new moon free write
jesus the cat antique store opened yesterday for a few brief yellow moments yellow curtain. yellow starshine.
a delivery dose of yellow patience and dance machinery upon the tune to i dont know dont care
my mind a sliver of violet flame
and lavender rose quartz
we have in corner number one, all the mistakes youve ever held
a bird too tight in your hands
and in the corner to your left, a problem of sight
held in palm to the sun
the only move you need
a simple triangle
two fingers two thumbs
dear one know that i see that you are suffering and
i am here for you
so far away
a finger turned in the squishy jam of the center of your chest
that bone i press my lips up to
when you are asleep
so far away
a point in the furthest pocket
in the middle of my chest
which is marked
by the inverse distance to your heart
and i love you
stranger.
sorry bunny
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Monday, March 23, 2015
tetrahedron
writing was never meant to be anything to me
never printed in a page or nothing
thee is one hungry cat if she cant get food she gets the nibs of my wrist
there is writing to be found
there is writing to be found
never printed in a page or nothing
thee is one hungry cat if she cant get food she gets the nibs of my wrist
there is writing to be found
there is writing to be found
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
"do you have cards?"
"stretch the ribbon slapp me"
"do you have cards"
"one half way ribbon rides under side belly screams shouts"
In patience, windows dressing up to go to work. We are one half minute late, we will make up that one half minute by running down the street to the bus stop.
It was just like the story she told, Olguita, she brought it out in the open that smell you give off that tells recently let out patients that you are wounded.
In the sunlight while we wait for the bus to come, the air is dried up, and happiness is pushed out of the spongy manner with which we stand on the corner. When the bus comes we sit down and men look at us to sit next to our seat.
But today is a pretty funny day. Underneath my palms, as of last night's singing ceremoney we squeezed juice out of the last eye ball.
Underneath the seat, any man who sits down will get punctured. will get rimmed.
"do you have cards?"
"are you asleep?"
duction duction
in duction duction
re pro
duction duction
in die gestion gestion
suggestion gestion
gesture
2 hands 2 fingers on my tongue to the wind
two th two two fine strands of hair
two
find these lines
strands of hair
the finer the line the finer the find
mean lady
eats your third eye father's asshole
(in progress)
"stretch the ribbon slapp me"
"do you have cards"
"one half way ribbon rides under side belly screams shouts"
In patience, windows dressing up to go to work. We are one half minute late, we will make up that one half minute by running down the street to the bus stop.
It was just like the story she told, Olguita, she brought it out in the open that smell you give off that tells recently let out patients that you are wounded.
In the sunlight while we wait for the bus to come, the air is dried up, and happiness is pushed out of the spongy manner with which we stand on the corner. When the bus comes we sit down and men look at us to sit next to our seat.
But today is a pretty funny day. Underneath my palms, as of last night's singing ceremoney we squeezed juice out of the last eye ball.
Underneath the seat, any man who sits down will get punctured. will get rimmed.
"do you have cards?"
"are you asleep?"
duction duction
in duction duction
re pro
duction duction
in die gestion gestion
suggestion gestion
gesture
2 hands 2 fingers on my tongue to the wind
two th two two fine strands of hair
two
find these lines
strands of hair
the finer the line the finer the find
mean lady
eats your third eye father's asshole
(in progress)
mr. cat
(words let out from the tired little girl part of some hearts right before their heart got better/bigger again aka ode to robengle/or whoever recently cut me out of their life abruptly aka)
mr. cat
2-21-2015
ipplease
if itnvrr
curred
to me before i started this living
what love means
please delivereeeeeeeeeeee
obsession telling the truth but tells it slant
laying in bed (mother)
the most terrible outcome (money)
losing everything (your shit)
to a child (me)
love means lying about girls
binoculars for bird watching
an open field of wild flowers in spring
Y U S L
happiness in front of denial to YOURSELF
O R E F
thin lacy hidden modest under pants
to a child's love she hoopes what happens when he/she goes to outerspace
the smells of waiting for pizza and Captain America sweat are more the memory
love is obsessively grinding eyeballs
love is realization you are not alone is longing for something you never really wanted
love yells and criticizes
blindly love hides and makes secrets and hides
wears too much make up
is never around
is alone is not around when you talk
is balnk stare into no one where
what love means
turning your back to this miseducation
when one wants to die (one knotted expectation)
and it tugs and pulls you down your skirt screamingMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA
b u t i don't know what love is.
