If I never had to
pick my nose,

a nostril unfull


a clean cave
cock carriage

a godless void,

I would smell the
world all over again.
an anti-asthmatic take...

...Would I stop
liking cauliflower?

Maybe its best not to
fill that prescription...

An old friend'a mine

me: i like singing

Charlie: slid me some embarrassment mmm

11:11 AM me: youcan act, you can sing about Anything,it doesnt have to apply or make sense

Charlie: theres a whale in me and its blubbers foam

11:12 AM me: ionce killed a man with my tale and dome

11:13 AM Charlie: thought i heard someone sniffle in the bush, so i pulled out a killer telephone

11:14 AM me: what i found was your body shivering in moonlight, so i picked up thepieces and took you home

11:15 AM Charlie: mother, she forces the comb

11:16 AM but these untidy hairs cant bear to stare down the forky line

11:18 AM me: BRB

Charlie: mm

time

N.

Naked would make a nice name.

of nows and todayrrow

thoughtened future
is

grand chandielier patio
pat to give you give Romance

footoe winks through
food tableture transparency
woundful like loveb(l)ud lilac not lav en dier

my melissa dear time near
choice of kills me
not the cancercock eyes is has apathetic the yesdome rectum thought
but a love drive heart steamengined

'


cubicuddle

a great day in the life of charlie

no sleep

you wake me up excited kisses

jump in a car

loud bob dylan

sunrise ees

eyes*

burn newspapers out window

forest walk

marijuana talk

make love

marry each other

bike a round

dance to unbearable sweat

sit with wide landscape

talking

sleep under moon

October 2010

Chai tea    ,    sweet not spicy    ,   warming my pen

sullens 4:30 Master Sun Plungened-

Matress minded      ,       seams sucking surroundings

Roommate won’t hear a cry

select for him Passing

                           $3.20 water_tea_chair- ambience             ,

unborn yelp urbaNa

may apparate.                                                                                                      haunting. like the

reEvolved tail(pharmaceutical dizastore).caught in

his back. wheel. a

tail        I’ve grown, out of yogurt spills of

memoranda [e]nam(abble)ored

bioterrorizate birthday cake

brOth delivahd

from your scent’s address;

dreamly orgasmosis cutting away the

orgasmoclastic fat when orgasmoclasms

clot in self-tailored

                                                    spasms-------

------------------------------------------example of---

----------------------------------------------the---------

----------------------------------------------hour-----!--

----discussing, by the stone face of

some asianly elder, in that san carlos jamba juice,

      unconformed stories of

our families’ horns

                                                                                                                                            exposed

gn(n, n,N)arled into[***] each

[m]other     .

…

…                                .                                                         . …        , ..          

                                       .

                                           .                                         

                                         .      ((((((((     ))))))))  ¬ orbicular oven

                                                                            . .   ..of unpleasantness

yes, passibly not the dreamly orgasmosis

                                              I hoped for

More to come                                   for

big tissue-girl,

shield me from forces of gossip an(,)d flu.

   

Shit sometimes

Shit sometimes is slow and warm.

(For those unlucky) Shit
sometimes pierces with
an impatient grinnn
                               n
                                   n
                                       nnn

Shit sometimes is the best
place to read,
few well-placed cracks se par at ing
you from a nauseous sink in
a dress of hair and the occasional
stew of toothpaste and noodles.

How much wood

Woulda wood chuck fuck

Ifa wood chuck could chuck fuck?

As I try to think
with the stars in gaze
still nothing goes pink
in my disguised brain
for the sky isn't you

that's why I've gone insane

Fiddling with plastic squares punched into an even bigger plastic square that opens up a small screen of a less detailed version of your face, my only vice these days.

We're running someplace and the trees are green because we've glued all the clones onto them and spray painted them blue and then yellow, to be all alone in this forgotten fire unmad house that we've created out of nothing, we're God.

Bad kids.

I can draw now, according to this textbook on my counter, before my proportions were all wrong and the sharp outline of my figure was taking away depth to my characters, expanding the cartoon feature. Shutup.

Your shape I certainly like, but I like too the shape your shape makes in the empty spaces.

In the empty spaces, I'll find you, not only in an untitled folder on a desktop with dancing shadows, but also beneath a tree and by the river where you long to fall asleep in silence and not in hot trendy bodied drunks.

I'm sorry.

But this is not the nice little poem you asked for me to write you.

This poem isn't even a poem.

You're imagining it.

I'm not even here, I'm behind you about to blindfold you with ten fingers and giggling before I ask you where you've been and where your bed is and the number to your roommate so we can ask him to stay with his girlfriend.