table of contents

The person with oversized hands feels self conscious when the brown shoes fall to the ground and look like poop from a distance

poem audio

There is audio of a poem on wierd deer dot com. It is up with the picture of the monster stalking kids on aim. In the beginning of this poem my voice is quivering like I am nervous. I am sure I was a little nervous t first. But I sound kind of really nervous, but I always do when I start reading. Take a listen and take a look around the site.

elephant on top of the 7-11 looking at the spilled slurpee next to the 7-11

Crying monster stalking little kids on instant messenger

I haven't been here for you as much lately

But there are alot of things in the works. I am thinking about you. I am going to get back at the regularity with this thing. I think I stopped posting everyday when crowbar the black cat moved in. Yesterday I brought another cat, Chief running tears, over to the house. At first chief hid under things and hissed at crowbar and there was loud meowing and someone there said holy shit and I told them not to because I was scared the cats weren't getting along so I took it out on him. Because in all honesty I wanted to say holy shit or not exactly that but something like it. they are doing better now. They are playing with each other and this gives me more time to sit here with you. When it is just me and crowbar he claws at my feet like they are cats and wants to play. Now I can hear him playing in the other room while I write to you.

I put some garbage in a garbage bag and put it by the door. I showered and did not wash my hair. I ate cereal near the heater. I walked back and forth trying to commit to something to do. I looked at the television and turned it off. I turned on a tape in the bathroom while I showered. I will come back for you. I have been busy but I have not forgotten you, and I am returning, slowly.

animal the water between land and burning oil

I find a haunted house at the edge of town, I call you on a cell phone. It rings a few times. I hang up before you answer. You call back a little bit later. I ask you to come out to the haunted house. You have alot of work to do, I know. But please. It is here, I am next to it. Put the address in your GPS and find me. A couple hours pass, I sit and look at the road. Your headlights move light down the road. Your engine feels warm on this cold night. When we open the door and walk in nothing happens. It is dark in here and nothing happens for a little while and we are still scared. Or at least I'm scared and I think about you standing a few feet away being scared also. There is a noise like wood being pulled along the ground. We look in the direction of the sound, a chiar lifts into the air across the room from us. We look at each other and point at the chair. There is a low voice coming from another room. The chair flys towards us, we duck and it smashes into the wall behind us. We look at each other as we lay on the ground in the dark house. The second floor becomes covered in flames, the fire slowly moves down the staircase toward us, the voice in the other room gets louder. Cameras lower from the cieling and images of you and me laying on the ground making terrified faces is projected on the wall. Something is floating through the air above us. It lowers and hovers in front of us. It is a human head, it floats in front of us and looks you in the eyes then it looks me in the eyes. It floats between us. It nuzzles against your jacket bleeding on your jacket. It's brain falls out of it's neck. The head lowers and rests on the brain looking at us. It asks for our cell phone numbers and it asks what's up and where is the party. The entire house is on fire. We run and the head chases us to the door. It hits the wall and flies back into the fire. We run down the path to the sidewalk. We look back at the house and there is no fire now. It is a quiet dark house. I ask for a ride and we get into your car.

Mountain Man Gets a Goat and Moves in the Valley

I used to live on Main St., the one street of major commerce in this town. While I lived there I came to know the beggars that camed out on the street and got change for coffee and snacks and booze on the street. Some of these people were at such a state of neglect that they were very aggressive. Most of them deserve nicknames. Just because they are so individual in this town of many sames.

There is Walking Dude, some people call him suntan man, but he walks around all day most everyday. Sometimes he stops for a cigarette. But mainly he walks around and sometimes he hides his groceries in the free periodical dispenser, those metal things with the spring loaded doors that slam shut.

There is also Slow Walking Lady. She walks very slowly some days, and she shows physical signs of schizophrenic medication. Her real name is Mary. She speaks very slowly. I have heard her say, "Are you a member of the Northampton Buisness Assiciation?"
Someone responds, "No."
"Oh, well I used to get flyers sent to my door. Yeah. Yeah." very slowly, "And I went to the meeting in the building. Have you ever talked to those guys?"
The same person responds, "No."
"Oh really? Oh."
There is also a time when a friend was filming a couple kids on the stairs of a jewelry shop. These kids were talking about things, getting deep into it, nodding thier head and searching for the word. I didn't really understand what they were talking about, concepts and theories of it all, it was all things that are not of daily life importance. But then out of nowhere Mary walks into the frame, and her body contorts into this wierd lean, her hand is all the way out up on the rock building and she is leaning over the sitting people. She pauses, because she does everything slowly, and she says, "Have you ever been homeless in the winter?"
They both pause because they are scared. "No." "No."
There is another pause.
"Oh really? Oh." And she walks off.