'he stares and with his eyes
catches birds make them pray'
mr. cat
2-21-2015
ipplease
if itnvrr
curred
to me before i started this living
what love means
please delivereeeeeeeeeeee
obsession telling the truth but tells it slant
laying in bed (mother)
the most terrible outcome (money)
losing everything (your shit)
to a child (me)
love means lying about girls
binoculars for bird watching
an open field of wild flowers in spring
Y U S L
happiness in front of denial to YOURSELF
O R E F
thin lacy hidden modest under pants
to a child's love she hoopes what happens when he/she goes to outerspace
the smells of waiting for pizza and Captain America sweat are more the memory
love is obsessively grinding eyeballs
love is realization you are not alone is longing for something you never really wanted
love yells and criticizes
blindly love hides and makes secrets and hides
wears too much make up
is never around
is alone is not around when you talk
is balnk stare into no one where
what love means
turning your back to this miseducation
when one wants to die (one knotted expectation)
and it tugs and pulls you down your skirt screamingMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA
b u t i don't know what love is.
'he stares and with his eyes
catches birds make them pray'
Saturday, February 7, 2015
the most difficult shield observer
is a point
a reference where words fall away an dlose meaning
flesh falls away
obzvoidoid observer serves swerves a platter of diced eggs
THERE IS NO WAY TO FALLL
these hands backwards
like intimate touch my figertips
touch the inner crevices of my palmistry
open
shut open shut
open shut
case by case space is the case is the space is the case is the spacce space
base base
alll words lose meaning
share share share rare
honety honesty honesty honesty
we hand down the ribbons
honestly
the single point observer knows where the nose goes
the single spoint observer sees out from its viewpoint
the single nosed point observer comes out of its ear wick it so thick
oberstserver one two three
oboivoid
me wee
the single point observrer pointing out endlessly neevr thinks to scartch his nose
the nose knows
the point observer become nothign when in the act of abservation
look at me! look at me! look at me!
shake my hands make play do make rinds make cameras
make pinwheels
make ear rhtyms
rhymes
the single point observer through which a lens would be an additiional filter.
knows nothing is NOSEKNOWS NOTHING
is KNOWS FUCKING NOTHING
is KNOWS LITERALLY FUCKING NOTHING
red splats of lipstick nuthin\\\\\\\\\\\
not trying to be anything
nothing
the single point observer disappears though sideways windows in out side of side ways walls in out side of incandescant sprinkles of light that shine in on in on in on in on in oon
a single speck of light
a single point of observation
an eyeball
a formality
a story
the single point observer knows nothing.
knows goes.
is a point
a reference where words fall away an dlose meaning
flesh falls away
obzvoidoid observer serves swerves a platter of diced eggs
THERE IS NO WAY TO FALLL
these hands backwards
like intimate touch my figertips
touch the inner crevices of my palmistry
open
shut open shut
open shut
case by case space is the case is the space is the case is the spacce space
base base
alll words lose meaning
share share share rare
honety honesty honesty honesty
we hand down the ribbons
honestly
the single point observer knows where the nose goes
the single spoint observer sees out from its viewpoint
the single nosed point observer comes out of its ear wick it so thick
oberstserver one two three
oboivoid
me wee
the single point observrer pointing out endlessly neevr thinks to scartch his nose
the nose knows
the point observer become nothign when in the act of abservation
look at me! look at me! look at me!
shake my hands make play do make rinds make cameras
make pinwheels
make ear rhtyms
rhymes
the single point observer through which a lens would be an additiional filter.
knows nothing is NOSEKNOWS NOTHING
is KNOWS FUCKING NOTHING
is KNOWS LITERALLY FUCKING NOTHING
red splats of lipstick nuthin\\\\\\\\\\\
not trying to be anything
nothing
the single point observer disappears though sideways windows in out side of side ways walls in out side of incandescant sprinkles of light that shine in on in on in on in on in oon
a single speck of light
a single point of observation
an eyeball
a formality
a story
the single point observer knows nothing.
knows goes.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
scalpel
injustice scalpel
she picks up the new york times with her broken fingers and her broken pen leaks ink from her broken breast pocket with her broken heart.
she was born with the broken heart, but God made a hinge for her. so it could open and close. it just takes a while to open and it takes a while to close and sometimes it sticks.
sometimes her soles stick to the ground and it results in falling over or jumping up into the sun or just rubbing up against concrete and making holes in her shoes.
usually an ankle goes loose.
heavily weighted on the right side.
a tv car crash burns on electric tele phone wires over head
we wonder why when she enters the train the train stops
it is not working or working
it is not
anything
it disappears
xela solaris is left standing on the empty platform the world she knew underneath her on the floor like some scrap piece of paper with a doodle on it. the doodle you couldn't understand was the entrance to an ex-dimension. well good you through it in the trash. you missed. we all bled.
