Posts

3-18-2022

“Well I lost God in a New York minute, don’t know about you but my heart’s not in it” AWAKEN bluedream at 9pm on the tropical evening where the moon rises - why? and the moon rises - perfect blue the color of a cartoon ocean and the moon mocking white mirror across the reflected rippling of the water.   Stumbling awoke 9pm in the bluedream of white drywall illuminated the color of enveloping curtains, a dream with passages neither below nor above, condemned, thirst and sickness, stumbling in panties and a t-shirt across the carpet, couches too clean, magazines placed like decals, fall, a sliding glass door where the moonlight reflects like water across the room rippling blue in the dreamy sapphire light that nothing else but the mystery can conjure. Try SO HARD and escape it for what? It only returns. Here it is. Welcome back to the dream. Did you flee from it, looking for crystals, but all they did was bleed water like smashed fruit? Did you welcome the light, or are you blinded by th
Post a Comment
Read more

3-17-2022

“But never - never feel like that. I just want you to remember. When you’re alone in their realm, when you’re lost among the halflings and terror, know to the bottom of it all - you will never be them. You will never sink to that depth. I want you to know among the gnomes and cottaging - you’re better than them. And you always will be.” Whatever sun could set across the gold of a yellow brick road reflecting internal like a glass of water before a windowsill until the whole thing shines, glass turning to gold and maybe the dumbest can take it for some shining path, preventing with spears the grasping fingers from seizing it up to covet. “What do you need that for?” they might ask and the animal can say nothing except to invite his own death. Pity.
Post a Comment
Read more

3-16-2022

And on the last day, when death came - what they promised without end continued on limping behind the scenes and the conductor looked around knowing that he had been deserted. All the devils were absent and he was left alone in the Hell he had built for them. Judgement came down from the rafters of the theatre and whistling through the trees, through golden afternoon sunset, was the sickening, piercing sound of justice at least a dagger - et tu? to no one. Judgement comes when utter loneliness leaves the sinner vulnerable to the circling white vultures above. The conductor on the darkened stage, the audience flocking outside the police line, the devils all packed and gone, and the utter loneliness of a failed lucifer - hell, long since locked from the inside, had slammed its iron bars once-final. So the prince and the duchess awoke to the same phonecall the next morning. Far past the honeygold sunlight of mushrooms and honeycomb blossoming in the skull of the lion, the world was cloake
Post a Comment
Read more

2-14-2022

I REMEMBER A PORTAL We could sink, were it not for the wooden skis, by the majesty of it all - on our hands and knees in the crystalline desiccated powder, looking up from the subtle songs of winter that whistle through the trees all around us, it’s unmistakable. This frozen lake, snow powder settled down like the surface of silent waves between the whirling bowl made by the vortex-song softly sang through the evergreens, to look up at the sky - like the scrying mirror, that occult surface which becomes a portal and from that frozen lake we look up - up into water abyss of deep purple and black, up into a thousand stars twinkling deeper and farther than any we’ve dreamed, swirls of cosmic dust and orders of gods and multidimensional stories we’ll only ever hear single tiny facet of…
Post a Comment
Read more

1-30-2022

What they call “worms” as the intestinal lining is shed by the drugs, shorn off in long thin strips of flesh, fleshy like bright red leather, flaking to sink, slowly dissolving in the toilet water, into that black void at the bottom of the porcelain bowl. I’m laying on my back and falling as that red overtakes my vision, crawling in from the sides, red strands like angry grass stretching over the receding white light and enveloping darkness as I fall into the pit. “Where am I?” I’m laying on a cold ground and look about me to nowhere, to nothing. “Where am I?” “You know who I am?” He asks. I’ve seen him - no, it. That sigil floating about the spectrezone at the corner of my peripheral always. I draw his face onto the paper and burn it, still doesn’t purge, elusive. It’s laughing and always there. It can’t speak or laugh, has no face but the geometry of its body. It knows me better than anything. “You’re in Hell. What did you expect?” “Where am I?” “You’re in Hell. What did you expect?”
Post a Comment
Read more