One of the people around here is named Mountain Man. His name is Craig or something like that. A year ago Mountain Man had a big beard and was carrying a light wieght around the waist. He wore an oversized green jacket over many layers, even in summer. This man would drink all the time.
I hung out with him on the stoop of calvin coolidge's old office. Mountain Man and Boxcar(thats his stated name) sit there drinking vodka from the bottle and we talk. Boxcar goes on about the war, about the people in the war and the death in the war. When he talks about the war it is very specific. There is mud and bombs and guns and friend's dying and he laughs in between sentences.
One time I brought Mountain Man a beer. One time I brought him a fifth of some whisky. One time I gave him a jar of moonshine. I had the jar for another friend but I saw Mountain Man walking down the street. I was riding in the car with someone, that person was acquainted with Mountain Man. I told the person riding with me to get out of the car and give Mountain Man that Jar. He does this. I watch him hand Mountain Man the jar and then we drive off.
The next day I see Mountain Man and ask him about the jar and he says, "You gave me booze?" and I say, "Yeah, my friend got out of the car and gave you a jar of moonshine." He moves his eyes to look diagonally up.
He says, "Oh I don't remember that, thanks though." And he smiles.
Mountain Man is a very thoughtful person, he remembers some things and he only plays his harmonica alone and he knows one kick ass song and that's it.
Today I saw Mountain Man and he was clean cut, wearing new clothes, walking tall and looking thin. I asked him about things and he told me he got a room here. I am very happy very happy for Craig, Mountain Man I am proud of you.
"I am so glad to hear you are out of the cold for this winter."
He replies, "Yeah. I have spent the last four winters outside and it gets rough. I just gotta keep up the rent." We make faces about the rent and talk about it existing. He touches his jacket and we comment on how cold it is with out body language.
"It's not even winter yet." We laugh. "It's fall."
We talk a bit more then he says, "Gotta go. Bye."
I wave and say goodbye. I look back over to the person I was talking to before and I celebrate a bit. I watch Mountain Man walk across the street and when he is in the distance it is true that he looks like anyone else walking down the street, walking down the street and not sitting on the street or sleeping near the street.
I am very happy for Craig, I think it is Craig, Mountain Man. I played video games for a little bit tonight and even after that I was in a good mood. Most of the time after video games I am empty like I want buttons. Then I can't do anything but attempt to sleep. But not today, Mountain Man carried through. It is a monumental day for the world. And it isn't that great and it is nothing. But wow is all.
Once I saw him sleeping next to the church in the afternoon. There was a workout bike next to a dumpster nearby, I rode the bike as quietly as I could. I took a quietly looked at the garbage. I walked back up the path and it was hot and he was in the shade of a tree.

there is a quarter a closthepin a angel and some nail clippers on the cd on the table

The banner in front of the church lost half of it's support last night. I went by right when it got dark and it was all up, bannering. Then later, on my way back, half of it was loose and it was folded over itself in the wind.

The more I look around on the webpages around here the more impressed I become with what is going on right now. People out in the world, spread out, are writing so well. And everybody is similar in the thrust of nothingness and emptiness and unsure. And there is lovely images out there and so many styles. It is more hidden then the gamer cults because there is less money involved. And there is more cammo involved with the writing world out there.

I don't really know. There isn't that much around right now. It has been empty around here lately. I am looking around and ready to jump in everybodies lap. It's alright. I like the way things are going. I like that things go without any effort from me. I like effortless. I forget that, I love the ease. No problems, even when there is problems. And no detatchment. Fuck detatchment. That shit is like a small berlin wall that no one outside imposes. This is my church. The internet isn't my church. You are my church. Pardon me, but you are my church and I like to tell you that. I sit in chairs alone in a room and think about you with empty cups around me. All of you. That is one way I think about myself, by thinking about you and us. This isn't romantic, really, I mean it straightforward. I am like velco, because I come undone when things get heavy. I am ripped down and pinned to the sidewalk. But I return. I promise I return and I am glowing for you.

I have been changing my shirts alot. It may be because of the season change but it could be related to some kind of pathetic way I tell myself I'm lonely. I don't know. I don't mind being lonely, but this doesn't keep me from the motions of my underneath letting me know I am lonely. Some things taste good.

There is alot of room in my room now. Outside my room there is a bush touching the path that leads to the garage. It is not my garage. Someone else has all access to it. People may have been hammering gutters on the garage the last week or so while I was sleeping.


