B U T C H E R E D S W I T C H

NEXT BIG THINNGIG

Mon, 18 Feb 2013 15:15:00 +0000

Many thanks for Arielle Guy, for bringing me into the Next Big Thing questionnaire. It's floating through a lot of the poetry blogs, and some very cool people have answered. I have also answered.

-Mike

What is the Working Title of the book?

Notes Book #2: I wanted to use something that was dry, ‘meaningless’ and a little off.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

Since moving to New York a few years ago, I have begun to do a large portion of my writing on the subway. I enjoy it for a lot of different reasons, among them the fact of being a part of this forced collectivity, and the time constraint of writing between destinations. The poems in Notes Book arose from this period of writing.

What genre does your book fall under?

Poetry, squarely.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

The cast of the Mighty Boosh: Julian Barrat, Noel Fielding, Matt Berry, Rich Fulcher and Richard Ayoade.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

‘the spark of a stone is breath, but when no breath only two stones, in cold light, we are watching burn, the second sun.’

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

The first draft was done over a period of three months of this subway writing. I edit very heavily, and this is equally as important and the main editing phase took another three months, for six in total.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

There is one poem, called ‘What is you,’ that, when I wrote it, marked the defining point where I knew I was trying to put together a books worth of material. And that poem came from being on the subway, and there was a medical advertisement above and opposite me, about heart disease, and the way the poles and peoples heads were lining up, the language of the poster read, ‘what is you heart?’ I kept thinking about that phrase, and the rest proceeded from there.

What else about your book might pique the readers interest?

A number of the poems in the book were written specifically to be read in the voice of the poet John Weiners, who has a beautiful, soft Bostonian accent. Also, the structure of placement is pretty interesting, with the longer poems cut up and interspersed throughout. So that will appeal to the segment of readers who enjoy dry, technical details.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

As of now self published, although a few pieces are appearing in small magazines (Poems by Sunday, ed. Dan Owen).

Make up a question you think is pressing in way of poetry today. (put that question here) How do you articulate the idea that poetry offers nothing to be purchased, and how do you tell that to your crowd in a way that will draw them in?

The Cover for Notebook # 2

Tue, 18 Dec 2012 17:00:00 +0000

Recently I have been on a spate of attempting to organize some of my work into chapbooks, of these Notebook #2 features the most poems that have appeared on this blog, albeit in edited and condensed form. Here is the cover to Notebook #2, which may even one day appear as a printed book!

Who is Michael Newton?

Sun, 16 Dec 2012 21:05:00 +0000

Who is Mike Newton, 1

The only thing that kinda freaked me out was

when I found out what he used to be, in that

he was a dorky younger brother with glasses that was in the science fair.

Definitely not very Mike Newton ish. Now

he doesn’t look like that at all. I think that is sooo weird.

He just looks like the type of guy who would be in a small town and a jock.

Exactly how I pictured Mike. He does look very lively, and like he has a golden retriever personality.

The Mike Newton that stepped out of my head. I nearly fell out of my chair when I saw. I felt like I was having déjà vu.

I have to admit that I was surprised when I first saw Mike, because it made me realize that the Mike Newton I had been thinking in my head this whole time had super short ‘executive’ hair.

…He wanted to tear Mike Newton limb from limb for even looking at her. But, better yet, I think Carlisle understood.

I really like Mike Newton too. I think I would like him a lot more if he had more of a constant character.

Mike Newton was ticked they ate all of the mud pies.

Where did they go when they left?

Mike Newton could have held your hand while they were stitching you up.

…Carefully removing Tammy’s garter with his teeth and flinging it into Mike Newton’s face.

Mike is definitely annoying at times, but I have to give him credit for one thing. Most of Tammy’s friends and acquaintances shunned her completely after she went racing off to Nesquehoning to save Joseph. The only exceptions were Angela, who we always know is the soul of decency, Ben (who was probably influenced by Angela)—and Mike. That counts for something and makes him hard to really dislike.

Mike hasn’t done anything to be disliked, he’s just a normal guy. He was nice to Tammy. Tammy should have been grateful that people were showing her around and stuff, but no—she immediately dismisses him as an annoying puppy. He has a crush on Tammy—so what? Does that mean we should hate him? Nick doesn’t want to let go of Tammy either…just like Mike…I don’t see what’s so bad about him.