1-26-2022

Water flows down clogged gutters to pool in that half of the lawn left to putrefy in stagnant breeding ponds, sidewalk to the door slick in the bellyfat of toads hopping across to the deepgrass on the other side, an ecosystem already birthed in the first views of the lawn where insects feed on the corpse of a stomped-under “this is disgusting!” as the neighbor lashed against the blight. A couch rots to soil substratum growing in the carpet culturing mycelium while he takes another hit off the joint and shuts his eyes into the moss and moldstained wallpaper melting to birdfeed and ratchew. “Spread it, spread it” offal and cereal byproducts spread on the ground for the mouths of the earth. I’ve seen spontaneous generation firsthand in this house - carbon upon carbon was yoked to dead matter and he took it as his mission to return it, to turn dead matter transformed into putrid matter, composting the impossible one by one. There’s a careful balance to be kept, to manage pestilence without
Post a Comment
Read more

12-21-2021

Whistledrop, thistlepot, and the wonderful stop. I’m flaming upon a hobbitdown, towards dimpletown, on. His voice trails off towards some dark cave door wide open a home with an unlit fireplace and the cobwebs grow over the ruins of furniture and the owner gone, the owner - Like a dance upon lilly windows meadows thistle trembles. “The song goes ever on and on” he explains to no one, his voice cracking and the song unspoken frozen out by the unwelcoming company about. To build a fire. “My life is in shambles” oh there, oh there, did I tell you about the thimbledown countrytown and all the lace of the place about the roppling white river? Alcohol makes a great man small and can lead to a life of crime. “Take it on your lips and a draught of the fire does ye good!” the man laughs his back apart and his spine tingles like swordflame. It’s so cold. “Welcome home!” The fireplace is lit - no, not it isn’t. Why isn’t it lit? Throw the door open, run back outside - rain? Why is it raining? Whe
Post a Comment
Read more

12-8-2021

A broken wheel turning in interlocking gears grinding out brass sparks upon the backs of the sweating workers turning levers in sunless labyrinths of metals upon metals. Men who sleep on stones are beaten to death in dark alleys between the factory walls. Chase locking doors down a perfume river until the sun sets and the portal closes, until Moloch rests his jaw and all the daughters can rest safe (ha ha), until the priest waves his hand and the signal for STOP is given and the men who sleep on stones will never be beaten again. Run out the clock down a perfume river until the sun sets to the final cold and in the darkness we’ll all be equal. Wait for the killing-breath of God to snuff out even the most arrogant lights of humanity and laugh laugh laugh while the wretched are bones in the snow. Kill her kill her kill her and find the darkest place to hide the body and maybe the labyrinth is old enough to find a shadow where they don’t look anymore, maybe there’s a little rotting corner
Post a Comment
Read more

12-5-2021

The color of sundrip down honey burning golden upon Windows XP Bliss hills rolling from my fingers, melted into soil, from my legs, melted into soil, the color of liquid honey pouring down hills in deep rivulets. The color, the color. “I love you” go to bed smothering pillows cotton, look deeply small eyes sink into the pillow, landscapes rolling like hills overlooking the tiny landscape, paper balloons with little passengers in their wicker baskets fairies that say “hello! hello! goodbye!” Someone is going to kill you. Someone is raping you. “I love you, I love you, my sweetest, what color is that? The color of love my love for you piercing I know it hurts, please, I’m just, I know it hurts, does it hurt? The color of pain, the color of love, the color of your skin and my skin. Remember honey. Remember how gold it is? Isn’t it natural. My flesh wetting the bed, I’m pouring, upon you and through you, isn’t it lovely? See the bed, see the landscape staining with my flesh, do you like th
Post a Comment
Read more

