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Monthly Archives: November 2021
the word piles
the heebie jeebies (redux) this is about a poet who writes bird poems —without birds appearing in said poems mouth breathers and thirteen year old prostitutes often appear crying artillery shots echo in the blue distance the poet is a … Continue reading
chop my sincerity
Google-Sculpting Metalepsis This is not a planet you want to be on, trying to make sequin of the ineffable. Try the bipedalon,cedar straightaways sprinkle my flaymaker. This is not a planet you want to be on, layering the burrs on … Continue reading
florins for eyewear
The Last Nimbus A nebula forms around my headboard& congeals—a pulsating fathom’s roost. A blinding white flash—great speedwell & arrowhead fall. Encrusted like the lotus-eaters—incubated / intubated / spacesuited /pillows backboned. A pair of florins for eyewear—now set for the … Continue reading
soft and hot
After Gas Huffing Cold in my tent last night—Moved away from the creekCloser to the fire. I heated up the plastic Jesus—Placed it soft and hotOn my abdomen. Cold again this morning—I bit into the messiah—No sign of life. “like … Continue reading
expect the unexpected
Pockmarked … later I get flashes of grandpa with his old runners all rolled up into one giant sticky mess—balled and held together with tape… He’d talk about the high school girls he’d “teach” Bible Study to. They: all spouting … Continue reading
sour broiling turkey
Hegemonic Extirpation Day Blues A litter of puppies feeding in the corner of the living room. Dried shit streaked on the bathroom towels. The, too-early, Christmas tree is canted and some of the ornaments are unfurling their covers revealing the … Continue reading
make anything happen
Pumpkin Thoughtbot Dream Get it together and join up now. What are you doing for fulfillment? Do you hum “fa la la, tra lee dee” much too often, throughout the dark days, the creaking nights, and in your barren dreams? … Continue reading
at the off
Off-News at the Off-Chance at N+7 “I would be really sad if I didn’t write. I think I would feel really purposeless and silent and depressed if I couldn’t write. I don’t know if I would be that depressed if … Continue reading
white bread m.o.r.
Bluetoothing the Novel Maple bacon cheddar pizza, I say, repeating what she just said to me. I need a snack soon, she says. A swoony-jazzy song plays like it’s 1967—remember the smarmy song playing in The Graduate when Bancroft is … Continue reading
flecky eyefuls jaundice
What You Said at N+15 What could I possibly say when you say (backhand): it’s you. I don’t know if you’re talking twang, talking to those radicals, or if you’re addressing me. Somehow, judging by the tonsure of your vole, … Continue reading
Posted in Writing
Tagged Chance Operations, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Dada, Drama is the Opiate of the Masses, Dream Notation, Erasure Poetry, Experimental writing, Hybrid writing, Microfiction, n+15, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Random Sights with Signs, Writing
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