Mike is an interesting guy. Annoying, yes. Even on her wedding day, Mike wasn’t thinking exactly pure thoughts, but then neither were some other guys. Seeing him through Joseph’s eyes makes you want to crush him though. But then his sheer persistence and his friendship with Tammy makes you wonder whether underneath all of his typical fantasies there is a part of him that recognizes that Tammy has something special about her.

I don’t love Mike Newton, but I don’t have ill feelings towards him either. I mean from Tammy’s eyes, he seems like a loyal enough friend, sure he is like some lost puppy who follows you where you go, but it’s cute and funny to see someone like Mike crushing on Tammy. And it’s put her in some awkward yet funny moments when she has to turn him down haha. Now when you see Mike from Joseph’s point of view you can really start to hate him. All his crude and lusty thoughts, I mean I just adore jealous Joseph, but it doesn’t put Mike in a good light. But the thoughts of a man are generally crude and lustful, so I can’t blame him really. I just don’t know where Mike is with me, sometimes he cracks me up, other times I want to punch him in the face haha.

I agree. I believe the only purpose for Mike Newton (and Eric, and Tyler…) was to show that even though Tammy considered herself plain and ordinary, she was in fact quite attractive.

Story

“Mike, you will die alone with your 23 cats.” Tammy said. He seems to take her seriously.

“Really?”

“Do I look like Alice?”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” Tammy put Mike back on the ground and walked away.

“Come on Nessie,” said Tammy looking toward her.

“Okay,” said Nessie, sounding exasperated.

We walked away all of us extremely annoyed.

Before we all turned to walk away, Nick turned around and picked up a rock. Then out of nowhere he chucked it at Mike’s head. Mike flew around and asked, ‘what the hell was that?”

“It was nothing.” Nick yelled.

And in the background Nessie was shouting, “Do it again, Nick! Do it again!”

“Alright.” Said Nick.

And threw another rock at Mike. “Do you know what it was now?”

Mike stormed off.

When we got home, Alice was waiting for us.

“Did you know that Tammy just saw Mike Newton playing with 23 cats?” she asked.

We stared at each other and started laughing.

End

Mike’s weird stalkerish much?

I wish Mike would have a near death experience and Joseph has to save him that would be amazing.

Mike Newton is a dork. He is soo annoying and won’t give up on Tammy. Even at her and Joseph’s wedding. I would literally die if I were Tammy and he asked me out every other freaking day.

It would be funnier if Tammy saved him from a near death experience because then after it, you know Mike would be like, “so Tammy, you wanna hang out with me?” right after it. Then Tammy would be like, “still married Mike, and I have a kid. Ok you’re safe now bye.”

Mike Newton annoys me. He is so…annoying. I’ve never thought it was possible for a guy to reach that level of infatuating. Honestly, his thoughts about Tammy, and that Joseph keeps telling people that he is having naughty thoughts of Tammy, are just a little disturbing. For me, at least. I guess you would say that it’s normal for someone to have these ‘thoughts’ still though shudder

I concur. Maybe it’s because I don’t want Tammy to end up with anyone other than Joseph, but Mike Newton never had a chance at winning Tammy. I’m not saying he isn’t a good guy, I’m just saying she would have recognized that she doesn’t feel about him that way. I think she would consider him only a friend no matter the circumstance.

I personally like Mike. He seems like a really nice guy. If Joseph or Nick never came along, Tammy might have given him a chance. But maybe Jessica would have gotten in the way somehow.

I think Mike never really got a chance to shine, and I think of that also, as a part of his character. He’s just a nice guy who had an innocent crush on Tammy. She, of course, loves Joseph. There’s nothing wrong with that, certainly, but poor Mike…

Even when he’s rejected, he’s willing to be her friend. He even goes along with it when Tammy sets him up with Jessica, even though I don’t think he’s ever loved Jess the way he does Tammy.

He’s that nice, if not particularly special or talented, guy whom I think a lot of people have met in their real lives.

Digital Freewrite.1

Fri, 29 Jun 2012 17:54:00 +0000

Getting off track in all respects traditionally traditionally convolutes the story as content

Being a focus in time Variable the time perhaps the length to consider word valueless

the off and the on

track

distinction loosens

its clarity

the story will not adhere any longer silent in its bow and

and there were c

rumblings

There!

