Wednesday, December 24, 2003
white guy enthusiasms
to return to Sam Shepard
and fulfill your promises to see
Jesus H live
at Madison Square SANTA MONICA
Do you worry about
or gorgeous Iranian animated screensavers
showing up in
Santa's workshop with a beautiful,
old world sense of
robots and robot belts
made out of "lobster material?"
your eyes are glowing
in the dark because of
a lounge singer's Christmas past
w/ cabbage or Brussels sprouts
as a ornament
without length, width, or
theatrical painted deer
glowing on your behalf
that disappear to return
to the State Park
giving out a spark
of pixilated Chase Manhattan
I Don’t Have Any Ally McBeal
So Shut Up
Santa is a woman
if she were a man,
everyone in the universe
would wake up
to Santa's elves
reading Jude The Obscure!
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
Oh yes you will always be my reindeer flotilla two hearts two hearts that beat as one oh I know I know I found I found in you my reindeer flotilla The Hawaii State Vacation Planner Timeless reindeer flotilla My reindeer flotilla for you is endless Like an eternal light That keeps on glowing and shinning And is sweet My reindeer flotilla Welcome! Lonely Tonight My reindeer flotilla Tools Hey Guys here is finally the sequel to "Waiting For Tonight" My reindeer flotilla with you No one else will do And your eyes Your eyes your eyes They tell me how much you care Ooh yes you will always be My reindeer flotilla two hearts My Reindeer flotilla And I know that there's also something from the bottom of my heart that keeps saying to me that he's going to be MY REINDEER FLOTILLA My reindeer flotilla reindeer It is said that from time to time comedy can bring us all together make us feel closer transcending My Reindeer flotilla "My Reindeer flotilla" was the theme music for the 1981 movie My Reindeer flotilla Lionel Richie wrote the song he and Diana Ross figured out your password You can't resist yourself My reindeer flotilla--Topic: Politics You soared into my life your angelic spirit as free and beautiful as a dove and changed it forever For that you will always have my reindeer flotilla Share All my love with you No-one else will do And your eyes (your eyes your eyes) They tell me how much you care Oh yes You will always be my reindeer flotilla My Damn It To all my reindeer flotilla with you No one else will do And your eyes They tell me how much you care Oh yes You will always be My reindeer flotilla And your eyes Your eyes your eyes They tell me how much you care Ooh yes you will always be My reindeer flotilla Two hearts Two hearts that beat as one Our lives you hey yeah No one else will do And your eyes (your eyes your eyes) They tell me how much you care Oh yes You will always be My reindeer flotilla Oh yeah.
Friday, December 05, 2003
In the mid-90s, I received an email from a mysterious
character calling himself "Cosmic Jimmy."
He said he was the developer of a new family-oriented Christmas web
site that keeps the family centered around the true meaning of Christmas.
The difficulty in having a common meaning is that there are
so many. When we dolphins communicate, for instance,
the messages accrete
in these tiny fatty sacs parallel to the head. The sound
Can reverberate horribly, transmitting the special messages
we've been ordained to deliver to mankind
with a violence more often associated with alcohol abusers
and old pre-digital Roland RX 550 synthesizers.
With that said, I can tell you the true meaning of love
And friendship is the element that will become predominant
in the warm interspecies relations which, even now, can sometimes develop
between humans, dolphins and whales. Every day, somewhere
around the world, a dolphin reaches out to someone, pleading:
"Court block Bush dolphin safe label!
Court block Bush dolphin safe label!"
the high mortality rate of seven million dolphins killed since the 1950's,
Modeled by the small businesses active in your community.
Children discussing Dolphin & Whale ascension,
Holographic Knowledge, Earth Changes, True Law, True
Meaning of Namaste--
One needn't climb the slopes of Nazareth
To have sex with a dolphin....
"Sex? With a dolphin? How sick is that?"
