Monday, April 30, 2007

Partner Up

Some play on love
when disaster strikes
once and so: the bubble chop,
coins on the floor, a grab at dusk
lit brightly. Bummer cloud,
pop toasted and yanked clean.
Gone are the days of the brass
receptacle. Gone is the concept
of white matte leather.
Gone fishing. Gone breezy
and aching.

Friday, April 27, 2007

The Real Song in My Head

The Other Song in My Head

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Body Bandit

Clap your hands
until they fall off
fold them into a napkin
politely break dance
on your own cerebellum
with spiked heel razors
with sharp panther leather
with a punctured candy heart
oh pack your bags
& scribble a goodbye letter
with gasoline ink
you gas huffer
let your human shell
bend in half
like a jackknife
stained with red jelly
and bloated
with dirty helium --
it's like that y'all.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007


Sometimes, you know, I just want to put my head down on my desk and sleep.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Poem For Sky Lovers

If the sky
poured meat on us --
If blood stained flannel
were faded by the sun --
If there were a warm muscle
inside a lemon --
It would all twitch
under your pillow
while you wrote poems
to end the curse.
With these words I kiss
your arm over
my throat
and in the time
it takes to sweetly
say go I say go.

Monday, April 16, 2007

Bukka White

It doesn't get any better than this.

Friday, April 13, 2007

Panic Bird

Your glee is my medicine
greening from grey
lighting the heart
so as to make
the room dance --
a panic bird escaped
from your chest
during your nap:
I traced the outer
portion of your lips
with a blue magic marker --
we should have a talk.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

LCD Soundsystem -- Movement

Give me this song in my head all day long

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

You Should Come to This (Click Here)

Hint: I'm giving a reading here on Thursday, April 19th at 7PM, click above for details.

Monday, April 09, 2007

Poem for the day that seems to last a long time

What sweet word comes from your lips
with the soft music of spacing out on a train?
Is all the hurried music a sign?
Do you know what it's like
to find cash money in someone's hair?
Do you think in breaths, then in words?
Someone's bones are holding up the plump light
that just so happens to be intruding
on this room when I should be asleep.
You could have air and by air I mean:
move over so we can call
the sweetness an errant visitation.
Remember how those letters
were formed by your hand? The hand
that held the hammer that broke
the house? Remember how you
were happy at the thought --
remarkably so? I actually turned
around and waved to you
because I knew you were going
to throw a water balloon at my head.

Sunday, April 08, 2007

Happiness is a Red Racing Bike

Friday, April 06, 2007

If I Had a Shoulder

If my brain were a shoulder
then you'd be rubbing
some cream
on my shoulder.

Thursday, April 05, 2007

Poem for the prevention of materialism

I want a smooth opening
in these jagged banks of red clay
to reveal blue chunks of money.

Just kidding.

There's a beautiful taste in my mouth based on laughing.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007


It takes about a week to eat an entire eagle.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

From The Yogurt Boy Files

This is an incredible experience for no one else but you and your immediate family

Monday, April 02, 2007

Emily Haines

I Will Kick Your Ass!

The burlap napkin is covering
a tub of freezer burned blue ice cream
called "Cotton Candy Ski Jump."
My glasses are smudged
with the oil from your face.

A pat of butter is stuck
to your cap and all you can say is "gosh."
Disdain is blooming
like a knife blooms blood, like
peanut butter proves there is a god,
like a red kite floats in the Gowanus Canal.

A lap is solemn
when you are fatigued by grief.

PS I will kick your ass.

Sunday, April 01, 2007

Morning Reading

"Publicness obscures everything, and then claims that what has been covered over is what is familiar and accessible to everybody." -- M. Heidegger, Being and Time

"In the word, in language, things first come to be and are. For this reason too, the misuse of language in mere idle talk, in slogans and phrases, destroys our genuine relation to things." -- M. Heidegger, Introduction to Metaphysics

I am yours alone to live and die with.