Friday, June 19, 2009


change the foam chain in your tuna
salad change the club .night or tic
king in your pillow and I see your
foot am I .bested by the coffin
blazing on my driveway where I
put my head .your sleeve flying
like a branch my lesser comb name
greased with blood like was your
feet .swam home the blame loom
)charred pallet where your wallet sleeps(

All Those Things
- “His nuts on his neck”, Al Ackerman

the gut lock the soak tomb the
lump crimp the sweat pile the ton
gas the nod loop the blister hum
the butt clock the lobe sink the
slam luck the ten blinks the tool
choke the spread heel the slob clam
the neck nuts the tres lúmenes the
bank dandruff the mud tape the sneer
beet the dancing tooth the flat face
the drumming mute the spinning bean the
crotched pistol the gate gnat the shitty
chin the fake arm the blown pool

Funny Guy

the lunch dancer spread its grin and
cluttered up the wall the wall your
flood runs down its apt to all to
mists and toothpaste form doors pal
pitate your floppy one inhales oh
simper in the basement and release the
gas .the tongue days inhale ,float my
trampled grime no indication of the ape
.the gaping salad I dropped my face in

Gas Pole

sheeted in the croak machine torn
a leg blister clouded ham your th
ought baroom spattered on the
fore smat third crystal ,broke the
green form and eggs .spotted what
I ate ,that slurry thing ,booster
seat born too fast I clept into a
cage I freed the gas in there
hand lobe ,tussled drip ,dug the
loop beneath my heel .my shovel
speed and slept


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