canoe the Motor

An internet/goth-poetry comedy with fine art direction and makeup that will make you embrace of the pain of a generation while cackling hysterically and searching through various catalogues for the perfect lacy corset.