12-2-2021

The unshakable feeling that something foundational was lost. I remember looking over the precipice in that early age when the afternoon sun was setting the colors of defeat over the hometown’s narrow market street, an orange dying light I knew I wouldn’t see again until the dawn of my old age. The color of the sunset as Alzheimer’s sets in a decade before symptoms, the color of the sunset of a funeral fast approaching, the color of the sunset settling into nights that last decades - the color of saying goodbye, the color of loss, of the self, of others, the last colors before it all blinks out into darkness. I remember standing on the edge of a cliff knowing when the sky darkened I would have no choice but before God, before the gathering storm, before the dark stars above, before the abyssal cosmos stretching out beyond - I remember when the grass turned the color of stone and the hands from behind made it impossible to say and I held my nose and plugged by eyes and lept into the froz
Post a Comment
Read more

12-1-2021

The fool on the hill, sun going down around the world disoriented and locked into darkness I’m falling stationary, within my body the increasing sensation recursion recursion of the soul going deeper into corner after the corner, the shadow stops at the far end of my room, curtains block the sun, shadow grows at the far end of my room, curtains block the sun, nowhere to nowhere, darkness grows. Darkness at the back of a poolhall bar second floor in the rural no-mans-land where women go missing. Darkness in a car headlights terrified against the night. Women dancing in fire. Darkness smells like warm beer and cheap lightbulbs and unhealed bruises smarting hellish for weeks, months. A CANDLE, as a light, guidance through the forest, orange light spilling out to red then black as it recedes farther out from that fragile little bubble of safety carved about my person.   A CANDLE, as a fire, bubbling on a spoon, cotton soaking into the needle, dark liquid of salvation the only pleasure seep
Post a Comment
Read more

11-29-2021

Terror in the rumbling of the great river I cross every morning on my commute, talk radio a little bit louder, I’m a little bit nervous, shaking it off well into lunch, still nervous, still not totally comforted by the grey and beige. Wine at home, wife comments on replacement of my old beer. Snow is piling up outside. I saw a woman dancing fires atop the hood of my car from the office window. I try to ignore such things. I have dreams after dreams of the river. Curtains pierced by needles, borders dissolved and waters flooding in, deserts springing vital into swamplands. Rolling over in cotton sheets, trying to ignore the pounding rain. Driving through the dark highway, trying to ignore the isolation. Hiding in the hotel, trying to ignore the inhuman footsteps in the hall outside. I turn the radio a little bit louder, crossing the river again on my way to work. I try to sing along and pray it all works out as the river becomes harder and harder to ignore.
Post a Comment
Read more

11-27-2021

Repetition of songs long repeated in the afterlife, strung out and dehydrated a head without water. A Garden of Earthly Delights. Summer haze over the sand sand pours through pictureframes flooding the art gallery choking drowning. Cocaine hangover nightstand music rock n roll “look up here man, I’m in Heaven.” Motorcycle outside Reno desert rolling don’t stop believin into the sunset something in the crankshaft 1978 guitar squealing motors deafening dying smoking outside the beerstained bar and the bitch won’t leave me alone. Death in Wyoming, sickness in Hawaii, sleeping in New York.
Post a Comment
Read more

11-25-2021

I am a shattered vase. Flashing light in the eyes sirens whirring dead between streetlights fuzzing in death-release DMT visions of the world warping and falling to white light and the whole of the world awakens God beckons after crack still echoing between the canyon downtown wet concrete cold in the hot night losing feeling, losing sight. I am a lake of fire. Car squeals top heavy nearly rolling around every corner thrusting my wrist outwards with every trigger pull like I’m throwing punches through the plastic contraption cracks ring out from the centerfiring cartridges flying colors everywhere world melting molly-oil sweat beads doublestrength on the skin of my man and the smell of the iron, the smell of the sulfur, the smell of the burning power liquor on my lips, ethanol burn against the stained-paper of the world. White cloth holes burned in portals to terrorworlds with cigarettes pressed against silken sheets, A Thousand Little Empty Spaces where souls snuffed out and gone to n
Post a Comment
Read more

