Ofelia Hunt Interviews Me

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Sunday Top 10

1) Tara!

2) My Bloody Valentine.

3) The Red Hook, Brooklyn Fixed Gear Bike Race last night.

4) Hibino, I'll never get tired of that place (Pacific & Henry).

5) Mythologies by Roland Barthes.

6) Walt Whitman.

7) Jason Nazary's amazing solo drum show on Friday night at the Douglass Arts Center.

8) New Balance 890's (v2).

9) Lee Ranaldo.

10) Puerto Rico!

Thrash Guitar Lessons

Get on the plane to mistake world.
They have these pearl shirts there
that you can slather up with jelly
and ham sugars. They are so lovely
with their prisms and mystic goals.
Look out for the tweed milk solution,
it has prickly briars that will ruin a blouse.
Later in the evening, we'll run along
the green water canal; it has an anti-gloom
mechanism that removes frivolous doubt
while cradling you in a memorable aspic cast.
I will wait in the blue yonder mobile,
eyes darting, mood stable, and all
hands on deck for this mothy exchange!

New York City

You carry your life to this muddy view
of the night. Oh, that you could spell
things on the roof of your mouth
and spit them into a cup. I would
catch what spills from you and put it
into a mold and hold you there. I would.
The complete circus that is New York City
which has never been more sparkly, or sad. Every
corner is the first or last place I did this or that.
I would clear the city of this haunted matter
as though it were my hands clearing a table
tugging parts of the room into some space
that is easier to forget. Yeah. Right.
Like all you need to do is pretend to fly
over Houston Street with your arms flapping
in front of a car that was built in a factory
before you were born. Like that would change anything.

Honey Light

We take off our clothes
because we're minty fresh
and covered in honey light. Dang!
We swagger because we know places
in the chest where the heart has rubbed
a groove into a rib. Dance! We ride our
horse standing up because it is
the only way to traverse Brooklyn in style.
Freaky! What else? We've adopted a point
of view that allows for the boundaries to dissolve.
Dangerous! Events like desire make for a certain palatable
sweetness at all times. Gosh! Our mouths are greasy
from eating ass fat. Intriguing! We look natural
and unfussy as we zero in on bliss. Right on!
That's just the way we roll out of bed. Oh yeah!

Represent

I'd like you to consider the batch
of electric shocks making my brain
juicy with blue bolts of internet (in one year
and out the other). Mop up the residue
of slippery junk mail all over the passage
about tending to the circus of sparks.
I'll cuddle in the foyer, I'll even slam
my arm against the slate floor until
it breaks in two places for you. Cuddle
forever. I would like you to consider
which latch to tug so the white spasm
in that funky part of my brain goes
spastic with charming stories after dinner.
I'll wash the dishes, I'll cuddle in the fryer,
I'll bulldoze the night into a soft series
of sparks that give off the scent of oud
and burnt sugar. I'll stave off despair
while you represent and signify and stir.

Three

Rest in Peace, Lewis-Bear

Top Ten Books of March 2012

1) The Anatomy of Harpo Marx by Wayne Koestenbaum.

2) Noon 2, 2012 edited by Diane Williams.

3) The Interrogative Mood by Padgett Powell.

4) Today & Tomorrow by Ofelia Hunt.

5) Locus Solus by Raymond Roussel.

6) On the Nature of Things by Lucretius.

7) Selected Poems by Louis Zukovsky.

8) Selected Prose, Daybooks, and Papers by George Oppen.

9) 365 Days Project by Jonas Mekas.

10) Silence by John Cage.

A Small Yellow Fruit Landed on the Windshield

Ice Cream in Bed

Awungilobolele -Udukotela Shange Namajaha

Morning soundtrack:

Love,
Todd

No More Jumping on the Bed

Stand By

Itself a slow glower
Smell sadness on him when
He crumbles in the room
The medicine around him crusty
On his mouth stuck in his beard
Glass and some melody he can't get 
From his head what I got or did
Not got I almost forgot what I did
Not got I got nothing but this all this.
I got nothing better to do than get it
Together for somebody to care more than that
I don't have all that I don't have that at all.
I have a great deal of mystery I would like
You to have a loaf of it I would like it if
You would you would do it for me and with me
And stand by my and stand by.

Telling Someone to Stop

Of summer

Friday Top 10

1) Humiliation by Wayne Kostenbaum

2) Psychomagic by Alejendro Jodorowsky

3) Knockemstiff by Donald Ray Pollack

4) Cathy Horyn's audio/video recap of fashion week in Paris in the NY Times.

5) Mister Freedom Chambray Shirts.

6) Fridays in general.

7) The gorgeous orchid that Michael and Leva brought over.

8) Le Labo: Cedre 11 candle.

9) Selling three more of my collages to a London art dealer.

10) Getting all up in your grill.

Scram

Remember when people used to say they
could not feel their arm? When all of this
city air was ventilated with palms and the cold
rush of peppermint gas was brought in through
a pink tube in the ceiling hung with zip ties and foil?
Do you remember when the crowds
would disperse along the river and wander
into the hills split not only by desire but the muted
nobility of earnestness and palimpsests?
Do you remember when the dirge of the day
sounded regal and pointed, not harsh and blotted?
Do you remember when the lucrative jangle
was mostly for rented spaces and wet throated
desire was for the warm honey-lobbed spank of Mulberry?
Do you remember when the pastry was coarse
and inedible powdered not with sugar but
the creatures of 23rd Street? Do you remember when
the moist towelettes would stack neatly in the vestibule
halting not just the flow of blood but also of thought
and intent? Do you remember when the soft breezes
of March were stained with orchids in clay?

Alejandro Jodorowsky featuring Sleep - Holy Mountain

Let Us Know You're Here

I stuffed my silver spacesuit
full of cashews. I wanted to explain
about how when I'm out there, and physics,
and the food they give me, well, I'm rambling.
The trees, or my memory of trees
with their white leaves, the sparkle of blue eels
in streams, now the warm rock I sit on to warm
my bottom. My consolation is dimming out
to the fried ends of a delicious episode. If I could
pry up the horizon and lift the lid of the sky
I'd fall asleep whenever possible. I'm thinking
maybe, just maybe, this is why
I can't have nice things.

Comme des Garcons

Joseph Beuys, Walking

Beth Jeans Houghton

Lost in Space

What I could ever do
slender night sliver of you
calm under a bath of light
the silver sea foam lamp
over a book a solid form
that you can hold in your hands
tear down all that stuff on your walls
under a barrage of silence just
put on your new boots and thump
all over manhattan while counting
down to zero funk slow motion
a cascade of doubt tugging you now
dot the sidewalk with your spit
a punctuation between moves
making up for lost space.