Category Archives: lots of rocks.


[Response to: bzzzzz: Radio…]

Soda Pop, POP, POP
Female, Femininity, Feminism
Scratched out records, PIXIES
Dropped Drop, Click Brown
Fallen Out, Falling 10 stories down through a glass window, OH MY OH MY OH MY OH MY OH DAD
Cracked out, take a hit, want to flip, flip, flip
Free Willy, Home Alone
Role Models, Lost World
burned in the brain, to the membrane, gone insane, take a train, fly a plan
Master Chief be Insane, the horror the horror the horror OH sister
Flat Line, Flat Spine, Crushed



[Response to It was hard to see the garden.]

he was on the bad trip of peace. this and that crawled and a very large thing that slowly changed phases crawled, too, depositing this and that in the bloc’s northeast corner. glacial till housed pounds and sous in yesterday’s buckets. water left it in its stack in the thicket. that was the alluvium in short shorts and a dark tank in a stack by the thicket. a sediment bucket with tics by the habitat pond. (this fly was endemic to the garden.) the garden was coarse, thorough, yet he refused to believe fluvially in its mysterious security. he felt sure he needed to convince somebody guarded of something particular. somebody would want to be convinced by him. but in the film of the catastrophe garden there was a point at which everything wasn’t going to be alright. no one peace was cosmopolitan, wasn’t it?, and no one endemic fly was cosmopolitan, either. flies had shells despite precaution. the garden guarded its peace like a particulate in alveoli. like a grain in upbringing. take shelter in thickets, long rides in cars and baked skin. take shelter in long rides in cars that wipe personality clean.


[Response to: Afternoon drapes.]

I say: is it this already the shine of the already-ate. This is what midnight needs one more set of limbs. I say this is what asks an upside down attention the kind it was hard to spell when you were a kid and long words like upside down sounded like they were hard to spell. Right? Like. I say. It is a nonrepresentational statue of a Great and they do not want it to be shown to them they prefer it would be kept in its own small (degenerate) circle of admirers (degenerate). The necks on that statue. Those awful necks.


[a response to Dis [integrate neighbor] Cover…Duck! BOOM!]

Noon drapes.

Draping a pant on a rail. Peeled a pant off a rail and flecks of paint from the rail sticking to the pant. And peels of paint sticking on the hand from the pant from the rail. And drapes around the eyes. Paint on the eyes as the drapes, and in the eyes the reflection of pant.


[response to: HA/AH-HA^AH*]

MODOK lacks funds


[response to: On edge]

things made possible by the fingertips of enunciated hands. miniscule tears in paper. untying a small animal. a little kid interested in drawing the pouring rain and putting ugly rocks into a box.

my grandmother once said hey don’t dance around in the living room. if you fall on the television it will explode.

that’s what I like to tell the old tree so old it turned itself into worms. I say I know what’s underneath you, tree, and when the stock market comes back up we’ll sure get away from here. believe me. my loyalty is not untried it’s just that your hair is on fire?

that’s what’s called a curve ball why aren’t you taking it? it’s the most important press conference of your life and you couldn’t even come up with a tie. now you’re saying you’ve been reading up on economics and you think you can get your rigidity back. that’s nice but I’ll believe it when the colors get inverted, cracks make wet sticking noises to each other and raccoons stop coming through the ceiling


[response to “Do List”]

I don’t smoke. I don’t need the black

Just the breathe, no smoke.

I don’t make mistakes.  I don’t.

I. I.


Don’t talk to him on Facebook.  You said you wouldn’t.

I would have done this with you tonight.

It’s not the truth, but I think it makes sense.

And I think I might wish you were never there.

Start over:

I did smoke. I started with Blacks

Because they crackle.

I do make mistakes. Make mistakes.

Do. Do. Do.

They feel so good.

Summer air and true words think out right.

On Skype, and in and out.

I’m always doing something tonight.

You can tell people now.  I feel so good just as long as you’re not there.

Last To-Do:

I made a mistake.  Vibrations.

Shared experience.

We kissed on the subway too.

You deleted my number.

A day after we talked on Facebook chat.

Crying notes of a clarinet–I think I may, might,

Let you up in smoke tonight.

[read response: “Melting candles mean nothing none knowhow…”]