I looked in my bank account
It said, "you have five toilets to your name."
It said, "don’t just sit there. Return fire."
Talking head says, “go to sleep children. You will all be police tomorrow.”
We say: No. We will be the poor.
Talking head says, “ok scumbags, I talked to you like children; now you will be dogs”
“Market Street” is the best two-word joke I have ever heard in San Francisco
“Now I have to teach myself how to pass out sketches and throw pencils at pigeons when I retire”
“I don’t have any friends who would reprimand me anyway”
“Retire to the ocean and walk backwards into the surf
pretending to fight off the weirdly dressed hordes”
—and I used to joke about being underwater.Laughed at the people stealing my cigarettes
Laughed at the people pretending to tie my shoes
“now I have to put charcoal under the classroom and do impossible things with tap water”
“leave the window open so that the most respectful rats will come in and white enlightenment will have something to ponder.”
—oh what machines may come
“I should have never quit heroin,” we all say (all of the time)
we started early.
twenty wagons appeared in a dream I had about the 7th grade.
Pathology needs a god to represent it to children and child-like states
Eat your people today The top of the tornado starts under our shoe soles And touches down on prison farms Bibles offer no explanation But one cool preacher has quite a laugh All looked up at our beautiful shoes
“You still keep that knife in the car.” —the reality is that I am awake and listening to an argument outside half-listening half-fighting alongside —the reality is that I am built to protect religion, but not all of the time
“I was watching her on my hands” “even my imagination just sat there” “the entire crowd did not take a sip for twenty minutes” —the choir is done with you done with all of us
“We call those projects ‘The Jar’” the private said to himself while working on his birthday “backflip and become a man” we said as we aimed “lie down right over there. We hid the beds behind the trash” —the rest of the crash course came in the morning
“like you’ve never seen this card trick before the one where your grandfather appears and throws a couple of people into a fire” —just let it rockslide into that shot glass I should have talked to her instead I threw my whole life away I turned my back on my people, Lord left them for a trip up three flights of stairs now the whole freak show is on the back of my hand including capitalists looking up at the sky
what fascists are determined to do does not scare most people it makes most people bored, but we want our grandparents to survive…
Dear grandfather, I met some bluesmen today. Vanquished them all. I declared, “your lady is with you, but all these chairs in here are mine.”
Before I opened the door to the street
I knocked
And the world let me in
Stumbled outside
And there were miles and miles
Of chalk outlines and window curtains
Littered across the earth’s city
Dear Bluesmen, Now I am deader than you. Please take your seats. —the title of our song
First, I must apologize to the souls of the house
Wearing the cheek bones of the mask only
Pill bottle, my name is yours
Teeth of the mask now
Back of the head of the mask now
New phase of anti-anthropomorphism fending for real faces
Pretending to be a drug addict by day and reading all night
While economists return to rumors of oxygen
Stuck with one of those cultures that believes I chose this family
I am not creative Just the silliest of the revolutionaries Conversing with the psychic middleman Or Wannabe mayor About hating your enemies A little more realistically
Our eyesight returning to red // Notepad swimming to red // Bracing for the medicine’s recoil
I need my left hand back
I broke my neck on the piano keys
Found paradise in a fistfight
Watching the universe’s last metronome
Some have the nerve to call a “homeless teenager”
Just wait… These religions will start resigning in a decade or two Some colorfully Some transactionally In a cotton gothic society
Class betrayal gone glassless // I mean ironically // my window started fogging over too
I remember childhood Remember the word “Childhood” being a beginning
A poet loses his mind, you know, like the room has weather Or first-girlfriend gravity Poem gravity Mind-game gravity Or revolution languishing behind The sugar in my good friend’s mind The difference between me and you Is that the madness Wants me forever
Bright lights behind hyena eyes, I mean, if I had to fall in love today My grandchildren would be doomed
A pair of apartments
Defining both my family
And political composure
Books behind my back
Bail money paved into the streets
Playing:
Euphoria
Euphoria
Cliché
Sharing a dirty deli sandwich with my friend A cosmic tool counted on by scared people Psychology of the mask now Teeth of the mask again