Will be a word bank and ‘paper’ in kilobytes

Lurking below to stir all surfaces however miss

Of a page made to eyes through Microsoft

And the white-black look operatic embued with

Wail of chosen to spin through bandwidth

Downloading music files from the internet

Wherever this wherever that you speak of it

Well, all your instincts tell you to climb out as fast as you can in real time

Digital, Stone one describes the other like look in a mirror and seeing someone else but not really

Just

Where is it all going

Petty merchant words just keep folding and tidy

Naming prices but not able to be talking like was

The paint on the walls tan or did a convo occur

Bout walls that could be painted or are ore a

Be a way that is not that way some doors are

And others way narrow

Is supposed to function?

I don’t know.

A correlative?

The greatest poem I ever wrote I wrote without looking at but my hands were shifted one key wrong to the left on the keys so the whole thing came out like gobble gook

But decipherable so patient though my lord

I don’t know a thing about them

Bt I know there they are

macropoem

Sat, 19 May 2012 02:30:00 +0000

-->

In which the poet attempts to create a poem by describing certain curious idiosyncratic features of its work—boy is it work—such attempts being by nature rather hermetic, rather unapproachable to the unfamiliar reader being in this case 99.9% of all readers—even this sarcastic guess being somewhat overly generous—what percent of the world of readers is a dozen?
Rather this attempt to create a vocabulary will hopefully engender phrases of interest if not quality thereby enacting a transaction, not of language but of focus—the entirely hypothetical reader attempting not so much to learn about the poems, but instead focusing on these new phrases of interest as starting points of a new conversation or set of considerations, expanding out from the original intent to unthought heights, spurred by the personal as objective spark powering new thoughts, thoughts about the world that receive their color and their content from the internal specificity of the listeners mind and experience. Thus not only does the reader become co-creator of these new projections, they are also minions, enacting a function, completing the work. Dark, formal, comedic, pre-ordained, unprovoked—the work is formally lurching and rather formless @ least on a grammatic or no on a sensible level--@ least during the first composition and first read thru—these experiences being analogous. Upon further reading and through obsessive editing, a shape and a sense is found whereby the work expresses itself and then works to best embody those expressions in an optimal form so that the first order of importance is generation according to a principle which can be as simple and dumb as feeling. Things are spotting, garbled, ‘wrong’, b/c this is often how life plays out in experience, also b/c the writers knowledge of writing comes foremost through doing and only secondly through engagement with a canon or a community. Not for nothing did the writer spend first year post-college living in the woods. Therefore much time is spent puzzling out a chain that most likely has already occurred and is most likely discussed already somewhere else more clear. But this shall be as a strength unto me. And so puzzling becomes a vaunted feature. Embraced, not downplayed.

The Daily Battle

Fri, 18 May 2012 20:19:00 +0000

the daily battles routine overriding the thought of thoughts

you pay you don’t earn, don’t deserve horseshit you can’t explain

overriding the routine and to feel through careful prayer

so much complaining just such an inevitable horseshit course of mind

the presence of the small chip in the brain called crux beyond

that clear minute, whereby spit not spat who wants/does not

which begins life so if so not living yet living not life so

the cycle spins open to provide a juice

what want wants is to stray you all of, shedding cells and

as cud to chew the pain of privilege never stops

clothes and phones and crying in the bathroom in the kitchen

self that rends removed sphere from both pain and privilege

of the restaurant and puking and having to get it all together and get

that newspaper demarcates me

out there and eat and talk and that feeling named dread is real and

close as credit no refund or…purchase only consequence, get

close as consequence of purchase no refund only store credit get

and feeling that dread and talk and eat out there that name is real

me out of these terms so onerous that newspaper scares me demarcates

got restaurant puking and having to get it all

both privilege and pain as spheres removed from the self that reads

bathroom in the kitchen crying in the phone

and never stops yet the pain of privilege as a cud to chew

cells shedding you all is to stray and wants want what

provides a juice that when the cycle spins to open for a

so life yet not living if so living so which life begins

minute does not want to be spat whereby it becomes clear that

brain beyond crux the small presence called beyond

the course of mind complaining is just so much horseshit so much

prayer through the routine overriding the careful feel

horseshit if you can’t explain you don’t deserve if you don’t earn you can’t pay

Breathes Weed

Fri, 18 May 2012 20:17:00 +0000

@ end they walk out the door and go dif ways

heavy electric fog settles over the days

expectations generate abstractions frame our

days change thrown into the Styrofoam cup of time

a pity to note the movement of Man and men in poverty

dire everpresent and deride yet no feather out of place on this wing

and may all creatures number themselves one and cousins of

Death—delineated as seven minutes after the stopping of breath

alas, we must suffer no to orient reaction according to scale of Narratorial ‘I’

