Plain American Language

I cut a sliver/of WC William's finger
and placed it inside/my philosophy...

Thursday, April 14, 2011

#13: Rain (rain rain rain all day long)

A dance on the garden for three days
rain you are my Rubix cube of night
tell me once again why, on facebook,
your relationship status says single
when my eyes married the sky and
your blackened clouds. I expect,
in the middle of August, you'll
be gone--flightless fox of April.
Let light carry you away moreso than
sour memories of no-fun Sundays; let light
break you apart like exhalations

#12: Rhyme (this was a lame-o rhyme...)

Last night she Topeka
Tonight she'll tell her secret.

Sunday, April 10, 2011


Knowing full well that the earth, lizard crawling
on a tilted axis,
would spin upon the sight of her
would that the earth would spin at the sight of her.

She controls the pits of him
the riptides and pools of him
the entrails of him the trails of him
how they blink, would that they'd blink
and set wind lauding the bricks and windows
of city buildings, wings that spin circles

City of spinning circles, would that you
Would, in light of love, int he light
And love would contest not
of its amber vision again,
that is to say, its amber vision is the power
that fills the canyon river and paints it amber.

II (#9, written by people on the street who were kind enough to write something, and a little weirdness at the end)

I would like a life
full of Love

full of expectations, dreams
and hope above all

with trees, rivers, dogs and rain

In a world with trials and tribulations
I find myself searching
Looking for an answer

There once was a girl
who had the whole world.

My most favorite never
have what elephant
Butt: big crazy asophagus
Cherryblossoms, see.

#8: Observations & Anomalies (written at 826DC)

There's a musk ox on the crate!
Parasaurolophus--is anything more unnatural?
Free popcorn--brought to you by Jesus.
Laugh Out Loud: tiny dog, purple leash.
Colest day in April and eating raisin bran.
Do I jog or bike on a Saturday?
Speak Spanish, man, or take a walk; something!
That's my favorite song: Something, Something I Love You.
I don't have anything: bobcat. I don't have anything.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Poem #7: The Charlie Sheen Poem

Mother, I am full of Tiger Blood.
Get me two cigarettes: I've already
smoked the first so you might
as well get three. Have you heard
from the elders, they've found new
boysenberries, each tattoing a name
onto their shrivelled skin: mine.
Lover, find anything other than
wonder, you won't find it.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Bone-Flower Elegy (After Mary Jo Bang & Robert Hayden)

(This one's dedicated to my Aunt Riv & Uncle Josh)

As him, in the dream, as her
as art is constant yet the destructor
of my wrists, I hold this:
I can't even remove my glasses without
not seeing, and that was what
I wished tubes were all we knew
brush past beds as lolling heads
whirred and clucked and snacked on
death crackers, dry and thin.
When I think harder, will you be there,
and what was worse back then
was thinking hard that you both in separate
coffins were not. Eyes dilate faster
what with the drops is the garden
blooming yet, reach to me your hands, I will check

Poem #4, Response

(I forget why I said this was a response...but)

On through an eighty degree night, fact
of warming in the midst of cold April
breeze is blankets, though the sinus headache
and twinging uscles annunciate in my skin
felt hats felt in winter are for tomorrow
newspaper rolls across the street; heat
but the dark of it inside the new
flowers make spring finally here, as if it were
fall but with white instead of fire

Guac (A Found Poem)

(Here, I took pieces of conversation while at a friend's house) (Each line should be cascading...unfortunately, blogger can't do that)

That's a lot of pressure

About Ocean City
that one
that was intense lightening

We can wash off the porch
We'll split it three way

I should tell her to clip out
I should tell her to clip out
She's not clipping out

There used to be so much:
He abuses strange materials
You think they'd keep that for next year

So this isn't a documentary.
So this is a documentary.

Poem #2: Three Short Poems at Qualia Coffee

(Here I took lines from old poems that I didn't much like...and took the best lines and added some others)

Whistling through your picturing and finding naught

thou picture, beside
figuring, knit caps, glasses
bees, love, bees.


Janis Joplin has a way of crooning to the beads
hung by the sandalwood candles
O Janis, mine own candle
is not sandalwood--I got it at the factory outlet
it smells vaguely of the hanging gardens.


I am following the red ribbon attached to my journal
belittle rain fills it up
here is my coffee, I meditate over the cup

30 Poems in 30 Days Challenge!!!

Hi folks, I'm participating in 30 Poems in 30 Days, as part of National Poetry Month! Yay!!! It's a great time to experiment, and have some fun, or be serious and not have fun (but really have fun).
Here's poem #1:

Will you be the ruiner of my objects, climb down my runny eggs
and lay flat on the tongue bedding
with the book of poetry
I am dropped and thump--
dizziness is a towel I wished
upon and get all the time.
Lucky you, jackets hanging on my chair--all you do is be brown
and corduroy and nestle in the corner. Luck you,
vines creeping out of the shelves,
lucky you orange twice bitten,
twice juiced and picked up,
luck you, ruiner of objects, vacuum-er of pens.
Creator and destroyer, where have you been?