A pot luck is a thick gumbo that mixes various media & genres together into a thick gumbo. It’s my scrapbook where I keep all my leaves, my schedules, my studies, my research, my poetry, my anecdotes, my memos, my doodles, my recipes, my cheat codes, my passwords, my top 13 lists, my diary, my […]
Our story starts on a breezy afternoon, the creamy pastures o’ Donut Plains stretching as far as the eye could see—a’least from west to east; from north to south, the land was the thinnest slice. Koopez ne’er knew what’d happen if someone attempted to move latitudinally; he ne’er saw anyone dare. But Koopez didn’t let […]
Accompanying music. Viewed through blinds, your smoky scents with your rattling tracks & wheels passes straight through my brain stem with the rusty steel that peels scraps & bolts & coal-black fire, painted muddy brown & red. Midnight chugged without a tire & a million-meter bed. Sure your ghosts are sure cliché, floating in their […]
1st, the phrase is redundant. All justice is social. Justice is nothing mo’ than comparing how 1 person is treated to ‘nother & seeing that they’re equal. E’en if one believes in meritorious justice rather than equalitarian, one believes that greater rewards are balanced by greater liability in the form o’ greater effort. Balance ‘tween […]
I’m wrong. All wrong. --& I’ve been wrong since the beginning o’ the bomb. «¡Ack! ¡You’re wrong! ¡Stop being so perverse & admit that everyone’s a lemon wedge on the edge o’ tea!» But they’re wrong, & that’s what makes them right, for the wrongest wrong one can wreak is being right. Look @ these […]
Still bubbling–sidewalk spit.
Crumple all my papers under bellies hungry for a scratch; feel & hear your dormant thunder while you ready paws to snatch jackets trying to pass by. But I know you always flee from the wall-clung fly-fast lights, even though just made by CDs. Playing poker, you beat me; now I need to pay the […]
Rain scattered o’er his face & chin & eyeballs. The sky was bluer than blue chairs. He was hungry. He was skeleton thin. His joints were somehow both sore from sleeping on the drywall & numb from the ice box in his heart. His fingers were crawling with hangnails. ‘Twas while trudging through the sky’s […]
¡Por ahí! ¡Mira! ¿Ves aquello espacio de estacionamiento que tiene las grietas y los bultos en la corteza? Es… No, viento, no puedes tomar este poema. Malo, ¿cuándo estaba yo? Por supuesto: soy eso espacio agrietado yo. Ahora, ¿Ves aquello espacio con la boca erótica de tormenta? No soy eso. No seré eso nunca. No. […]