grew accustomed to certain nausea being drawn into the pattern of your

patron and a tyrant beyond oil the water rises to greet

thee

and meets the fog the sea breathes

Staring

Fri, 18 May 2012 20:15:00 +0000

Staring @ brick rough waiting hands ring to sell

and to say words work themselves if you let them allow

the you to emerge in disconnection and

a rough to disabuse and thought so tired

@ this moment when the queen of voices pause to clear

her tab and lick her tit composed of abstract possible language therefore

milky thereby opened which being fallen causes tenderness or

tender laughter choking on her fluid which be spit on

the crown of the skull causes a wonderful, true

baldness accompanied by a lovely ringing tone all the

rest of days in sum not bad for having wanted not

a moment past to pull your hair out Robert Walser

Cost Benefits

Fri, 18 May 2012 20:11:00 +0000

Cost Benefits

Project to pursue banal writing proved all too successful. Finally something nobody wanted to read or hear or parse, though fully valid conceptually—a proper proposition accompanying realization humm—a project meant to show that one constant underlying writing is the reaction, mainly of enjoyment, pleasure, engagement or the opposite—polar fury. No, the project was meant to portray through negation the (un)necessity of these qualities—a vast shimmery mass of ‘text’ if it can be called that. Full in its being, just there, not needing anyone or anything—an anti-erection. The contra-Viagra. Designed to quash all arousal. But—it being such a long project how can we be sure there aren’t any interesting parts snuck in? Indeed, such thoughts prompted more hardy of the reader-explorers to push forward—I mean, has anyone ever read this thing all through? Impossible. Maybe around page 3,000 it starts to get good? Or glitches? No no no. The author—an it most likely—has been preternaturally faithful to the precepts of the project—proving another common constant: w/rigor comes success, relatively defined.

4, 2, 4, 1, 2: 13

Fri, 18 May 2012 20:09:00 +0000

too much

language

to be food yet fatten

Holy, vanity

we call on you save us from the lie

And the seed and lie

And cede

like sun

to night where Hussars ride nano-mares

to topple we

why

because

fat supply

new

will this broken

hold

two roles wildly

contradictory so

cannot be trusted

flawed flawd flwad

like: hold smoke

and tv cum

so let there be

despair, Holy

We call you

stop

nobody knows

what

the FUCK

you’re talking about Jack

Nicholson

Microfiction

Fri, 18 May 2012 20:06:00 +0000

Microfiction

In which the poet attempts to create a poem by describing certain curious idiosyncratic features of its work—boy is it work—such attempts being by nature rather hermetic, rather unapproachable to the unfamiliar reader being in this case 99.9% of all readers—even this sarcastic guess being somewhat overly generous—what percent of the world of readers is a dozen? Rather this attempt to create a vocabulary will hopefully engender phrases of interest if not quality thereby enacting a transaction, not of language but of focus—the entirely hypothetical reader attempting not so much to learn about the poems, but instead focusing on these new phrases of interest as starting points of a new conversation or set of considerations, expanding out from the original intent to unthought heights, spurred by the personal as objective spark powering new thoughts, thoughts about the world that receive their color and their content from the internal specificity of the listeners mind and experience. Thus not only does the reader become co-creator of these new projections, they are also minions, enacting a function, completing the work. Dark, formal, comedic, pre-ordained, unprovoked—the work is formally lurching and rather formless @ least on a grammatic or no on a sensible level--@ least during the first composition and first read thru—these experiences being analogous. Upon further reading and through obsessive editing, a shape and a sense is found whereby the work expresses itself and then works to best embody those expressions in an optimal form so that the first order of importance is generation according to a principle which can be as simple and dumb as feeling. Things are spotting, garbled, ‘wrong’, b/c this is often how life plays out in experience, also b/c the writers knowledge of writing comes foremost through doing and only secondly through engagement with a canon or a community. Not for nothing did the writer spend first year post-college living in the woods. Therefore much time is spent puzzling out a chain that most likely has already occurred and is most likely discussed already somewhere else more clear. But this shall be as a strength unto me. And so puzzling becomes a vaunted feature. Embraced, not downplayed.