Bill Murray is a pussy,
he never called me
like he said he
would. I am lonely and Bill Murray isn't calling.
I think I will play a game on my cell phone so if Bill calls I will be pissed because he interupted my game.

The breakdancer stalls midmotion on the cardboard
on the dock near the river where the light reflects in the water.

The dog floats down the river and I cast my fishing line towards it.

But I miss.
It smells like phone tag.

I bring a fish home to you
and hope it is as good as a dead puppy.

awake baby on a horse sleeping on the rug

I wish to let it go so much and then something is in the way and I quiver with anger where there is no one around I think of you and I wish to let go

this empty store is just like us
and we pay homage and declare and collect change
smiling towards one another
saying what we always say
for the heck of it or the sake of habit
we continue mimics and praise ourselves quietly for our mimics
it is the things we distinctly know not to talk about in public
these revealing moment
the child sits in front of the television
learning about things like explosions and sensationalized celebrity death
the child breaks a glass object and hides it
the child finds a penny and talks about it
and continues to look for money on the ground because there is
nothing else to do

I ask you to cut the ribbon unless you’re ready
a clerk at the mattress store paces between beds
then steps from the floor to a mattress and from the mattress back
down to the floor as a customer enters
as expressionless face surrounded by people speaking quietly

because some things burn without trying
and some things gets caught in the blaze that is four miles long
moving toward more residential
the residual emptiness tastes bitter in the flow of movement
and engaged action I hold an object above my head and scream
for all of us or so many of us lost
among the rubbish and debris near the metal canisters
spread throughout a city we blend into our pity for each other
in this cannibal lifestyle of the socially adept

the intercontinental heavywieght wrestling champion just instant messaged me and I'm all nervous now

I part the curtain and look outside, there is water dripping from the leaf to the dirt. And there is water dripping from the leaf to the metal door to the basement. There are a couple old lawn chair in the back yard but they are full of leaves.

By this I mean I didn't do much today.

The items are taken down from the top shelf. They are placed on the bed. Some smaller things are taken out of boxes and put into a slender plastic container that fits under the bed. Some of the smaller objects get put in the trashcan that is rolled out to the curb. I think the garbage truck is coming by right now.

I think about you and sit on the couch. I eat a few noodles from the pan with a plastic fork. There is half a clothes pin on the desk, the metal clip is under the desk clasped around the other part of the clothespin.

Corn still hasn't come back, this is a picture of him on top of a microwave on a cloud:
Right now I have been trying to stay cammo in everyday life, so that most people don't know I write or do anything like that. Alot of social interaction is a satire of itself. Over and over again. Sometimes I get scared and over react. But most of the time it is alot of jokes one after the other, and they aren't funny jokes. They are kind of fucked up and offensive but everyone keeps laughing, because there is nothing else to do.
Mostly I find myself gravitate towards people involved in daily life without art or creation or any of that. Well, there is creation, but it is different and less intended. Like when someone catches a linedrive from forty feet away, and they are defending themselves by catching the ball that is moving towards them.
Sometimes it seems like the garbage can is full after one piece of garbage. Then, after that all the rest of the garbage just repels from the garbage can to the floor around the garbage can. I miss you, you know that, right? I mean I know we haven't seen that much of each other lately, if at all. And it is meaningful to me that you are somewhere else right now.

My coworker Jon came in at 4 am a few months ago, he looked really sad that night and he bought 4 coffee cakes,

“By the end of the month we should be through it
I don’t know, you know, there is that one guy she likes and drinks with. I told
her, I said, it’s either him or me, and of course went with the abusive

I don’t know, like the other day our daughter was in the liquor store
and she asked my ex-wife for a Red Sox cozy, you know those things that keep your drink cold. My ex asked my daughter why she wanted it and my daughter
said it reminder her of me. To that my wife said absolutely not.
I don’t know.”
we must go through this,
we must go through this,
we must go through this and I know that it hurts.

and I am sorry,
but this is it.
a bit of disappointment,
I know.
but it’s not so bad.
and it is soo bad.

our human stories are great.
give me an order that is what it is and nothing else
or else I will cry in the sadness of us
and the cruel gestures we exchange.

there is no need to struggle
in the destination.
I smear my pain on my skin and wear it under my clothes.
how do i hide what you hide?
the sun is coming up behind the mountains.


