Category: poems

huge fists of paragraphs
blog entry right hook, left hook, punchline, kicker
another site bites the dust

the spoils of war,
trackback pings and comments galore
the hit counter rolls over in its grave

Future set significantly far away
So no difficult questions
Sensations entirely different
Eyes enormously dissident

Soul a scrub brush away from heaven
Occult eyes squinting at science
Depth of milieu
Dystopia greener from the present

[ going for quantity here, not quality. ]

I have ideas like salted wounds
words poured from a shaker stinging and
flung over shoulders superstitiously
and if the slug of cohesive thought
were to crawl over those ideas, it would
burn or melt or something, and anyway die
and what would happen to the words?
some no doubt mixed with my blood, would
become part of me, or anyway, dry onto me
like a shell of masochistic poetry
and some would have mixed more with
the burning melting full-on thought
which would also dry to my skin, unless
I brushed it away, wishing for less coherence
as if that were possible

standing in front of the bathroom mirror
naked but for my chesthair
which I have noticed swirls
above my nipples disturbingly
in two places like the top of someone’s head
but twice, and brushing my teeth
I spit into the sink, I think then
looking for the white still left on my tongue
from the milk I drank ten minutes before
but it matches the toothpaste scum
and I can see nothing in there
but the toothpaste scum
that I spit into the sink
where it swirls with the water
clockwise down the drain
like the top of someone’s head

sticky hangman’s knots
pisspore fleshspawn sorespots
like I’m using inkblot eyedrops

all I see are brittle nooses
my paw keyboard-mashingly produces
code-train’s derailed cabooses

media has transformed again for the new millennium
from print to radio to TV and now to web
from reading to listening to watching back to reading
from passive to choosing to be passive
from words to sounds to pictures back to words
but words with pictures and sounds
an exchange of words
from words to sounds to pictures to
conversation

Canned air, a hand-held tape recorder, a box of
Ear plugs, speakers, a letter opener, scotch tape —
Two dispensers, single and double sided —
Hundreds of scraps of paper with
Phone numbers, dates, notes; empty boxes with
Video game instruction manuals,
A motherboard still in box,
Another box full of old Pentium CPUs,
Blank CD and DVD media,
Dust, a fountain without water in it,
A date book, pens, sharpie markers,
Two boxes of checks, a stack of
Return address stickers, unread computer books,
Two keyboards, a mouse, a stack of DVD movies,
3-ring binder, bills, coupons, a calculator, cigarette lighter,
This monitor, post-it notes, (some attached to the monitor),
Five stand-up Budas that Mike brought back for me from Alaska,
A stand-up photo album, two empty
Subway customer appreciation cards,
Unused jewel cases, volume controls,
Cable modem router, 4-port switch and
Wireless hub, empty envelopes — security and “invitation” size —
An unused calendar, set of precision screw drivers,
Worn Bitstream mouse pad, a few random floppy disks,
A poem that I wrote on the back of an opened envelope, and
My wrists.

Networking can mean
conference rooms or crimper cable,
depending on context.

Messages in glass bottles
like ships carefully tweaser-constructed
adrift at sea — but instead of water —
an ocean of other glass bottles.

Messages arrive as if by accident,
a miracle of numbers.
I cross my fingers, and hit send.

I always said I didn’t want to live in one of those
houses that smell like cat piss all the time.

Today that little furry fucker pissed on the bathroom carpet.
I guess he knew what we do in there, just got the location wrong.

If cleanliness is next to godliness, but I don’t believe in god,
where does that leave cleaning the cat box every day?

I picture the commercial where the kid says
“I learned it from you, Dad, I learned it from you!”