life
is
a
game
of
hide
&
seek
w/yr
own
skeleton
as
soon
as
yr
born
it
starts
counting
&
you
learn
to
crawl
&
walk
&
run
from
it
all
you
ever
do
is
a
form
of
hiding
from
it
until
one
day
no
matter
what
land
yr
in
how
big
yr
house
is
no
matter
how
many
sticks
of
furniture
you
own
how
much
horsepower
the
engine
is
no
matter
what
yr
uniform
yr
bones
will
finally
find
you
tap
you
on
yr
shoulder
&
you'll
become
IT
This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.
Blog Archive
-
▼
2010
(103)
-
▼
May
(28)
- give me the one-way chute
- when it's yr every third thought it makes you yawn
- one day yr bones will tap you on the shoulder
- sink in the fangs
- all my life i've given nods to nothingness
- one finger unsalute
- manure & the other side
- give me a one-way chute
- my moments are a string of piss stained empty cups
- the same song forever
- ironically it's the only thing holding it up
- in the hands of the clock
- no voltage in the soul
- my definition of hope
- loveless
- today the void is a pearl
- mightily & voluntarily
- the middle man will break yr heart everytime
- the unamerican dream
- tonight i cannot recall
- where i live now
- primarily a scar
- the myth of the blood red tattoo
- if only they could see my insides they'd run
- gradually you realize there's a dead dog strapped ...
- once a lovely hole to wholeness
- madly dancing in the furnace
- the grass & the children are green
-
▼
May
(28)