Newt (our cat) is thinking about you, a lot

Adding

The shrill aces of cold
then the silence pressed
against my body
it's called winter
and all the parts
of me seem strange
now in the pink light
where my thumbs
are blue
with laughter.

In a minute
a face is torn
from my attachment
to form
lint of my beasts
birds of my desire
the lotion has amber
in it and still
I make a "living."

Shocks and Struts

Machine face fuck--
the garbage is spilling
from the mouth of crystal
red America. The sky
is shredded which is making
the miracles less absorbent
because you're soaking in it.
A bridge over a dirty river--
a river out of respect for
the color pink. Who can push
harder when the gold medal
is stamped Hollywood?
Who shocks and struts?
Who needs more power?
Meat comes in pies too you know.
So the gray plastic has been
decorated with zeroes, so what?
The mistake of history
is going all the way back to the base:
primitive thrills, earth bake, thunder walls,
all a mess, all the medicine in the world
couldn't help you now as you
cry on 6th, cry on 44th. They
don't know better than I am right now
during a war with people dropping things
removed one step, like they were alone
but not missing keys.
A full report was missing.
You just want to be significant
and refreshing and informative
like a soft drink on the New York Times
you just sit there and lick your machine.
Get off me now.

James Schuyler

"The Day
offers so much, holds
so little or is it
simply you who
asking too much take
too little?"

-James Schuyler, "In Earliest Morning"

Broken Social Scene as a soundtrack to riding through the city

Pear Tree

Sitting under a burnt pear tree. It's fruit bloated from the blast.

Dear Formers

I spilled scorched milk
from the action I took
stupid as corn
a coward knows how
a cow knows how
to behead
there's a good reason
to stab my face
america
I am stupid as corn
like my brain is a shoulder
I want you to rub it
in my brain
like a shoulder
until I get the picture

Nick Piombino

"The first inkling is that no one else seems to understand what you want. Then you realize you do not know. Then you know."

Just Watch This

Friday Reading

"A person who, all his life, has been used to living in a certain city and is finally compelled to move elsewhere is of course saddened by the prospect of being thrown into a new environment--but what is it that makes him sad? Is it not the prospect of leaving the place that was for years his home, but the much more subtle fear of losing his attachment to this place. What makes me sad is my creeping awareness that, sooner or later--sooner than I am ready to admit--I will integrate myself into a new community, forgetting and forgotten by the place that now means so much to me. In short, what makes me sad is the awareness that I will lose my desire for (what is now) my home."
-Slavoj Zizek, How to Read Lacan, p.68

From EZ's photoshoot for ArtForum (photo by Sara Lawson)

Reading

Reading coupons clipped from newspapers and magazines to a room full of blind people. Not for their literary value or anything, but just to read them to find out if anyone wants them.

Merrily Merrily & EZ's painting

Moving in a particular way so as to convey a thing or idea.

Watching someone watch you while their eyes start to dilate.

When someone never gets to see you do the good things with your life.

When your pants are dirty and you look caved-in, you rule.

You have the noisiest pants in the palace.

Realizing the only way to get through something is to walk around it.

Sometimes the game is called bombardment.

My Mysterious Air

A dream job: all I have to do is drop air from my stomach into a bowl. That's all I have to do all day is drop air and not complain when things start to change.

Early Morning Question to Self

Have the clothes I'll die in (assuming I'll be clothed when I die) been manufactured yet?

Twyla Tharp

On Tuesday, February 20, 2001 I assembled a fruit basket for Twyla Tharp at The Joyce Theater.

Detail from Elizabeth's Painting

Achilles to Odysseus

"Don't try and sell me on death, Odysseus.
I'd rather be a hired hand back up on earth,
slaving away for some poor dirt farmer,
than lord over all the withered dead."

Book 11/starting with line 510 in the superb Stanley Lombardo translation of the Odyssey

Rainy Saturday Spray Vision and Ear Meat Squeeze

All day listening to Lightning Bolt,
Coughs, Pink and Brown & Part Chimp.

Exfoliate with music. Grind
my beard off. Shark face kick.

If you make out with electricity
you'll get cut by guitar strings.

I'm going down to Dumbo for dinner
with a banjo on my knee.

My Proxy

My proxy is on overload
but my hands are strong and my
friends all say that I have a strong back
and good mind. I have occasional power surges
and the random "I can't do this, I'm too freaked out"
moments. But they are growing ever rarer
now that the weather is warmer
and the leaves are actually making shade
where I once sought the insane comfort of wind.
If living in Brooklyn will suffice as my proxy
then I am alive and comfortable
as my proxy will allow.

Hi Fi!

VENUS was all about shenanigans. The punk
swirl is INSTANT and THRILLING. A little grease
on your BLUE comb from slackers. A pond
is there simply to levitate MACHINES in.

Look at the wicker medicine cabinet
in the fancy home: LOVELY!

Last interview I did: STYLES SECTION: RE: HI FI!

Standard mental traps. Couples fight over
WALLPAPER and WIRING. The earth is a mixture
of velvet and salt PUTTY.
I am NOT EVEN HERE.
The ray of ginger light is illuminating
my CHEESE and LETTUCE sandwich.

Chrome camera, the bolt is fastened
to her bermuda shorts.
Come HERE.
Come into the cloak of GREEN light.

There is news. There is news on the radio
and in the papers. I am all about the NEWS.

Wittgenstien asks...

"Why can't a dog simulate pain? Is he too honest?"

From Philosophical Investigations

Robot: A Fever

Strutting in pain
the robot is partial
to loss--each one
a delicate fizz
clinically stressed by arcs
of cool weather
my god your mouth
is so extreme as
it stretches over a slice
of inky cake
they found his robot
in a bag
twisted sister
all the humdrum
and manic thistles
all I have
all for you

I just want everything to be okay and it's not

The Disappointing Islands of the Chesapeake

A great song "Sun Showers" (Billie Holiday's version).

Mood Artistry: early herbalists believed that borage drove away melancholy and made men and women alike merry and joyful.

May not be as effective as the eye (I) cried for you.

4.7.93. was a Wednesday. It was the last day that the remaining milk was good.

The three sun showers of eternity: Angel is fat/Cowboy is silly/Daddy is wonderful.

If you speed Louis Armstrong up he sounds like Billie Holiday.

I'm about to explore the actions of yielding, pushing, reaching and pulling when I walk downstairs to get the paper.

His dream: a restaurant shaped like 94-foot-high egg, at the center of which were two cooks in a yellow yolk. But there was no space for cashiers except at the entrance.

Her dream (as told to me):
In speckled
walking down the corridor
in paint speckled painter's pants
he turned to his companion and said
he said, might as well
put the pecker away
and go home.

TEXANI is ITALIAN for COWBOY BOOTS

Bring, wear your TEXANIS
Over, looking over my shoulder
Do you want a/kiss for that?

Hidden meanings where there are none.

I'm going to start really fucking shit up for real.

The sky blurs your face--
I can't remember your name.
I told you so.

I was tagged by Sharon Mesmer

Five little known-facts about myself:

1) I was born in Austin, Minnesota.
2) I was the captain of my High School Football Team (in Ottumwa, Iowa).
3) At 13 I hid my first poems in an old Penthouse Magazine.
4) I gently squeeze my wife's big toe (we call it "soft toe") when I get out of bed before her.
5) I kissed Allen Ginsberg on the lips once.

I tag you, the reader of this. Leave your 5 in the comments section. Thanks.

Rock with me to this (click)

Still the greatest and at CBGB's no less.

Elizabeth Zechel, All Star Hotties, and Green Hand

Me in front of Elizabeth's painting