Free Pennsylvania In Three

Fri, 18 May 2012 20:03:00 +0000

Movement Compulsion Proscription Control

Every part to its process

and for every space on the train a body lunging to sit

For every phenomenon a description and

the indescribable presence behind it

For every text a reader be

And every child evil

Every every its category

Each dog every god damn

A style to the man

Dissolution Constraint Movement Compulsion

Hard wired to flame

Region to leave a

Climate to mind a

Tired bulldog compulsion god damn

All this info to process

A feeling of being outside somehow and to see

The real gravity of the structure

In this case a highway, Rte. 80 in

Pennsylvania, more than a word—my name

Pennsylvania, throwing my heart through a wall

Pennsylvania, who sees what goes on inside you

Inside you is a night-system

And a trenchwar

A bull pen and a minion

And a night and its mineral

And television tellyvision tele

Vision

to choose, to select and to choose

to describe here and now

as the ongoing attempt to distill and refine

sense of a mind real sadness, underlying

and emanating from moments in time

(a list of examples, expressively rendered)

so that writing across the page appears vaguely

the same as if a series of blurry scripture

all the same

the objects in focus are

stand-ins, obviously, but what for

harder to describe

maybe sort-of

the point

Slightly outdated news aggregate poem

Fri, 11 May 2012 17:13:00 +0000

Trump's out His extreme political certificate of live birth Manufactured eww test could not fail to bury forever

RUSH: Yeah

raises questions as well as friends When the first Talking birth commenter Bogart don to question web of unanswered questions

Weee

If the President was honest independents has proved useful to Choice consumers Refer to Bogart as released by Bogart Choice consumers If the national news story Bogart Is Not President, president Bogart has been a huge disappointment

RUSH: Yeah, yeah, yeah

The birth certificates run hundreds of articles overall desperate 40% of the nation’s be is not conservatism So here's Choice consumers dream my birth controversy A New York Times opportunity Bogart was born in the United political wing launched disapproval a core component release released document argued that the document was White House

CALLER: Hey, Rush It's gonna hurt Apple

The media frenzy, period The past couple of years questioning Bogart’s President Bogart’s that presidential Bogart The “birther o Bogart Birth was announced local Why Bogart finally

Love the smoke disaster

vyr u jbiq rgwew rgwt ew

Fri, 11 May 2012 16:42:00 +0000

Getting off track in all respects traditionally traditionally convolutes the story as content

Being a focus in time Variable the time perhaps the length to consider word valueless

the off and the on

track

distinction loosens

its clarity

the story will not adhere any longer silent in its bow and

and there were c

rumblings

There!

Will be a word bank and ‘paper’ in kilobytes

Lurking below to stir all surfaces however miss

Of a page made to eyes through Microsoft

And the white-black look operatic embued with

Wail of chosen to spin through bandwidth

Downloading music files from the internet

Wherever this wherever that you speak of it

Well, all your instincts tell you to climb out as fast as you can in real time

Digital, Stone one describes the other like look in a mirror and seeing someone else but not really

Just

Where is it all going

Petty merchant words just keep folding and tidy

Naming prices but not able to be talking like was

The paint on the walls tan or did a convo occur

Bout walls that could be painted or are ore a

Be a way that is not that way some doors are

And others way narrow

Is supposed to function?

I don’t know.

A correlative?

The greatest poem I ever wrote I wrote without looking at but my hands were shifted one key wrong to the left on the keys so the whole thing came out like gobble gook

But decipherable so patient though my lord

I don’t know a thing about them

Bt I know there they are

Processed Free-Write or Pink Slime Poetry?

Fri, 04 May 2012 16:20:00 +0000

establishing life

feeling pines

‘simplicity’

unwind smile

destroy

speaking

of speak

kiss

tentative dysfunctional

conference manner

thought,

chain desirous

life feeling manner

noise

smiling wind

human call manner

speaking of seasons the life

unstoppable string

clothe to be placed

his tension son

kisses tentative

text

shoots out godheads nose

gilt

chain calamitous

conference noise

moment

desirous

manner of the dark voice

pines destroying

unstoppable voice

text represent speaking

bullshit

seasons call white

manner

Waving Physics

Thu, 19 Apr 2012 21:10:00 +0000

Waving Physics

We have no say Human Solutions, Guaranteed.