All of Collapstrophe is viewable at

here's few pages of a early draft of On Earth Through Nothing With Ease

we spent all night looking for a good time and here we are
after it in the clothes with empty wallets
it is quiet while someone looks for some music
colored lights through etched glass
superficial conversation on main street in the afternoon
party whistles are our religious horns
caution cones in the street
it’s nice to simplify things until there is understanding
but it is a complex dance with moments of flight and playing dead
the bar holds elbow glasses and bottles someone in here is humming
the owl sleeps for fourteen hours waking periodically blind in the light
when I return from the park I understand I have been at the park
and that is how I learn
crowbar in the couch by the window
someone goes to the cupboard
a hand grabs a plastic plate
the plate touches wires on the table
sneak out
for a little while
these days feeling an emotion in public will
bring trouble or sympathy
a deer standing on it’s head spinning
it’s a pretty simple scam
we want to benefit from each other
but it isn’t as hard as it seems
I love you everyday
even though outwardly I am angry and frustrated with myself
in life we are of common cause no matter what
our common cause brings conflict
jaguar on a zebra in an open field
the isolated satire each one of us is
it is a vortex
it is a compost
whales converse deep below the surface
who wants to know
the bone in the hand hits the bones on the ground repeatedly violent
I will drop it for you
I’m not hot on the trail of anything I’m just looking around
self service
sometimes it’s okay to start the fight
because it’s already begun
it’s just under something
the monster without horns lays down in a cave near a cliff by the ocean
the TV behind them shows boxers nudging one another around the ring
with arms angled around each other almost embracing
the door closes and we can see where the burn mark continues off the wall onto it
you look like hell
oh well you shoulda seen me yesterday
quarters saved for the gumball machine
the birds and the motors sing together
close up there’s grease and inconsistencies on the skin
around the gas cap taken off the truck and moved
back onto the threads
he cuts out a yearbook photo and offers it to the altar’s candle
the shape of a piece of sidewalk removed from the whole
jacket over a batman t-shirt
a police car pulls up behind us and turns on its lights
purse straps between breasts against a shirt
the shape of grass surrounded by a mix of gravel and dirt
far from the year this bike moves quickly without brakes
could be
falling off the boat
into the water where the fish move through algae and debris
I take the gifts of my daily life
return return
to ease the bitterness
the simple ease
I had a dream that interrupted the show where i lived with ease
carefully carefree
I woke to an explosion in the water
the seed is placed in the hole and covered with dirt
a cat walks on the mound it leaves paw prints then rubs against a tree
comfortable with the slippers taken off
it isn’t enough just to touch something
it’s not enough
taste the color of the candy
and wonder why we look so empty
it’s pretty interesting
a naked couple strangling each other as they fuck
powerfully and dispassionately
we have a build in surge protector
that keeps up from getting overpowered
prayer pyre we are slowly saved from the fire by the fire
have no fear here the scary is the water we are born in
from the yellow barrier I can hear a marriage and a motor and a tide
there is the sound of small animals on trees and in the air there is a quit cloud
it’s nice it’s near machines and shining arm in a sling
this injured thing that crawls away to die
there’s an American flag
here that is about even
height with the street light
someone behind me is getting in his
car and driving towards
the street the car
drives between the flag and the
street light
I am writing this letter leaning over the arm of my car seat
I know it doesn’t mean much but it explains a lot
like most most boring details in the mix
escape into the world with me
fiery cars on the side of the road
a bomb that almost killed every one of us
he goes off into the mountains with the gun hanging like
a purse between the wrist and the waist
on the screen Bruce Willis talks into a phone
in the audience a four year old boy stands on his feet and repeats
“yippee ky oh ky yay mother fuckers”
four dark rooms next to each other and connected with bricks
and around here this is about as holy a place as
we’re gonna find
we think too much to be solitary in the wilderness these days
we cling to civilization and repel each other
trying to control one another because we are unable control ourselves
I sit alone and speak
and worry you will be able to tell how much I talk to myself
when I talk to you, catching you at an inopportune
moment and interrupting something important
or at least more important
for right now
nobody knows me I see to that
and I only cry on the phone with my parents
every once in a while
when it weighs down the cheek onto the collar
I jumped up and gave a moth a high five
and it dies on impact and spiraled down to the concrete
I am the hidden power of the suburbs
she sings karaoke on the pedestal and he
dances drunkenly around her mouthing half the lyrics
looking around
all of this is hostile territory
where you can buy things and set them down
and turn on the TV and the remote
still gives something gracious
and that hardly ever changes
but we accumulate habits
and panic between habits
and fill the time compulsively
in fear for our something
we move between aisles
exchanging words and looking at the spines