the sun riseson Xela's left shoulder
the sun rises on her right shoulder.
she looks over her shoulder. still no train. and the rest of the world is alone again. i mean they became separate.
she walks down the tracks. it's a bridge now over destroyed industrial garbage a gentrification haven in the waiting.
there are a few back pockets when this happens. when electricity combines with water and it stops the weather (and all other humans disappear but the animals who live outside of time linger to support). and as she looks at her wrist watch, the reflection of the round glass gathers sunlight just enough to get the train moving again. the passengers return. XelaSolaris out on the platform still and the train leaves right on schedule.
in the flicker of a blink of an eye.
all this change.
she yet, so used to flying, drops a single tear. Because she was almost human enough this time.
her boots are made of purple steel. rings of saturn, her laces. he feet are heavy in snow and light in air. cutting, herslef and others if she is not careful.
her tongue made by an ancient Piscean woman of the desert. hard soiled and cutting with hard roots, holding onto the past. so her tongue spins fire that twines the weight of the past and releases it with burning fury.
she turns and looks over her shoulder. purple auric glow on the horizon. a whole series of past actions burned to the ground and a whole series of future actions spring up with new buds of the never-before seen on television rumors.
when she sleeps tonight she will make a prayer.
she will ask her angels to destroy any false wisdom from her life.
she will beg for forgiveness for her tongue the one that keeps her mouth bleeding.
she will require the angels protection as she meanders onward. without a concrete notion of what is ahead.
there may be nothing.
she closes her eyes to the brilliant winter sun. and a single lavendar tear drops to the center of her chest inbetween her palm sized breasts and falls all the way down to her womb and enters in through the bell button. a secret passageway to her rootedness to the cosmic order she came into this world under, and a silent prayer is made to her as a mother. her as Nasrah's mother.
and she remembers the sorrow of Mary. and drops her head down under the blue sky to celebrate that single tear which resembles awareness of our singular insignificance, and embracing the whole of union, as a united entity... she validates her existence with two hands to the sun in the form of a triangle.
one foot ready to step forwards away from the space cowboys of the world.and into a future of pale unicorn blood. or opalescent rainbow breath.
she wishes her feet didnt cut into the past as they moved forward through time. she tries to shuffle around to reduce the damage, but she can hear her latest victim in a treehouse. his throat slit and full of the barfed blankness of her being. the slight of hand ribbons. an overgrown story. the babysitter done it.
injustice scalpel
she picks up the new york times with her broken fingers and her broken pen leaks ink from her broken breast pocket with her broken heart.
she was born with the broken heart, but God made a hinge for her. so it could open and close. it just takes a while to open and it takes a while to close and sometimes it sticks.
sometimes her soles stick to the ground and it results in falling over or jumping up into the sun or just rubbing up against concrete and making holes in her shoes.
usually an ankle goes loose.
heavily weighted on the right side.
a tv car crash burns on electric tele phone wires over head
we wonder why when she enters the train the train stops
it is not working or working
it is not
anything
it disappears
xela solaris is left standing on the empty platform the world she knew underneath her on the floor like some scrap piece of paper with a doodle on it. the doodle you couldn't understand was the entrance to an ex-dimension. well good you through it in the trash. you missed. we all bled.
the sun riseson Xela's left shoulder
the sun rises on her right shoulder.
she looks over her shoulder. still no train. and the rest of the world is alone again. i mean they became separate.
she walks down the tracks. it's a bridge now over destroyed industrial garbage a gentrification haven in the waiting.
there are a few back pockets when this happens. when electricity combines with water and it stops the weather (and all other humans disappear but the animals who live outside of time linger to support). and as she looks at her wrist watch, the reflection of the round glass gathers sunlight just enough to get the train moving again. the passengers return. XelaSolaris out on the platform still and the train leaves right on schedule.
in the flicker of a blink of an eye.
all this change.
she yet, so used to flying, drops a single tear. Because she was almost human enough this time.
her boots are made of purple steel. rings of saturn, her laces. he feet are heavy in snow and light in air. cutting, herslef and others if she is not careful.
her tongue made by an ancient Piscean woman of the desert. hard soiled and cutting with hard roots, holding onto the past. so her tongue spins fire that twines the weight of the past and releases it with burning fury.
she turns and looks over her shoulder. purple auric glow on the horizon. a whole series of past actions burned to the ground and a whole series of future actions spring up with new buds of the never-before seen on television rumors.
when she sleeps tonight she will make a prayer.
she will ask her angels to destroy any false wisdom from her life.
she will beg for forgiveness for her tongue the one that keeps her mouth bleeding.
