Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Bacillus Cereus (Uncle Max Tribal Mix)

We had no idea that the Billy Joel thing would get so out of hand. The Tendril Sisters brought out the big guns and restored a whole houseload of appliances. I talked with my wife about my fascination with Ed Asner and she was unable to grasp how (A)sner had changed my life and Billy Joel's life for the better. She told me that I didn't know Billy Joel and that the way I sing his songs is kind of scary. I listened to two of her mother's old 78s and wait...

I really have nothing to say. Fuck you!

Saturday, September 25, 2004


people in the hood
got hardships and all that shit
but my pain means more
at least to me
do they think about me?
all I ever think about is me
albeit briefly

Your journey is meaningless! You are meaningless!

Tuesday, September 21, 2004


The home pregnancy test shows a blue minus sign, meaning she will have a child with a negative attitude. She'll name the child after a comet, but won't really know that she named the child after a comet. She'll just remember that she liked the name and saw it in the paper or heard it on television.

Use gasoline as an astringent! Promises are fads!

Sunday, September 19, 2004


Tonight I worked with the doctor who's also a poet and he wanted to know what I thought of Noam Chomsky.
I said that I thought he was probably pretty lonely.
Then the doctor who's also a (p)ublished (p)oet said that of all the things I could have said about Noam Chomsky that he had just never thought of him as someone who would be lonely.
I asked my friend the doctor whose (N)ew (B)ook of (P)ublished (P)oetry just came out whether he thought that poets and linguists could ever really get along and he said he supposed not.

Noam's pain is nothing special! Yours never was!

Monday, September 13, 2004


I long for a good short story
I stored a good long shoreman
Some stove spilt goo on Lance Sherman
Stemmed spores long for lamb shanks to mend
Oh to mend/oh to mend/ode to men
I have quality time
And it's no crime to rhyme about
Sailors and saints and the Poles with their paints
From their rituals
There is a freedom to riding without a helmet
To hell with it
Oh now, to hell with it

The dance lessons didn't take. All you ever say is "envelope".


I cross bug spray off my list
After I find the "Stater-Saver" brand
One dollar ninety-nine compared to almost four for the Raid
My main concern is that the cheap spray may not kill as quickly as the Raid might
Thus prolonging any agony that the bugs experience on their journey to death
Am I a better man for allowing them more time?
More time to feel the harsh neurotoxins seep through shiny-black bug skin
Does it feel like being burned? Electrocuted? Suffocated?
I end up buying the Raid, knowing that the better man kills bugs quickly and efficiently
Because that is what he, himself, would want
When the spray comes down from above

Have yourself a good cry. Your life is sad!

Friday, September 10, 2004

Thiamin (a rebel song)

I am (M)ango-green with envy
That your father trusted you with a gun
And took you hunting (R)ustic-brown animals
That tumbled down slow like a Peckinpah dream
With Dustin Hoffman by your side
You always got the better ride
(F)antastic rebel! Choose your devil!
Pills have r(u)led your dopamine
Levels skewed your middle bubbles
Reduce this town to rubble
Let's reduce this on the double!

Tepid water is fear. Dad killed the deer.

Sunday, September 05, 2004

Althea (Marshmallow) Root

In the village of Ralegaon Siddhi, native alpacas known as "domestic partners" are allowed access to all places that humans can go. One of these domestic partners often leaves refurbished IBM Selectric typewriters in the village museum, earning him the name "Timmy." I have written a poem for Timmy for reasons I cannot discuss yet.
Poem for Timmy
The patina on the brass plate was dark like a chow's tongue
In a chow's mouth without light
But whose eye can see dark patina in a lightless chow's mouth?
The eye of Timmy the alpaca can see through chow cheeks
Because alpacas have quantum-foveated retinas
Allowing for the seeing of the aforementioned dark patina
Timmy called for the birth of a new god
Timmy read the words on the brass plate:
---be with it that this new god be named Mr. Lucky---

Go hiking someplace locally! You'll be surprised that nature has not abandoned you!

Friday, September 03, 2004

Borage Seed Oil (Town Without Pity Remix)

Who would wrap their child in foil?
Rice hulls aerate stubborn soil
A watched pot has no will to boil
You stained the valence with borage seed oil
Child in foil
Stubborn soil
Will to boil
Borage seed oil!

You left this town a total wreck
Redwood makes a stunning deck
I hear you used to hang with Beck
As I suspected, (R)itter-Neck
Total wreck
Stunning deck
Hang with Beck

I watched you tear your life to shreds
The cure for cluttered lawns is sheds
Sour dough sows sour breads
The name of this band is the Talking Heads!
Life to shreds
Lawns is sheds
Sour breads
Talking Heads!

Time heals all wounds! Unless infection runs rampant!