Not to make this a "Scrooge" experience or anything,
but that dirty little dolphin
enticing the customer
to buy, buy, buy, pretending
that dolphins are virgins, here to help us understand
our true noctural drives. There might, in fact, in retrospect
be something dolphin-like
About all our collective sexual perversions:
For when the man has been laid to rest he will be
Anointed with a myrrh, according to the custom of the Horebites
who, at the postfeast of the Nativity, celebrate the ascension of the dead
to a sort of vast paradise
with the help of a personal angel
and the goddess Dolphin. It's good to see that Disney
didn't go the "PC" route with this one, obscuring the true meaning
of Christmas for some crap the whole family can enjoy.
The things we love will pass
like grass, beating is practically a given
given the traditions of Mohinder's alcohol abuse. So I gave him
this colored plastic claw that throws dolphin balls really, really far:
Moral is spank a dolphin and get
to heaven which is the true meaning to life
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
This course is designed to introduce you to one of the most ignored and bewildering art forms there is out there. It is not for people with heart conditions or for people with "their own ideas about things." A lot will be expected of you because poetry writing demands our most self-serious exertions. The body is preparing itself for either flight or fight. Poetry should make your testicles light up like a jack-o-lantern.
Poetry is an indigestible form of word arrangement and cannot function as a source of fuel. Poetry helps to prevent constipation and gives a feeling of fullness, but too much poetry can reduce the uptake of vitamins and actually increase constipation if prose consumption is not increased at the same time.
Why is the need for poetry wired into our mammalian brains, like the need for jobs you can't be fired from, Quaaludes and cheap wine? Why do other mammals often write better than humans do? Since humans have been speaking, writing, and torturing each other with poetry since William Shakespeare started it all, what's the reason? What is it about poetry?
The weave of poetry is perfect. It is perfectly and harmoniously balanced. Poetry is The Law. It flows through everything that is in existence, every stone, every plant, every animal, every being every man. How can we hope to write poetry well when we haven't read any in twenty years? By giving people what they expect, that's how.
I've learned that you cannot make someone love your poetry. All you can do is be a poet who can be loved. The rest is on them. Poets are encouraged to purchase merchandise featuring their poetry. For me, poetry is not self expression, though it may be spelt regression. Poetry harvests the fact of it's own banality. It is spectacularly and excruciatingly inept, which doesn't mean it isn't famous, though it isn't, and in order to know anything about it you'll have to learn about your own powerlessness and dismay, the language of The Masai warriors and Native Indians, successful slave revolts, new ways of approaching dialectical materialism, how to instigate a nation-wide general strike, the way mountains collect social security, and how to survive in the wilderness with only a collection of Jonas Mekas movies and an obscene deck of cards.
Whatever poets see they unconsciously imitate. It comes from somewhere, perhaps sailboats or desk lamps or genuflecting to Gloria Steinem, and is a gift from our lord, God and all these great chemical substances that we've taken over the years.
The best way to write poetry is to write like you've never been hurt. Middle-aged people with an increasing distance from social reality would be mad at you if you completely ignored them. Don't take this course if you're not ready to believe that poetry is in serious trouble. True-hearted poets, even in the humblest station in life, who are energetic doers, may give an impulse to good works out of all proportion, apparently, to their actual station in society. This is especially good news for the poets' landlords and bosses.
Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful fears. The thing that distinguishes poetry from other segments is that there is no room for error. In large poetry application deployment there is usually a small army of poetic people and consultants available to help smooth out the bumps. Auden wrote, for example, that "poetry makes nothing happen: let's keep it that way." In the small poetry segment, poets tend to rely on words that cost relatively little, so the poetic payroll is not at stake.
To me, the most alarming thing about poetry is that there is a lot to choose from. Poetry's status economy depends on a knowledge-gap. Try relying on resellers you trust to find poems that are easy to install, use and, most importantly, maintain.
Poetry is the power of deflating the indefinable in terms of the unforgivable. There will be channeled readings on poetics as well as sessions in which student poetry will be summarily dismissed. Grades will be based on quality of the work, disingenuousness, commitment to Christianity, generosity of spirit, and articulation of a poetics to ride in on.