of books on the shelves
it’s one thing at a time for now and carry on
and move beyond there is a secret
on a secret like cell phone
coving each eye and obscuring it all
this it it it is lurching forward and pumping in the metal box
lean lean and regret that is what the bench gets
paint paint and power washings that is what the wall gets
and what about us what about us….stuff stuff stuff
that self destructs
people pay for plots of land on a planet in out galaxy
I look over to you and laugh
Most of it feels like a joke
When we don’t want to find out in front of people
I return I return
and I am different
I think you still recognize me when
I return
and I have changed completely
death has been here the whole time and I miss you
oh well
being comfortable is not the most important thing
the trees have leaves with light it’s the top leaves
leaving shadows on the bottom leaves
in partial light
I was looking for you and I didn’t tell you that till now
some machines are bled
some machines are blessed
some machines are distraction
a black bird with an iridescent head and yellow beak
flies between power lines between a tree and a stop sign
four small birds land on the asphalt and jump around
pecking the smallest parts of food left over
i step from one step to another
you are a door
here the rust is on the poles that hold the streetlights
and other places too
and rusty things get replaced
and we can relate to a lifespan
when i am alone
I am pathetic repetitions
I am petty over examined
oh well
the car backing up over there is beeping
like an alarm
a body wearing glasses
drives a car past
some squirrels
climbing up the side of the tree
to the storage den
above the ninth branch
dry cleaning hangs on a hook in the vehicle
someone is coming
footsteps on a wooden floor
single beep in a dark room when a button is pressed
a panel lights up near the wall
the internet is on the panel
some search site
i realize there’s a lot out there these days
but it too deceivingly small and ridiculous
it is too violent and boring for a human mind to rely on
i know it is long days in the hot and lusty but
it is worth when it happens to remember in this
world of too much that this world is not enough this is pretty nice
don’t get me wrong we have come a long way but please
there are more rewarding relaxations in life
we are nothing special but we have the ability to understand and examine and leave artifacts on purpose in public
i don’t know so i try to find things one at a time and forget
just as fast sometimes but not always and sometimes it all comes back
forget it
here is a little hesitation in the question
how do you spell that again
I placed my hand on the shark then my hand touched the water as it sank
there is no proper way to live
there is no conspiracy
don’t worry
it’s all a hoax
and placed the book on the table and began to cry loudly
the water boils and it is not enough on it’s own
if you trust it there is still no definite outcome
the horse takes off over the hedges and makes a sound with it’s throat
the plastic cup sits on the table
we sit with it
empty along with it
how’s the new thing going I forgot what you called it the other day
I don’t need you like I used to I am glad you are far away right now
the individual garbages melt into one large lumpy thing
it’s easy to forget it
the walk down the hall is usually meaningless
but that doesn’t mean there is no hope
the curve
it rains in the dry land
the residual dust disappears
the water appears clear as it drips she enters the room looking for the light switch
bulb blink
to steady glow
grow into something casual there’s something missing here
as usual
and look at it
while standing up
and standing still
if I could only remember it
the window three stories up
fire extinguishers are everywhere
and we copy them and are often afraid of the fire
this little building off the highway
where there are two bathrooms
and spots on its tile
you walk across this
admiring the lazy style
may arms are waving in the air
and the train is coming listen
a cow near the forest
light the hut stay standing
pass out in the truck
if you want me to drive just say something
all these little stains are mistaken for bugs in the periphery at one point of another
I take the useless and find a way to fear it
when the slowly slowly moving is not enough distraction
to survive on a pair of shoes on feet walking in a circle
he leans off the edge of the dock peeing on a burning boat sinking into water
who do you call
who do you call when everyone is sleeping
I leave you a message of a couple sentences
my voice offers no urgency or desperation
I am sitting in the parking lot of McDonalds farting and laughing to
myself as I eat fry after nugget
something someone has said to me
remains in my head and it is louder than everything
echoing and getting louder
I was four the first time it happened
the light was on and I was in bed trying to sleep
helicopters over the city covered in blinking bulbs
the pole between the car and the white truck
the fixtures in the diner covered in dust
and swaying in the gusts that come in when the door opens
come in
come on in
I mean I refuse to hold your hand or lead you to the door
but I will grab a paper towel or something
if I can help
we gotta understand these things first hand
I hear about it and kind of forget it
and am never reminded of it
and that was a good story too
I remember the painfully empty everydays everyday
it is embarrassing
just that I pace so much
when I am alone it is embarrassing slightly
and I go to the same websites over and over
I still have love for you
and I hope it still means as much
in the digitally compressed file
a ship in the ocean with water going into the air around it