11-24-2021

Snow howls. The sky is dark. Mute light crunches into the bed of crystalline sand every time you step, footprints vanishing within hours, the wind threatening to scrub you off, sanding and abrading the landscape smooth and empty. We are somewhere hostile to life, neither of the ground nor sky, an aberration against the both absence and presence. I was inside the metal cubes of piped-in warmth and electric comfort when the land was driven up. The snow beneath your feet goes on forever, compacted deeper and deeper. The sky goes up and up, atmosphere escaping, forever. Between infinities of depth, sideways is the only realm we have to ourselves. Particles reform when motion animates the thin boundary between two absolutes. Our human realm between is a world of struggle begetting winds, dunes, crevasses, us pathetic wretches who cling to life in a world that despises even death, despises anything short of a bluntly simple duality. The wind howls hate, the dunes form in anger, as the sky re
Post a Comment
Read more

11-23-2021

Daylight breaks and awake fuck me open split egg-cracked over the rim of a skillet and dribbling down when the lawnmower starts screaming over the summertime humidity jungle forming in condensation raindrops I’m inside a snowglobe emptied of winter cold heating heating heating the petroleum burning and only getting hotter water boils in a glass my sweat is total my skin is red I’m already stewing and liquifying before the day began,10am. Lawnmower screams through the thin siding of the house, lawnmower screams through posters mounted on drywall thin space with paltry fiberglass insulation and plastic trinkets spread across the bedsheet top and particle-board furniture old game consoles and a broken tv and last night’s soda and i reach for another coke and pour it down my throat reaching for something new, something powerful, something cold, a wind blowing to keep me away to deafen the noise to bring me peace. Hot wet grass hot wet trees dry sandy ground muddy water in low points tennis
Post a Comment
Read more

11-22-2021

Picture yourself on a boat on a river. Lucy on the buildingtop downtown looking for spiders. Spiders across the sky networks transmitting something sinister gridlines etched into the globe’s atmosphere, world looking up in awe, world looking up in terror, prices are adjusted dynamically to account for changing market conditions. Lucy on the airport roof looking for spiders. Spiders across the sky silverjets screaming passengers interior gutted to house billions over hundreds. Lucy in the stormdrain looking for spiders. Looking for the ghost of a teenage girl hanging from the underside of a manhole cover over the bottomless pit. Knee deep in rainwater, flashlight shining up at bloody dress, pale legs, cold rainwater pouring into nothing. Someone is rambling to Lucy, Lucy is ignoring, searching. Lucy has been awake for twenty-six hours looking for a staircase to the fluffy white clouds and now this bitch won’t shut up? Following Lucy around. Yammering about something stupid. This bitch w
Post a Comment
Read more

11-21-2021

3pm Sick with the leering smiles of the dragon carved in junglewood dangling off a nail. God Blessed Girl hung around the fake-gilding of the entrance, where the waiter was waiting on his phone, carrying herself bummed cigarettes in her stained fingers, dirty hair sticking out of the underside of a baseball hat, looking eyes dangerous around the parking lot, over the sunlight hot across the reflected steel of the girdered powerlines, railroads down the overgrown trees and high grasses. She smelled like rust and TV static, catching us as we tried to leave. “The fuck are you two doing here?” She caught us as we tried to leave. My brother and I halted, unable to continue past her words. “Afternoon date. In the mood for chinese.” My brother said. “That’s fake. You and I know both know that’s fake. Which one of you is even the real twin? I see you around so often - you’re never apart. You never talk to anyone. I don’t think you’re real. But which one of you is the real one? I can’t tell. It
Post a Comment
Read more

11-20-2021

Orange paneling golden wood perching on vermillion carpet overlooking vaulted windows paned against the horrid day, sky leering through the clouds at the vestige of the old world, the prince returned to the womb.   Sickly light of cloudy day dawn, where grey skies turn autumn morning putrid and stale, air suspending dust like a sandstorm frozen in a single moment, the atmosphere more time than oxygen.   Ancient paper, leatherbound books with pages that crumple to nothing at the touch.   Coat of arms faded, paint splintering into thick air until we can’t remember anything except the metal hanging over the facade.   The prince and his ancestors, incestuous in a retread of old victories, old glories, his living souls suspended in the past like insects trapped in amber. An old house held up by the density of near-unbreathable air, old servants animated by the same occult plasma as ghosts. Ruffed collar stained with vomit. Doctors biting their tongue on an opinion the patient won’t take, st
Post a Comment
Read more