Saturday, November 08, 2003
My Dad was a proud Paratrooper. He loved being Phillipines news. An LA Teen asked help to ID a priest she says fathered her. My Dad Was a Boxer. We succeeded. My dad was a connoisseur of classical music. It was incredibly important to him. His best man was a black belt in Judo. He believed in the Judo way. He turned around, and the boys in that car hastily apologized. Did I mention that my dad was a big guy? My Dad was big. My Dad was a big union guy, back in Cape Breton in the 1940s, 50s, and 60s. He worked for such a special man. He was everything (and more) that a Christian should be. He devoted his life to Jesus and did it with pleasure. My Dad was a big man by build and had a big heart with so much love in it and in return he was loved by everyone in a coup. Of course, according to Idi Amin Dada, my Dad was a threat being a well educated Protestant from Buganda. To cut the truck driver for a local rendering business. I was an only child and my dad spoiled me terribly! On the left is a picture of his plane, it's a Spitfire. Some pilots named their planes e.g. THE OLDEST LIVING ALTAR BOY IN THE HISTORY OF "LITTLE FLOWER." I think my dad was a card shark before he became a preacher!!~lol!~ When we left that evening it was hard to believe dad was a child during The Depression in the 1930s. As you know, commodities were scarce in those days. My dad was a very good tradesman of the old school, and some of the things these old-time mechanics could do with a chisel, file and hand scrapers is almost mutli-talented in so many ways. My Dad was a huge success on the Donna Reed Show. He went to college at La Salle University in the Philippines. I was told my dad was a ladies man. He dated many girls. An iron gate. Very creepy looking. Because hindsight is clearer then my eyesight, I must be thankful that my Dad was a dead beat Dad. For had a typical pragmatic solution lived on a somewhat busy mighty Manchester United, the man who did all he could for his children would have convinced my brother that my dad was a monster. My dad never did anything to hurt anyone. My dad moved out. It's him. His laugh. His love. My Dad was a great wordsmith, but he was a greater selfish colleague. He was one of the best, our hero. Someone we loved and looked up to. My dad was a hard working man. It's all I ever knew. My Dad was a weekend Dad. He would take my older sister and me to "Buckeye Division." No radio, no heat, no interior lights. This is ridiculous. My Mom was an Australian Cattle Dog also known as a Blue Heeler. My Dad was a "rolling stone" and all we know about him was that he was very big.
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
You heard it Greeny fuck
Triad Purple pulled
at the hoping traitor
to release badgered giving
you threw your legs!
But rest assured, folks--
lip balm to coax an egg
out of a brandy bottle,
or some greeny shit pennies
using the Hash Bags,
"I dunno its exhaust pipe,"
like Arlo Skating for GREENy
(This fucker's going down)
oh god ... images
last i heard greeny was
trying to bum rich ... but thats
a regular occurence....
oh you fucker
ima kick your sorry
Thursday, October 09, 2003
John F. in Tennessee
Needed some discontinued laminate flooring;
They couldn't find it anywhere
& wrote to me.
I placed a call to Hal McClure
The first permanent white settlement
I placed a target at seven yards
And proceeded to try to shoot at it
While I baked pancakes
(Interpretation of the law in Tennessee).
I placed a 3 by 5 ad in AUTO NEWS:
"1960 Lotus Elite
fully restored & running
and parked in Tennessee."
I placed a helix on my TranSystem converter
At 16:03:22 EST
To get circular polarization
When I worked in Tennessee.
I placed a large spilt shot about 18" above the Magic Stik
rigged Texas style on Bass Pro Shop XPS 1/0,
Carolina Wide Gap hook:
Smallie Time In Tennessee.
The problem came in Tennessee.
I placed a few grains
Of this unknown substance
On my tongue.
I was a 25-year-old Catholic from New York
Having sex with a 16-year-old
"Mentally defective" patient
I placed a small but biting tit clamp
On his left nipple--
The first openly gay candidate
To run for Congress in Tennessee.
When someone Double Heimlichs Pope John Paul
Their diatribes appeal. "Thanks for saying
Those nasty words." "I am the Central Park Jogger,
A three-month suspended sentence and sex abuse crisis;
Push him back out in the hopes the tide will take him."