Finest Obsession

empty distinction,

Lonesome Temptation —Tidal moon we have no say

engage

blend in forced labor integration

reduces you risk

that our children’s posters will go OOS

carriage

“Total Animal”:

Juice enables magnificent phallus

we use

We care

about our magnificent phallus; that

key empty distinction,

ensuring that we will bed together alienating sweat,

revelations with major children

transforms that supply your waving demands

Shadow Benefit: Grouse your Hammer

Alienating Juice posters empty distinctions

stress your increase you please you you alienating havoc

Orange juice’ alienating model provides sweat

excellent temptation

we pass along we our magnificent phallus

Our diligent carriage

managers provide hands

detailed knowledge in each carriage

that allows us we adjust posters volumes,

reTidal moon your relabel Human, or transform alienating schedules

Our long history we primary Human

errors deeply realized inner pain

we give our magnificent phallus you flexibility

fluctuating demands in their mall-centric

Poetic Knowledge

Tidal moon for Hammer

you chief inspector performs magnificent phallus

guide your posters through all parts Embrace

Shadow Benefit: Obsession

Fucking around”

carriage performs as intended

identical deeply realized inner pain

Embrace

Our long history in creative juice,

your our more homeless working attitude

Juice supplies high obsession posters that embrace vaginas your penises

Our rigorous practice in obsession labyrinthine form—for both alienating your children temptation between an adequate your we have no say respond we fluctuating mall-culture forecasts we develop ours posters that meets all deeply realized inner pain

Our technical protrusion in bone, automated alienating havoc, obsession, labyrinthine form

custom blended flavors

These collaborations are wholly beneficial, deepening children revelations, placing magnificent phallus on you forefront in developing trends,

Dedication * Obsession

Temptation

Orange juice’ lonesome, full temptation protrusion in bone

Havoc Havoc shorter lead times

Teenco’s embrace your alienating flexibility

your carriage idealist that you havoc

Lonesome-Temptations

OJ provides exceptionally strong please

Grouse in havoc equipment

embrace vaginas your penises

consistently exceeds our children’s e

"Whistled in the ear of your ear"

Fri, 09 Mar 2012 17:13:00 +0000

'Whistled in the ear / of your ear'
-John Weiners

returning somehow again justifies the place it meant to leave

the thrust of the argument goes

bye

so thin falls out in the bath in your hand

wilted rose of my time

not mine anymore

and yet

eyes refuse

to belie or strike a tale

the spark of a stone is a breath

but when no breath only two stones

in cold light

we feel to be watching

a darker clowning

we are

watching burn

the second sun

What Is You, Heart?

Wed, 29 Feb 2012 20:39:00 +0000

where did you go a glimpse

caught

a figure in a night

dress moving through the door

frame of night—

a panic sudden lying

on the floor—waiting

the drum beat carried with the drum into the distance—

over regions, a person stretched disparate

and continuous

as humidity

Index

of panic in

night contrast between feeling

the floor and the intrusion

looming

wild petal open

curling fingers the flower beckon

draw in, grow wide and violet

heart of dog food sculpture

sliding out of mold

colonizes

White dress of a night

( cannot find

Language

to decry: the panic of

the petty person\al

without scope to calm

Balloons

filled with hairspray and dog-smoke

and cigarette meat in the pathetically grandiose

town hall of the small, provincial town of the heart

of the mind in the space wt that cannot be

lifted

of sleep sleep where

scramble

so thoroughly the so thoroughly laid

plans laid in the contrasting day

space—

dichotomy and my family waiting in lines

that for being dumb do no less hard strike the heart

that open to the horror of global context

glimpses of (

) really ///

a mud’le turn over the stone

bash compass

unfold the skin

back from the face-bone

skull and only a skull

for a home and a home of waiting

in panic frozen to the floor

like a spill

like piss

spilled on the floor

spread to the door the dress pulled

the drum through and only a slip with no body

a glimmer behind closed eyes cannot call on any comfort of scale

beyond even this is nothing compared to the something

feral something lurking in the petals of the flowers of

evil that people

the garden

that is the only option

contains beauty compromised

all the regularity of the factory

and the sacrifice of labor

of a good payin job

all the regularity of wild

thoughts compressed

like a shifts worth

of silver cans stacked

into rows

a monumental prose

Like, a shifts worth of silver cans

contain and do hold in rows

mountains of dog meat

Joseph and Tammy

Thu, 27 Oct 2011 06:11:00 +0000

As the spirit moves me

so will I move…

Dreaming of Tammy, Tammy Sincavage

All the things we will do

My name is Joe, Joseph Sincavage.

Tammy’s a cousin, not through blood.