she will require the angels protection as she meanders onward. without a concrete notion of what is ahead.
there may be nothing.
she closes her eyes to the brilliant winter sun. and a single lavendar tear drops to the center of her chest inbetween her palm sized breasts and falls all the way down to her womb and enters in through the bell button. a secret passageway to her rootedness to the cosmic order she came into this world under, and a silent prayer is made to her as a mother. her as Nasrah's mother.
and she remembers the sorrow of Mary. and drops her head down under the blue sky to celebrate that single tear which resembles awareness of our singular insignificance, and embracing the whole of union, as a united entity... she validates her existence with two hands to the sun in the form of a triangle.
one foot ready to step forwards away from the space cowboys of the world.and into a future of pale unicorn blood. or opalescent rainbow breath.
she wishes her feet didnt cut into the past as they moved forward through time. she tries to shuffle around to reduce the damage, but she can hear her latest victim in a treehouse. his throat slit and full of the barfed blankness of her being. the slight of hand ribbons. an overgrown story. the babysitter done it.
Saturday, January 17, 2015
that is all
it should be enough to grab lines of coke on a rope hanging from the sky
you shouldn't hurt me
you shouldn't leave me
you've left me
you've left your body
you've left your eyes
I don't see you.
there is no joy but from my own motor
I don't understand your eyes and your sky-grab birthday bag surprise mystery destiny
all I know is my heart is like a clogged motor from all the bullshit from people I love
you don't know me you cant hurt me
as far I am concerned
my eyes as olives
slowly breathing concrete
square shaped roots of a tree
some place to squirm
I feel these feels
none of it is me
no love is me
I am already love and do not have to feel it.
my chest hurts
I am sitting up straight
I am making a sphere
I am protecting myself
there is a sphere around me
I am protecting myself
there is an apple around me
I am protecting myself
I am not hungry
I am no ghost
you wandering wanderless waif
leave me all alone
i'm tired of seeing people abuse other people under the guise of love
and the only way to stop it is to stop it, to stop it myself
and let go of any hopes soiled with baby shit.
from the dumpstered diapers you invisibly wear underneath your material criticisms
and lack of care
it feels like day-walking humans are hunting me down and trying to destroy me so I can't spread love
and it's with control
and it's with accepting control
and it's with one hand behind your back
and the other hand is handing your neighbor a cup of sugar
it's with your words and your body
and the dead eyes you try to fill with life
that is all.
you shouldn't hurt me
you shouldn't leave me
you've left me
you've left your body
you've left your eyes
I don't see you.
there is no joy but from my own motor
I don't understand your eyes and your sky-grab birthday bag surprise mystery destiny
all I know is my heart is like a clogged motor from all the bullshit from people I love
you don't know me you cant hurt me
as far I am concerned
my eyes as olives
slowly breathing concrete
square shaped roots of a tree
some place to squirm
I feel these feels
none of it is me
no love is me
I am already love and do not have to feel it.
my chest hurts
I am sitting up straight
I am making a sphere
I am protecting myself
there is a sphere around me
I am protecting myself
there is an apple around me
I am protecting myself
I am not hungry
I am no ghost
you wandering wanderless waif
leave me all alone
i'm tired of seeing people abuse other people under the guise of love
and the only way to stop it is to stop it, to stop it myself
and let go of any hopes soiled with baby shit.