He stops and talks to the two bums in order.
Fed Chairman Greenspan should be so lucky.
War Noise. The American dollar at 74.86¢.
This disabled visitor felt a new strength.
"The original chapel was donated by unpublished
Scripts of talks broadcasted next to the French
Archaeologist and mystic three-way."
Snicker every time the preacher talks,
Not fat, but "husky" and hairy like a god.
Monday, September 15, 2003
Kenneth, mars!!! and, god help us all, crawl, stagger stagger,
crawl!!!" i hate to say it, but; I HATE CHEECH in this....
How High ... new millennium? It sounded interesting the first time
I heard it. Then I remembered how much I HATE CHEECH!!! Man...
Kids Writing ... all I got you're very hot you'll get it all in a hall this
is long I hate Cheech and Chong I am happy I have no grandpappy
Thursday, September 11, 2003
I made a little mother out of mimes,
old Styx tee shirts,
and a bit of middle-aged llama futures.
I once saw Gary Chandling on TV.
That's when the troubles were too pockmarked
to be resplendent,
awash in gas, but distant enough
to keeps me coughing
and rooting for all
the animals on the farm.
Matter is every dried family that sews for a living.
They're bound to disappear: power to my feelings.
All my plaster saints go down on
everything that's happened,
and they like it much better
through a teetotaler:
that's the way un uh, un uh
the wormwood gets homesick
with many notions on one candle.
I molded this at the lost and spilled,
as if you like your Love to be inside a parking lot
with spiders in the cactus and all grassed up in knots.
It's so YOU to become as a garnish is.
The Horrible Actions(tm)
Matter takes up while spackling the interns
we call tradition.
Knife, Fork, Many Mo and Jack,
set on the mantle to be singin' to the crack?
Can you guess that you are not so much from
everywhere to be expelled
like a mouthful of Love Music
that's in my class!
It's my brand of new coat
to enjoy these pleasant burning sensations, mother said,
because another horrible infestation
watches the car sink into an off-stage swamp.
It's rocks and tree explained the whips of potatoes.
and like Nixon's womanly arts,
thoughts from a sleepy person have some weight.
They fill our world with holy lint and happy links,
and from those parts it makes our present whole,
like cream of wheat.
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Friday, August 22, 2003
I love jazz. I miss Frank. Jazz always been my firts
sound that invade my brain my rydum my soul and in the end
my heart. orang.orang.org author:
i guess. ANYWAY. i miss frank. GRR. and i miss everyone, but
mostly i miss frank. lol just kiddin i miss you ALL. okay well now im done.
Frank was a bureaucrat, but he wasn't greedy. I miss Frank, even
though we often found ourselves
on opposite sides of the regular church choir practice afterwards.
lots of singing. Am I pathetic? (Post a new comment).
She needs to steal her brother's bass and drag it and her ass
to Millinocket so we can FINALLY get this band thing started.
Did I mention I miss Frank?
I miss Frank terribly and a cry a lot, but I know that
he will continue to help us from heaven, he'll bounce back
in one day, I'm fairly sure.
After reading books about him I have concluded that Frank
would have hated what Iowa would draw more than
putting the Surgeon General's warning on cigarettes (and wasn't THAT
a dustup, boys and girls!) suppressed the sale of cigarettes. good.
I had my tooth pulled yesterday. I have been on darvstet (spl?)
all day yesterday and today. and I miss Frank.
Maybe because i miss Frank right now and it makes me feel better.
My boyfriend is in Prison for a life sentence. In a Pa Prison.
but hey, Steve, your growing on me. I'm very impressed
with your success ... you're probably scaring hubby (hehe).
Ya know, I miss Frank right now (remember him?). I also laugh
every now and then at a Friend of My Good Friend. Such men as these
who gave their Friendship distinctively.
You bet HE was and is. And now your Dad is
with you to help you along. Best advice would be to experiment
since you are not putting that baby on the moon.
Yes you will
miss him forever as he was a big
part of your life, just as I miss Frank.
