February 2012
4 posts
1 tag
2 tags
2 tags
January 2012
1 post
December 2011
1 post
November 2011
2 posts
On How I Intend to Introduce My Wife, Who Has...
A Haiku, traditional meter
viscera like warm pudding
escapes gutted slit
watch out for grizzlies, dearest
September 2011
2 posts
stealing from myself
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30, 2008
untitled #4
will it be the days spent with you
rapturously making love;
vulgar hyena-laughter zeroed thereto.
will it be the day spent headthru
ceiling;
ragdolled pose nothingness.
will it be the laying in bed
again counting lie-like sheep;
fornicating jesus of the west speaks no more.
will there be endlike/endtimes—fires
arrive purge dawn through miraculous...
Watchpremeditation 3 - 2004
April 2011
1 post
circus
today i had a CT scan with ink.
and they pulled my IV incorrectly -
and i bled all over everything:
the machine, my pants, the floor, a table
it was something else.
February 2011
1 post
Shooting craps helps makes the time pass
There’s a way, hell, there’s many ways that she don’t measure to you.
But there ’s no time for that, nomore, anymore, no time.
There’re things I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive: you or me
But I guess that’s how it all rolls out; when you’re up, you’re up, and when not it’s all the other
Here we are with a path in a yellow wood, and we both trod the less travel’d
January 2011
1 post
November 2010
1 post
Commute/Commune
girls with “fun” tops discuss
eating contests and
“hour of power” yoga
with their accompanying
male chaperone
on the train
to DUMBO tonight. i was uncomfortable sitting next to them
as they discussed:
professional marathoning
their friends’ new rib/taco joint
exercising methodologies
and i thought about:
how much i want a drink
cocaine
...
October 2010
1 post
August 2010
2 posts
May 2010
1 post
untitled (19.05.10)
there is a certain sameness of getting on with the living
when everything dries up
so you did it again with the drink; and you’re thinking about the coke; you’re thinking about explosions of delicate grace that you never seem to be around for
there is a lot of distraction and the buses never cease screeching endless rounds of stop&start at the corner
this place is too small...
March 2010
0 posts
This evening is
rabbit is unhappy with
explosions on television
October 2009
1 post
our yellow house
remember when the mice
sat on the blocks
of poison we put out?
and with eager mouse-hands
they kept on stuffing their bodies full of the stuff
like making into rodent foie gras?
that place that kept hearts beating
remember those long nights that ended
lying under the table as the sun
began its ceaseless drive thru the curtains?
we, like they.
September 2009
1 post
August 2009
3 posts
Jesus, He Is Just Alright With Me
me: christ
what an annoyance
Steve: indeed
christ is
me: true
his golden, flowing hair
and blue eyes
Steve: pale white skin
me: pale as the driven snow
cleft chin
brando-esque features
Steve: muscular, hirsute forearms
me: bulging pectorals
me: bulging biceps, body beautiful
Steve: bulbous penis
me: enormous testicles
me: luxuriant back hair
me: well-stuffed pantaloons
Steve: sublime buttocks of steel
me: rippling, thrusting, engorged appendages
me: you are probably sleeping
dreaming about bulbous-peened jesus
to remind yourself that you didn't die
there was something about the long legged mess
that anticipated another mess shot(shit)through with all the fuckstench made acrobatic
and i said at one point, i’m pretty sure - “it’s a damn good thing that there’s love and then there’s love” and i’m pretty sure you agreed. but to the instant
we’re stained and unholy
and you speak so beauty -...
somewhere there's some weird calculus going on
apparently you’re my muse and i’m the artist?
this is the way we postpone
and this is why the
and the &
&&
and that night i came into you like shit white latex from canal
greasy hair
and but we have such long legs and smell like fuck
and at this point int’s
pretty pointless
and it’s probably at least
6 months
out. or something
i’m sure...
July 2009
1 post
The pains of birth give way to the painlessness of...
And the dreams of the dead are what keep they and us alive
And there’s nothing more or less
And there’s the waking by screaming
And there’s the sleeping by crying
And there’s the unexplored
And there’s the unsaid
And then there’s the silence where noise once beat a staccato
And then there’s the sound of a million voices all played toward heaven
...
June 2009
0 posts
Upon a shallow raft
Was floated a shrine to pig, the most human of animals
May 2009
12 posts
I am Required By Law... →
Photos re: colonizing another planet
6 Word Novel
This goddamned itch burns. I digress.
(apologies to Hemingway)
Afternoon Moodometer
Today is the first day of the last three weeks, where my moodometer (a series of pink post-its tacked to my desk, with either “no”, “meh”, or “yes” written) has an actual “yes”.
There was one “maybe”, but that was replaced mere seconds after writing with “maybe”.
Truly, a banner day. Cue the marching band.
Count:
10...
Evening; Oppenheimer
And I am become cook, destroyer of meat
Allergy Relief
me: my eyes itch
Steve: rub them with sea salt
also, paprika
serve with a ledge of lemon
or wedge
me: i rub them with my penus
Zen and the Art of Ham Maintenance
Somewhere on the UWS
Also? This too.
Another thing that has been really making me want to rend my garments, gnash my teeth, and stab myself in the eyes with flaming kittens is the entire concept of rewriting code that’s already done “the right way” to some sort of “less than good way” just for the sake of “insert your Enterprise Content Management System here”. Didn’t we have this same...
A Winner Is Not Me
I am really hating c compiler errors. Today, they are the bane of my existence, and with no c sysadmin type, I am hereby dead in water. Today was the wrong day to stop shooting H.
A Winner Is Me
ibid
Hi Dave
You’re an asshole an hero!
November 2008
6 posts
Stolen Text
nuclear conning tower/watch any bodies blow and blow
Miscellaneous; Redemption
There was a marked improvement in the communication today, which is for the better, I think. Anyhow, let’s see what happens, shalln’t we?
This Is What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
I’m sorry.
This Morning, On The Train
After a lengthly discussion about “The Collected Works of Jung, Vol. 9” and Jung’s “Red Book”, I saw a homeless man on the downtown 2 train whom I recognized from the last time I was hospitialized for asthma-related complications. He was brought in by the police, restrained, and tranquilized. I was relaxing at LICH, watching the scene, hooked to gas that allowed me to...
This Is What The Night Will Bring, Probably
Will be drinking, talking, listening, ultimately going home dejected.