from the dumpstered diapers you invisibly wear underneath your material criticisms
and lack of care
it feels like day-walking humans are hunting me down and trying to destroy me so I can't spread love
and it's with control
and it's with accepting control
and it's with one hand behind your back
and the other hand is handing your neighbor a cup of sugar
it's with your words and your body
and the dead eyes you try to fill with life
that is all.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
sisssy is apparently snoring sissy is a parent
what is a parent
what is apparent
what is apparent
what is apparent
what pains on a parent
what pulls on apparent eyes which must be clothed wool and sheep's cries
boy who called boy
who called
boy
who called
wolf
who cried
sheep
who pulled wool
over her boy eyes
what is appalling
what is appalling
what is screaming
what is rolling down a soft and grassy hillside
a head ahead of the race
a blanket wrapping the body out of a bush
a race
to get to the top
to roll down
a head ahead of all the rest
what is a parent
a parent is some one thing river wrinkles lines sand
some two three four five ten fingers
that provides love & protection to a child
a child is a tiny god
who knows more in every breath than any apparent bone-eyed hope
a child is a flower whose aroma is so sweet
old people try to steal its stamen
to go fishing with such a nice lure
what is apparent
what is apparent
what is apparent
what is apparent
what is apparent
what is apparent
what pains on a parent
what pulls on apparent eyes which must be clothed wool and sheep's cries
boy who called boy
who called
boy
who called
wolf
who cried
sheep
who pulled wool
over her boy eyes
what is appalling
what is appalling
what is screaming
what is rolling down a soft and grassy hillside
a head ahead of the race
a blanket wrapping the body out of a bush
a race
to get to the top
to roll down
a head ahead of all the rest
what is a parent
a parent is some one thing river wrinkles lines sand
some two three four five ten fingers
that provides love & protection to a child
a child is a tiny god
who knows more in every breath than any apparent bone-eyed hope
a child is a flower whose aroma is so sweet
old people try to steal its stamen
to go fishing with such a nice lure
what is apparent
what is apparent
what is apparent
Saturday, December 20, 2014
potency pocket
dear one dear one dear one two four five
the pour of fingers even removed from my mouth beside your hip bones
stammers to speak but reveals tender tendency to squeak
I hope I wish I dream of staring down into a long corridor in which we are loved by our breath and breath alone
the way I shake sometimes scares me to tears the way I wish to raise my fist and drop my jaw to break my heart and put myself into a corner
and when steam rises and I fail to rise with it, and let the calm settle in
well oh well oh well
how swell to be swollen and let the cold wind wind push tears out until we are dry
how lovely to be dried upon the bike ride through cold streets
and thusly cleansed
and also by your fingers that seem so old
I hold them to my heart when I choose not to hit myself
cage spins endlessly and shake returned incessantly
still eyes roll back in head to re-mind
that stillness lies
in bed
under the moon
next to your head
greatfully
blue blessed
potency
of soft grin
of tender chin
of tendrils that crawl out of my green mouth
alone
children that fall when the tantrum drums out its final beat
feet collapse to sink into your shins
thanking the air of the gods
your breath
my breath
this fear
diminishes slowly
like a kettle left to cool after boiling
the heat cannot last forever
on these cold nights I remember.
the pour of fingers even removed from my mouth beside your hip bones
stammers to speak but reveals tender tendency to squeak
I hope I wish I dream of staring down into a long corridor in which we are loved by our breath and breath alone
the way I shake sometimes scares me to tears the way I wish to raise my fist and drop my jaw to break my heart and put myself into a corner
and when steam rises and I fail to rise with it, and let the calm settle in
well oh well oh well
how swell to be swollen and let the cold wind wind push tears out until we are dry
how lovely to be dried upon the bike ride through cold streets
and thusly cleansed
and also by your fingers that seem so old
I hold them to my heart when I choose not to hit myself
cage spins endlessly and shake returned incessantly
still eyes roll back in head to re-mind
that stillness lies
in bed
under the moon
next to your head
greatfully
blue blessed
potency
of soft grin
of tender chin
of tendrils that crawl out of my green mouth
alone
children that fall when the tantrum drums out its final beat
feet collapse to sink into your shins
thanking the air of the gods
your breath
my breath
this fear
diminishes slowly
like a kettle left to cool after boiling
the heat cannot last forever
on these cold nights I remember.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
world whirl
hello world world world world hole world whole
hello backwards bent open faced face
hello organs spilling out onto the floor
hello bent inside inward grin chocolate table hands
chocolate hands that fall flat on the table
the way we fall flat on our face
and dream about falling
and dream about rising to the top to fall down and back again
the series the series the series the series the series of conclusions
the series of stairs
the series of panels to hide between
the folds of our skin
tie together ribbons that abcess
from within our bellies
cry and hope I can make it
I can survive a few more hours
in this petri dish
does survival make it easier to remove the habits
of fear and repression
or does it just submit them to the body?
I am afraid to say no. to say what I feel to say. I am not.
I am not coming.
I am not here.
I don't wanna,
I don't know.
I cant be this or that.
I am afraid to breathe.
please a few words someone must be able to help
hello backwards bent open faced face
hello organs spilling out onto the floor
hello bent inside inward grin chocolate table hands
chocolate hands that fall flat on the table
the way we fall flat on our face
and dream about falling
and dream about rising to the top to fall down and back again
the series the series the series the series the series of conclusions
the series of stairs
the series of panels to hide between
the folds of our skin
tie together ribbons that abcess
from within our bellies
cry and hope I can make it
I can survive a few more hours
in this petri dish
does survival make it easier to remove the habits
of fear and repression
or does it just submit them to the body?
I am afraid to say no. to say what I feel to say. I am not.
I am not coming.
I am not here.
I don't wanna,
I don't know.
I cant be this or that.
I am afraid to breathe.
please a few words someone must be able to help