It wasn't the best job in the world but it helped pay the bills.
"I am all business," says my mother at two nice, affordable apartments.
So sue me! I MISS FRANK!!! BITE ME!!! Ahem. Well then, on with the show!
knowing what to do...well thats what we talked about..and how i missed
dad...and i hate to admit this of all things...i miss frank.....long pause ...
God I miss frank so fuckin much...can we go to sleep ...
stop thinking of him. ... i miss frank crap...get over it...
This I cannot be less clear about.... But, I miss Frank. I almost can’t
say what it is I miss. It's not logical, you probably know this. Fuck! .
Simply mutha effin Jeff I miss Frank and Ghost. Those
are some breakbeat heads.
He had real potential.
He and his ability. If only he'd had a series... But enough lamenting.
Here was a guy who played wierd, complex, beautiful music. And he
was still alive (I miss Frank)! And he was coming to my town.
Hate to admit it, but I miss Frank's nastiness.
da onlii thing dat ima say ish dat I miss Frank's pizzeria[sp?]...
gOsh when wusz da last tym we hanged Owt der?
I pulled the trigger. Yes. (I miss Frank) I didn't realize I was doing it
when I did. (Murdered because of spoon) I shot him. Broke his flesh....
any further questions? Yes back there?
"Sommmmme-bodeeeee, come kiiiiiis me."
*drool* Nice. I used to work in a shop whose mascot was
a crabby toucan. I miss Frank, and, this is a wonderful drawing. ..
So say a prayer or do a dance or chant something or
somebody should hold my libido when she gets here. YEEE HAAAA!
I talked to Frank yesterday.
I miss Frank too. Sweet Frank. He was asking me about my life.
Thursday, August 21, 2003
"discovering" means different things
depending on whether one is a very experienced teacher
or just another ClearChannel TV station
when most pet snakes
think of themselves as Darwinians
with large primate sanctuaries
the fruits which democracy offers:
hardcore asian mouth full of cock
baseball cap embroidery
the young, ambitious, urban, latin markets
football | baseball | sport | golf | music | movies |
want to reunite with a past love
Why do I really want a snake?
Is it possible for me to take in a primate?
A few things to think about when seeking a teacher
They DO make wonderful pets.
It's not like a dog biting...
you can't meditate.
You own a Russian company
you've got troubles
you want a small dog
that understands parliamentary democracy
you want a spotted dog
you want a collie
with disability insurance
you want a record deal
you want to be an arranger
after you've flown hundreds of hours in your starfighter
you want a hot little market
with plenty of Goat Business. No
thirtyoneplus beautiful ass sticking up out of the water
extreme closeup of young shellys hairless ass pussy
You're a Californian
you need some help
you've got it bad
you can't play by ear
you know about Iraq
you know Seinfeld
you know golf
you know the "Lord of the Rings"
you're a Star Wars fan
you're good at video games
YOU CAN BE PRESIDENT.
You are a good listener
you know about condoms
YOU WANT TO BREED.
You might as well get it over with.
Think about hotcakes. Start a comic.
She spread her girlfriend's pussy...
YOU KNOW ABOUT EUTHANASIA
the length of time is not important except that it is long
only amateur ass man's free ass pic's spiders
web redlyte wow. that sure is an open asshole!
you're a great pig designer
Do you need a pig, or NOT?
Photo of girl licking lips needed
Actresses Needed for One Act
You have listened to all of the stories from friends who have traveled
This page is designed to assist you in making a very important and personal decision
Aren't we lucky to be a terrier with experience matching plaids
"look, if you had, one shot; or one opportunity to seize everything you
ever wanted, in one moment would you capture it, or just let it slip, yo?"
know how the world works?
Can't be any other way.
The soundtrack to my life.
The Errors and Misconceptions of Evaluating Exceptional Talent.
you know acupuncture
YOU KNOW HARRY POTTER
YOU ARE READY FOR SEX.