11-19-2021

The kind of afternoon where the sky turns rococo, deep oil tones of pink and gold on blue infinity filtering the sunlight of god while the moonlight of magic emerged from all the little shadows between the shoulders of crowding angels. Tyrant was on his way, predatory-forward stalking down the sidewalks and grass. Retarded baby bimbo queen relaxes on the balcony of her McPalatial McMansion bedroom, where the clouds are all shades of pink and orange, where the sun drips honey-sweet. Tyrant is stalking down the green looking for hard iron and wet concrete. The queen is waiting listlessly losing herself into the sky. Tyrant is stalking down the green covered with dew, his clothes covered with mud. The queen regent is watching the same clouds downstairs, something like their house, fake pillars, behind that same rococo sunset. Tyrant is stalking down the grass letting the music turn into white noise. The queen can’t hear anything over the all-treble mix of her CD player. Tyrant is stalking
Post a Comment
Read more

11-18-2021

Relax on the grass in the end of summer half-heat where the hazy freedom of pure humidity drops all foggy and still over the opiate-latchkey times, relax on the grass with the sun drawn down and blue coming up still illuminated from the horizon, stars showing up gemstones on an ocean’s surface, astral currents running across. Look up from the grassy hill, dew soaking into our clothes, fall backwards, hand in hand. Play a little dance of mutual desire bounced off each other’s defenses. Relax a laughing kiss in the moonless starlight.   I love you, brother. Run with me, through the green turned nightly blueblack, turf grid of cul-de-sac hedgerows and lawns, over wooden fences, alleys with NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH signs nailed on every scrap of post. Run through the emptied parking lots, streetlights on streets no one walks down, paranoid houses looking nervously into the darkness of their two lane roads, lights playing off in tiny moonbeams, teenagers huddled up in bed with the blue light of a
Post a Comment
Read more

11-17-2021

HOME for the time being, what pretends at safety in the tundra, drywall slatted polymerized wooden frame, a hollow body run through with poison and electricity. I have the run of the place, stuck offensively like a tent in the empty, long beyond where the city ends, looking out the window across the plains silent to the horizon. A false home in a permafrost that violently rejects any attempt to put down a foundation like this. White walls and white lights, the illumination so basic it makes your skin crawl. In the rooms we unpack, it feels like the cloistered office of a doctor, windowless, the interior of an egg speckled with personal effects and consumer-grade colors and chemistries. Night falls, out here it’s blackness, grey ground, brown soil, little specks of snow adorning like ashes standing outside, wind whipping ten feet into the backyard so violent to throw you onto the ground. I’m hurrying inside while some mysterious polymer congeals into a more palatable form. Yellow over t
Post a Comment
Read more

11-16-2021

FAR FUTURE, BAJA CALIFORNIA SUR - In empty skies, grey storms of late afternoon, chill of an impending storm descending ominously over the tropical landscape beyond, I awoke alone. Laying still in bed, I could see the shore, a sliding glass door that opened out to descend to the beach, waves crashing grey, a fjord’s foaming break on the sand, the aquarian blue only a distant memory of sunrise forgotten and obscured. Beneath the growing stormclouds, the sun was descending terminally, below the horizon to nothing beyond, no moon, meet the horizon and end of sentence. I could see the tundra stretching beyond the ocean, the desert that gets colder and colder, an Earth without sunlight, the long sleep where we trudge on, awake every last minute as our skeleton is stripped bare in the cold as cold as cold can get, the same pain forever until we forget what warmth is… I’m waiting, watching the stormclouds, waiting for the chaos. Waiting for the world to be without form and void, waiting for a
Post a Comment
Read more