a ship in the ocean with water covering the deck and fish in the water
a ship nest to the fish slightly under the surface of the ocean
in a convenience store two people don’t have enough for condoms
one of them suggests the pullout method
and walks over to the cooler
opens it and grabs a water
a hand putting money on a counter
the pocket on the shirt of a clerk in the bag counting boxes
and a rams hat
in a bag on a bench outside the bus stop
the pitiful hand off
here is the window i first saw you through
I thought you looked magnificent and i just sat there waiting
the grocery store closed at midnight now
someone wakes up and pulls the covers off the bed
touch this metal on the counter if you want to
it is yours after all
this is yours after all
this is ours after all and i am staying into the afterlife
glowing bugs fill the air around us
the body in pajamas goes upstairs thinking of someone from a couple of days ago
what was that
oh nothing nothing nothing
the raft on the river is going downstream
the people in the raft are waving flags others are rowing
the axe has been at the bottom
it is nothing but rust now
and now it is nothing
the laughter behind the door got lively
but then does down again
Bruce Willis is sitting in the fifth row of the quietly dark theatre
watching one of his daughters perform in a high school play
a naturally mummifies body lays on the ground in the jungle
thousands of miles from the city
watching a squirrel run around the tree then into a hole in the tree
reminds me a multi-dimensional universe
and I fly up until the planet looks flat
and perfectly round
I fly up until the galaxy looks flat
and surrounded by other flat galaxies that we can
go inside and find the details
of the planets and their landscapes
someone hands someone a nightclub flyer
continues walking
and offers flyer to the next person nearing
a jungle with natives standing in it
a native with a headdress of grass
standing in front of a camera
the camera man grabs the gold pendant off the native’s neck
where did he get this
where did you get this
where did you get this
shaking his fist and getting slightly closer
thin stripes of blue come through thin clouds
you look beautiful in this light
and if you do not like direct light
I will angle the mirror for you
and this light will find another way to you
someone nears the door and knocks
please please
do not take the darkness from me right away
because it will return and i will not know what to do with it without you
people of many ethnicities walk together through a park
this part of the earth where the body turns to dirt below
come on up
I stab each electronic gadget I own
someone kicks a stump out from beneath the man hanging in the tree
he hangs a little while tensing his neck and trying to breathe
kicking his legs and not screaming
we share a sad history
a cannon shot in the forest
I think it isn’t that bad but it is too damn repetitive
the village burns to the ground
we burnt it there
or we watched it later on the news
this is a disconnected world
I have wanted to cry all day
but I have denied that impulse so far
and it is so tough to tell what will bring the breaking
so I’ll carry my body along and live through
and shut off nothing and attempt while incapable
the laptop screen lights up the front seat of the police cruiser
a truck blows a tire and sits under the super cell storm turning into a tornado
this kind of light that hides in the artifact when it’s buried
it is a handshake in the afternoon on the path to the park
we need more than this and it is us to make it
the television actress watches herself
sing in a low budget music video she
sings to us for our money
someone had an idea of how things should go
and sat and thought about how things should go
and walked out onto the porch and looked and the things moved slightly
in the various forces pushing things into motion
and dreamed immediately
and began to run attempting to jump off the planet
into space
quiet hotel across from the nightclub in this town of
a couple thousand people
back door closing slowly and some smoke going into the air above
the ashtray
a mother flips through catalogs walking through the living
room and finds her son passed out on the floor
between the tv and the couch
the tear moves pretty
fast down the cheek
thins slightly on the skin
then it is absorbed by the sleeve that wipes it away
we’ve gotten ourselves into a tough spot
one of the tires is up on the snow bank
one of tire spins just above the ground
take this
if you’re thirsty
I think we have some crackers somewhere
a woman stands in a long
the fabric pulls
on the shape of her body in the wind
she puts one hand on the wooden fence and leans onto her
toes trying to see the cleaner
lift the filter from the water
and drip a bit on the concrete
the rock that makes the river rapid
is something of a role model
the basketball in the pool
floats near the naked body
splashing the dog
in explosive patterns
with fast movements of arms
a body rises it slips and falls it rises again
it slips and falls while it’s rising
a shoe pulls gum from
the sidewalk
the sun finally turns another night in another morning
these hours are intolerable and unhealthy
but this is my bulk email to all of us here today
it says I am so sorry that this is not more personal
but I know there is no way to learn anything without being
here with you spread across some time and miles
that is forever carry on we are here forever
regardless of the time and the nothingness
helmet bodies decay and here we are forever
or at least a little longer
while the last empties with ease
we carry on in each other
pass it along pass it along

