I'm not really here.
Some long time ago i might have been.
Back for a bit.
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WFMU
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Stir-fried parsley
Random nodeshells
Bang! Who'd I shoot?
Sorry, I don't work here
How I fell in love with Alice
My brother shit in my pillow
I love you, but it's cold out here
in the still hollows under bridges
I'm a locksmith, and I'm a locksmith
For my last trick, I made her disappear
Cruising down Otay, jacked up on Benadryl
Some of our best friends are three minutes long
Choose your words carefully; now throw them away
Writing about music is like dancing about architecture
Copyright Infringement is Your Best Entertainment Value
Unlawful duplication will get you fuck up by the Ghetto Style DJs
I pray to God you don't look at me. You pray to God I don't look back.
The hot girls from cold countries have scars you're not supposed to see
The Everything People Registry : USA : Cardboard Box Cities Behind Wal-Marts
You'll be something special one day. And you -- you have to take care of your sister.
I wrote you a letter on the bus back from the city, but that's a different kind of weary
So I was balls deep in the guy's ass that night when he turns to me and asks for a kiss. Damn. What a fag.
Your radical ideas about time traveling to July 29, 1947 to have a threesome with Marilyn Monroe and Jackie Kennedy have already occurred to others
Tell me a story about a burro, standing atop a mesa, surrounded by a flock of geese, being fed by a weathered old man wearing nothing but a Jimmy hat
Standing on a mountaintop in northern Siberia under the rapidly descending bulk of asteroid McAlmont, with a calculating expression and a baseball bat
socketes matures during 4 14 years. - reflections upon an obscure Dadaist genius in our midst; or, how I learned to stop worrying and love the troll.
Once I googled your old screen name and found web pages you made in high school. Are you married now? Is that why you haven't called?
Having gotten myself into a position where I can have my cake and eat it too, I feel no compulsion to get up from the table
This must be the night when I remember how to fly, when the breeze catches my weight at last
Realizing just as the drunken brawl gets going that this time, *you* are the asshole
In the dream he laughs and says, You thought they were graceful on the ground
I'm out; I'm free. Down here the night air is purple. What do I do with it all?
We are robots. We work with each other. We produce small scraps of paper.
You've been slowly taking me over for nearly a year, do you know that?
Education is evil. Knowledge is evil. Be a moron. Forget how to spell.
The animals behind the glass are thrilling, as we expected
Everyone should experience being a minority occasionally
The note I didn't give to the woman in the bookstore
Everyone except me is having a picnic on the moon
Lost love - or how I grew to love the truck stop
Not her voice, but the way her voice changes,
There were no clouds. I prayed for lightning.
The Amplified Sounds of Tiny Insects
Now is the time when I start: Drink
Patriotism: A Menace to Liberty
Interesting fruits I've known
A response to horse porn
I made an old man cry
How to give a hug
Finnish proverbs
chimichurri
Porest
In C
Art is shit
Åke Hodell
Eugene V. Debs
Gangpol und Mit
Shirley & Spinoza
if i never saw you again
How did I get here, Sarah?
Helping your kid brother die
An email from my ex-boyfriend
Van Der Hoog's Country Curative
Proof that Baptists cause tornados
Mommy, this lady's wearing Skechers!
Things to remember before raising your hand
Make yourself into a town that doesn't know you
This child has talent. She needs a better box of paints.
These people from the other village smell wrong! Kill them!
she named it killer and took it to the beach to play in the sand
I walk on ill-laid planks and rusty gratings; I am waiting for my fall
Name every road down which you go in a tongue that only you know
I peer at the ball game, tired of Whitman, tired of wanting to be great.
Like white light? Or a long low moan that turns into laughing? Or the holes in Jesus' hands?
It is of utmost importance that you prowl through the darkness, devouring lost children
There were people on the Titanic who waved away the dessert trolley
Building a patio from a book during largely unfavorable weather
Every vegetable we grow is a blow against global capitalism
Obscenity is the crutch of inarticulate motherfuckers
Autumn crunching in damp air and tousled hair
Warning to travellers from an Arab gentleman
Staring at the floor pattern in the kitchen
Sauteed broccoli and garlic over pasta
Throwing sparks, growing dahlias
God Talk and Burning Children
Emily. Emily. Emily. Delete.
you can't unring a bell
ducks prefer chapatis
Nihilist Spasm Band
Fuck You Curry
punch thyself
Irene Moon
John Watermann
You've lost a wheel!
