September 12, 2014
This wicked woman had a wicked sonne,
The comfort of her age and wearie dayes,
A laesie loord, for nothing good to donne,
But stretched forth in idlenesse alwayes,
Ne ever cast his mind to covet praise,
Or ply him selfe to any honest trade,
But all the day before the sunny rayes
He us’d to slug, or sleepe in slothfull shade:
Such laesinesse both lewd and poore attonce him made.
Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene (Book III, Canto VII, Stanza 12)
August 30, 2014
We are the revenge of the Poetry Art and we are fighting for poetry ethics against the decadent poets/poetesses who exploit Poetry for their own social rant seeking and for hunting young readers and aspiring poets/poetesses in lousy poetry concerts in bars to be able to fuck them.

We are the revenge of socialist Spanish Poet Federico García Lorca who had been fusilladed by fascist Franco’s bastards. We are the continuing verses of him. Also, you can suppose all us to be gay like Lorca, because all we are against sexual racism. We are the revenge of all insulted LGBT persons around the world. You can ostracise all of us from all communities, but we will continue to write anti-racist poems fighting against sexual racism for putting them in the ass of your rotten morality.
February 27, 2014

is there a better beginning to a country song than this??

I never tried as hard as I could
I’ve seen more than I understood
Like my father who came back from the dead
“I needed just one more drink,” he said

— from Silver Jews, “Long Long Gone

February 3, 2014

Are PDF Files Vehicles of Secret Government Surveillance?

No, probably not; at least, I don’t believe so; as far as I know, no evidence exists to support the hypothesis which has nonetheless become the title of this little poem in prose, perhaps due to the characters’ easy suggestion of a Personal/-nel Data File, but mostly for the shock, and for what happens to what follows: ideas of enforced ubiquity; of ‘the only way’; of the only way to say certain things, unpopular things, at unpopular times, before the recent regreening of our fields; of a feeling too hugely empty of meaning to fail—provided you didn’t run into your tail.

January 25, 2014

Close-up on dead astronaut

(a work in progress)

Close-up on dead astronaut, stiff in a spacesuit,
end over endless fall, the camera circling
closer, making outer space feel cramped.

I’ve been seeing a lot of this sort of thing lately

I come home, walk around outside
in the cold before sunrise, until I get tired
and lay down by a window you shoot me looking through
—all for not appearing in your mirrors.

January 16, 2014


Against my better judgment, I am drawn into an argument on the internet. I write out, then delete, a number of potential replies to a particularly irritating comment about the essential differences between men and women. My typing grows heated, full of misspellings, stacatto. Like a drugged lunatic, I root out my own bad teeth, soft incisors of unclear diction; I push clauses and sentences around in a whirl, trying to wrap my payload of meaning in a cruel casing of the most aerodynamic language. At last, exhausted, I slide from my chair onto the floor. The cursor blinks on through the night, an eye reversed, projecting what it reads, scrolling over and over the single word remaining on my screen, Assholes

January 14, 2014


The night is mild and cloudy. I sit on my porch and I watch the lights of an airplane pass overhead, followed a minute later by the lights of the same airplane, in the same direction, but slower this time; so slow that when I go inside to make dinner and come back outside to sit on my porch and eat it, the plane is still there, seeming to move more slowly than ever.

I have been reading The Essence of Christianity by Ludwig Feuerbach, but I can’t remember whether the essence of Christianity is that the individual directly embodies the species, or that the individual is freed from the obligation to embody the species, or a third thing entirely.

It occurs to me that the first plane wasn’t necessarily traveling faster, could merely have been flying lower.

December 12, 2013

I give up.

What’s your name?

October 6, 2013