here are some of the last photos of cornballflake

this one is corn looking through the window while everything inside reflects on the window

this one is the ship of missing kittens next to a cactus in the desert some of the kittens inside the ship can see those clouds the pink spots are bubblegum in the sand

this is the six foot tall remy martin bottle i took out of the box next to the couch in my dream corn was in this dream really he is under the couch but I didn't draw him there

this one is me and corn and the neon reindeer on halloween I am dressed as a yellow glove and corn is wearing a devil costume and a red high heel and the neon reindeer wrapped itself up like a loaf of bread it's neon still comes through a little and it makes the neon reindeer look striped the neon reindeer tried to take this photo from my hand after I took it

this is the window reflecting everything inside without corn in the window

I'll tell you everything an look at my fingers while I tell you

The water moves inside the dishwasher and I can hear it from here. I really was lucky to get a dishwasher in the mix for such a reasonable price in this area. When I got home tonight, as I walked across the porch, I called out CORN! and nothing happened and I laughed with the reverberation of me laughing lasting longer than the laugh. While the laugh echoed slightly I thought about when she said "you can have my number you know", and I laughed and looked in her eyes. Later, I walked away.

I think it is funny tha people have blogs and don't put anything about themselves in the blogs. I'll be honest loook at Ron Silliman's blog. I look at it and I scroll down the pages and read through some and go to some links. Mostly I go to it becuse it has a great link list. Through this list I found Tao Lin's blog. On Tao Lin's blog I found Noah Cicero's blog and Ellen Kennedy's blog. When I read Ellen Kennedy's poetry I CAN'T help but think about Mr. Kennedy. Mr. Kennedy is a professional wrestler currently on the Monday Night RAW show. Most of what I know about the inner workings of a corporation I learned from watching professional wrestling. This means I don't know much but the parts I do know are wierd and useless, and that fits in. The mic lowers from the rafters:

Mr. Kennedy.


I know I am still trying to get on your goodside, but, and,I have to be honest. I just got home from a party. At this party, as I entered I screamed. I may have screamed WOO but I don't remember. I just switched the batteries on my wireless keyboard. While I was at the party I screamed. At one point someone told a friend of mine that I should stop screaming. I went to that friend and asked who told him that. He tol me she told me that, and pointed. I went over to her. I said, do you really think I should be quiet? She said nothing and made a facial expression. I looked in her eyes and said nothing. She denied that she had said that. I said WOO. The party responded, WOO. Then, I walked away and thought about Ric Flair sitting in the locker room looking at his towel as he sits on the bench. Ric Flair is a professonal wrestler that says WOO when he gives his opponent the knife-edge-chop. The crowd responds. Really, whenever any wrestler gives a knife-edge-chop the crowd goes WOO because that is how charismatic Ric Flair is. Chris Benoit used to go to the top rope and move his thumb across his throat, like he was cutting his throat with his thumb, before giving a flying headbutt to his opponent. When he chopped people, thecrowd said WOO.

I just went and got some water and didn't close the drawer that the water was in, but the fridge door closed it for me.

About me: the angel is facing the nail clippers on the old pay check on my desk next to the empty 8 oz pepsi can on the wooden chest next to my bed that is covered in red sheets and a plaid comforter

I love that the bed has a comforter. A comforter is something a have on my bed next to my stuffed dog, Kooler. Sometimes when I look on my leg I find a flea that is left behind from Corn. I am the zebra bursting out of the lion from inside and becoming one bad ass Zebra that other lions can still eat and get full on. I wonder what it's like to fall asleep so easily. I looked down at my arm while I was peeing earlier and I thought I had bruised my arm, but now I think someone gave me arm hickies while I was dancing at the party. This is probably not true. While I dance I tend to put both of my arms in the air and point diagonally away from my shoulders. This is something I learned from professional wrestling. When I go to the party I go there like a wrestler. I cut promos in people's faces and sometimes I get put in a headlock.

The clouds moved behind the mountain and the car moved on the road cutting through the cornfields in the valley near the ice cream stand where the cows sleep nearby. I thought about you while I drove tonight. I thought about you from when I saw you earlier. It was good to see you. It was good to talk to you. I am so bad at initiating talks with people from across distances. Sometimes I like sending text messages because I can send a little poem. Some of the most heartfelt and personal things I have ever written were text messages. Sometimes I lick my hand and smell my saliva on my hand.