Humorous Writings of E2
two limericks about whores
In a building made of bones
Daily Evil: December 25, 2000
Japanese children, ages 7 to 12
I have a crush on a girl in France
How to teach art to a four-year-old
gear catalog collage. it's a love poem.
God bless the terrorists, and their families
I died a little inside, and now I reek of death
Selling my least favorite stuff to the neighbors
two daylogs for the price of one, and all of it is true
Diagnosed with 6 months to live, I become a one-man-army
For the unnamed Korean female who lay dying outside my window
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
one kid against the fence, scuffed shoes, probably a trumpet case at his feet
she gave herself that holocaust haircut. cinnamon colored clippings cover the motel bedspread like sprinkles.
In a quiet grove of pines under a frosty sky, he helped her out of the sack. She wore severe white hospital pajamas and was beautiful.
to distort thorax dimensions and mating rituals go awry, population of the hive has fallen dramatically and we are all doomed to piss hell
people were milling around at my wake, whispering and glancing. afterwards, my wife took a twirl with the embalmer
I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn't work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness.
from now on, I can bring my stick in the house; from now on, I can poke my stick at the wall
dead celebrities slouched in booths and the music of a busy kitchen's clinking plates
Conrad wants to know what I have been dreaming. This might get complicated.
Would you really feel any pity if one of those dots stopped moving forever?
Found Poem: From a Study on Reading Habits, Grade 1 Responses
maintenant: NOW, maintenance: upkeep, etc. enforced now-ness
Listen, we ended up ruined. I find my answers where I can.
Small children remember in black and white sometimes
Twenty-three good things about pickles and dirt
I spent all of last night dancing on graves
So this one-legged man walks into a bar
Whacking down pears with my prick
The USA has fucked up priorities
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282
E2 is unfriendly to New Order
Two Lives in One Dark Alley
a refined sense of humor
I have started a box
January 17, 2013
The Lloyd Pack
Big Blood
Emil Beaulieau
October 4, 2008
Rosewater lemonade
Leon Takes Us Outside
Aislers Set Show Review
I love you, Mr. Gonsalves
Dream of flowers in dustbins
Nathan, This Is Unacceptable
tag after one like a tantony pig
things you can't turn into poetry
A finish line what shifts in the sand
but mr can you maybe listen there's
Interviews with Drivers of Lunch Trucks
I'd like to thank my parents, Ayn Rand and God
Home is where the heart is. Home is in the ribcage.
Iris Murdoch is dead. Hold my hand. It's your turn now.
Save your tender loving care for the nuclear fireball in June.
The parable of Ernie and Bert and the painting of the cow eating grass
I am the one hiding under your bed; teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red.
When I sneeze, I get cross, and when I get cross I'm liable to do something wicked.
This is just an ordinary well. You think there is more to it, but it is just an ordinary well
To the eye of the fast moving motorist, concrete painted green is as good a substitute for grass as any
memories are a mob of dead ex-girlfriends standing outside your bedroom window, their heads and shoulders shelves for snow.
......this is a commission for painters of:......
I know them by the trucks they drive, the names they call each other, the tattoos on hot, shirtless days, the music they blast after lunch, to get through the rest of the day.
I felt as calm as the day outside. My footsteps were certain below the neutral sky. I wished there were someone watching.
The envelope held fingernail parings and a note which read, "There are more where these came from"
The second hand is stopped just after the four, twitching periodically. Outside, a cold rain.
in which lead gliders freeze against the sun for 0981 seconds of Earth-shattering beauty
Put an unmonitored piano in a public place. It's the only real magic that exists.
World, take care of me. You don't owe it to me, but I don't know any better.
They need food AND water? You didn't tell me about the water part.
Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my angel?
The ham wasn't the only thing that got baked for Christmas
If I could be anything I'd be water and I'd be wild about it.
Your grace under pressure. Your face under water.
Toss another Monet on the fire, we need the heat.
I don't care. I like who I am because of it.
This music crept by me upon the waters
but the fruitsellers are there every day
Tell me a story about monetary policy
Aline's number is alone with itself
Camille Paglia, date rape, and me
All that noise, and all that sound
Garlic slow-cooked in olive oil
How to Deal with Tear Gas
Everything's Best Killers
I'm no Whitman...
Fuck the models
Old people die