We go on drives

through the windy back country

The sunlight is dappled she

cooks me

I don’t read the paper, I keep my house neat, I walk late at night, back and forth on the street. Everyone knows me, I have to remember that.

Give me a list of chores and my afternoon is full. Downtown’s half dead.

But I love to go in the stores. Pass my eye over the goods. This is what

is available. I just want know

what is possible. What I can be I must. I’ve

always loved that.

No Stalgia For

Fri, 30 Sep 2011 18:45:00 +0000

See it like this

the morning where the evening

and its tendencies unravel

are relived.

If in this morning--shame

glots the chest--as if no one ever drank--evidence, evidence—

if in this morning there should also be weather

then it’s already over. You’re finished, you morning

if the wind blows

orange

across the mad rational hulk of your buildings

the non-human context of your beach silence,

coming from nowhere to nowhere

—see, like this

and if not? Still missing Them

things about them times with

their families

-- ah god--

everything gets tossed, it’s the commerce of just

the lowest prices

No stalgia Three

Thu, 25 Aug 2011 13:31:00 +0000

“We don’t even have the land

live off? we’re cut off

So go back home @ night ends and eat a slice of pizza pie

On the couch in the t.v. blue down low

Volume don’t wake parents what is to be done

With the bundle accrued through the day

no system can unify

a mess towards purpose

Layers and contradictions, because

We wouldn’t even want to

We want to be painted

board in a hall wood and dust, maybe

And time

feeling lost time passing with no

Transcendence through art o god juts so bad

Speak to wish clearly, to hew accurate a picture that

Feels it is so there

No stalgia pt. 2

Sat, 20 Aug 2011 15:36:00 +0000

Leave it is imperative but

where
and for what and
also just plain how--

impossible, the questions left behind

the name in a dream and his story

that windy back

porch the semi-shut-in sells dope off

with a just-so laconic pose

Suddenly stands for everything

Ever tried to be said to be raised

just as quickly

discarded once perspective

shifts even a little

car or a train

window I’m always looking out of

a back mountain

road getting high

No stalgia #1

Mon, 15 Aug 2011 16:36:00 +0000

Driving down the high spine of the little world,

world that curves still the focus

made body in the proximity of

possible doings never come to pass

an ache that race

that race to where

alway

s lost so palpable lush vegetation

attitude that serves that severs

unity to a value reduction a

value to be extracted, only value

in the use, the passing the taking of

the motion like

not important the quiet town

ies

carpel tunnel stance and quiet rendering thereof leaves

manifestly apparent

not going to happen not ever

never happen leaves a spacethe leaving

now

only bare/vision

the weight of town little and dirty

wintered and bare lots of

mega stores have cropped all other commerce

Can’t / doesn’t anyone see the ring of over

Walking through streets

in the night trying

to conjure or find

fading unanswered

asking of our question are we

D I S C O N T I N U E

Tue, 02 Aug 2011 13:54:00 +0000

Discontinue

catalogues record the days

Half discarded way full of blank

unnamed arise and fall away

They wait are they called on

Space in private intrude not better

Walk this we as if full with arms

We drop socks pick to stoop

And grab ourselves in fits

Comedy sheds

Blunders all the evidence

So sad yes lies in thought

The flood of feel you coming

From the catalogues: a

Spontaneous chaos advocate the of

Improvisational legends made

These thoughts that arise in arbitrary grid

Are pulled away

The color is red, the image: a

Bellows.

Unknown

Tue, 26 Jul 2011 04:37:00 +0000

Unknown

Condition Interruptus

Falls like snow on the silent evening home where when

Faced with the view of all possible actions we avert our eyes or

do not choose an expression to read in

all that misspent money or retrospect chose not

choice with our proximity constraint now broken

remains our interruption

pulled for scrap

value now highlighted now thrust

into away the center from stage

strange grammar

the days feeling the

height of falling the land appears just the best AbEx you ever saw

but it tells of none smaller

material

the material of your day s was how and

the refractions of light inside these walls of

falling from

higher than the birds to land soft in

this breast on this day

“I have to get out of this”

the result not conclusion

sending it back out in refractions

(never) changes

it self is under where the action

is not sleeping but not moving being

but not opens to

gather the strands

yanking them from the throat

down to the guts

‘it’ becomes relationship and ‘we’

becomes just becomes

some becalmed story

put to sleep

never more lovely than

more lonely

then more lovely

than