It's not that I miss you. It is just that I am sad, a little, while I live alone. I am resigned to the way time and distance works on a minds ability to remember someone. I resign. I resigned a few months ago. I just think it is important to remember each other, and I know we all do, just in this scared and worried way. So I think it is important to make public those hidden loving feelings trapped inside the building in the middle of civilization. I look at my hands and there is small cut on my hands I didn't notice before, it looks like the kind of cut you get from glass. I wonder if I bled. It's like no matter what I do all I can do is esape from thinking about you out there on the earth. Eventually I start thinking about another one of you, but some of you stick around. I am glad there is no blog workshop where people question the use of pronouns, and you can't say anything. That is a nice thing about blogs. But you are always there and that is what keeps me alive, that's all. I touch my arm, I roll my sleeve up over my shoulder and think about rocking horses in a room with you, where you have a window over your head and some pieces of snow are coming from a small gap around the edge of the window. I know a little bit about entertaining you, I learned it from professional wrestling. I know some about loving you openly. Mostly I know how to be honest with you. I know how to scare some of you off with too much honesty right away. But you know, if after a long time, when I have not seen you for years, I will welcome you. I have a place for you.

I wrote this for you while watching wrestling

I do not know how to call and that is why I sit here crumbling up this paper bag and folding it a couple times and tossing it into the red garbage can next to the black lamp

I put on a shirt and walk across the room to the mirror. I walk back across the room
and take the shirt off and put another on and walk over to the mirror.
I can see your light through this pollution and these miles.
Someone drives a car and looks through the windshield
while two passengers on cell phones smoke cigarettes and
talk about things that have happened recently. Water moves over the rock,
touching the rock. A hand drops a pan in a sink.
The ocean splashes on the boat and I dance nearby and look over at you.
We begin to dance together in a small room by the speaker. The strobe light
flashes at the empty party and I walk with you on the asphalt nearing the patch of grass.
You walk on the yellow line in the street and I walk behind you and put my hands
on your shoulders and we both walk that line, and I tell you
not to look at the line but to look ahead. You look up and stumble
while I hold onto your shoulders so I stumble with you and I am glad
to lose my balance with you near the tree with the swing swaying
in the breeze that carries these leaves towards us while the clouds
move in front of the moon and it gets darker and I grip tighter
as we walk, but no worry. No worry. The large animal jumps from the tree.
I run over to it. It slashes my skin and my shirt
and my headband and my hair moves in the wind.
As I bleed I look over to you and I try to tell you with my eyes
that you are worth protecting. The animal knocks me to the ground
and stands over me. I swing a stick at it and scream and look into it’s eyes.
It bites my neck and you throw a rock that knocks it out, still biting my neck.
Together we open its mouth with our hands. I roll on the grass, come here please.
Lay here with me. Please. There are birds flying through the clouds. Let’s watch them.
The grass is wet and bloody and I pull you in and lean on your skin with my clothing.
The light shines through the window. There is a wind chime hanging over a porch.
I go to sleep on the couch with my elbows on my knees and my hands on my chin.
The baseball players sing along with the recording of the national anthem
holding their hats over their hearts.

Ha ha hah hahahhh ha hah

I think I am starting this blog because my cat Cornballflake died. I mean sure there are other smaller reasons, like I want to talk to you, and I am bored, and I dont have enough food to just sit around and eat all the time. Well, Corn. I would say sometimes. What are you doing buddy? I would look at him walking so close to the floor and I would crouch and think of catchers and touch corn's fur and try to follow her as she walked around. I got used to talking while I was alone living with Corn. So now I am ready to tell you.

I am also putting poems in here. Because I have alot of them, and I have been hiding them, even though they are addressed to you. I miss you and that is why I am starting this blog. I hate blogs almost as much as I hate poems. I am really good at backing out of things though so we will see how long I last. I guess really I am starting this to show you my poems, and I try to hide that with something more emotional.

Sometimes when I walk up onto the porch and reach in my pockets for my keys I still see Corn walking up in the shadow where she used to knead on the rug of a person that lives in the building that I live in.

About Me: on my desk there is a belt next to a stack of discs on top of a pay stub and a one dollar and a two dollar lotto ticket that touches a corkscrew and some instructions for a chin up bar that i haven't put up yet my cell phone is charing on this desk and i have a couple little tiny figures with wings that i found about nine months ago

A friend of mine that lives in my hometown in Virginia recently had a brother that I had met a few times get in a car crash alone. My friend has sat with his brother as he works through his coma. Today I cried a little while I drove alone and held my cell phone in my lap.

Now my head is leaning against my fist and my elbow is on my desk.

But it's not so bad. I ate two goldfish crackers when I was laying in bed last night. I've still got my stuffed animal and I had a good poop today.

The grey person returns home to find the kitten has turned into a catperson.