Friday, July 11, 2003
THE NEW YORKER RESPONDS to Ryan Fitzpatrick's "Sparrow":
I wanted to apologize for sending you a blank email earlier. I was curious as to what these poems were written for, as we've received a number of them from different email addresses and (purportedly) different authors. You can reply to me (if you like) at email@example.com; I am would truly be interested to know.
Moira Weigel (Poetry Dept. Intern)
NOTE: THE NEW YORKER SPARROW PROJECT CONTINUES! Send your "Sparrow" poem today, see below for details...
Saturday, July 05, 2003
It's almost summer. Mama Miao
is grooming the Reader.
A minute later,
she's done with the Reader.
So, Mama Miao wants her to
take his place.
Baba Miao backs off,
using this excuse:
The Effects Fat Has on Freezing Milk.
and then started throwing thawed-out bats,
at the Hela monsters growing in my thoughts
cobalt back home Halloween Penguin Summer
chillin' out in an oasis of Bad Bats...
REAL SOCIALIZING with Penguins
stuck in a hot spot but chillin'
That never happened. Just then,
I walk in and say that they've overheard
the cook telling Tai-Tai
that he has to cut off some
of The Reader's fur because it was messy.
She then asks The Reader what happened.
The Reader then tells them
and that The Reader's text
has sent The Reader
out to town to deliver a scroll
to an Adirondack Park
each the one saluting his wife
that he can groom himself.
Meanwhile, The reader delivers
the scroll to other Reader.
so the potter goes but not before stopping
to watch the other potter spin clay.
The reader feels itchy, and scratches herself.
Cat hair flutters up on the piano
Our renewal is an amusing sneezeland
Knocking on the still soft clay, splashing some
ontology on The Reader.
The reader continues home.
the cook sees The Reader in a combined
haven for the harried, providing zest, relaxation
tin ballast or just chillin out.
Comes with 2 basketballs,
and a bouquet of
On the playground is where I
spent most of my days Chillin'
out maxin' relaxin the on the cobalt
Yosemite and Yellowstone fibers
Are the love seats above the napkins
where bats are playing video games?
where there are nightly shows
usually he *scoots regrets out
in gossamer robots
The Reader was kidnapped by bats,
and that those bats
ridiculed Fu-Fu, Fu-Fu gets mad and
calls on his clique. None of
these are the truth -- in an exciting manner.
2001... to be strapped to a gurney, and beaten
to death by the relatives of earthworms,
using whiffle ball bats.
Fly Fishing With Rod Smith
He’s British Yo, swearing to bring
those kidnappers some apple juice. The reader
decides that this has gone on long
enough, and admits that the Expedition
to the North Pole is dedicated Polly
mannequin/ murkin fiesta
for Ralph Fiennes.
Bubble gum gets onto your hearses.
The reader goes out, and Dongwa and
Sheegwa asks The Reader why she
looked like that. Feeling ashamed,
The reader spins a story about being
kidnapped by the removes of clay
and cutting off the affected fur
(just like you admitted
to meeting a (Chinese) dragon.
On your family vacation
If you wish you
Thursday, July 03, 2003
We've had a red-breasted nuthatch visiting
the feeders. I love hearing his soft "yank-
yank-yank" calls as he nips off suet, along
with the bushtit flock's gentle, twittering notes.
I have seen a White-Breasted Nuthatch almost
every day! ... I have never seen a Red
Breasted Nuthatch come back and recover
any of their stored seeds. It looks like
the tow rope is attached and they are waiting
for a nice high tide to yank it off, WHEE, WHEE, WHEE.
Bushtit. Bushtit (lisp) Bushtit Bushtit (tsit) Bushtit.
Violet-green Swallow, Mexican Jay, Bridled Titmouse,
Bushtit, Pygmy Nuthatch (low YANK or YAIR)
approximately one mile from the Hank and Yank homestead.
Why do you have a photograph of a black-capped chickadee illustrating your sequence of Sparrow poems?
While you are quite correct that the bird photograph featured on Mainstream Poetry is not a sparrow, neither is it a black-capped chickadee. It is a white-breasted nuthatch. Kenn Kaufman, in his Birds of North America (Houghton Mifflin, 2000) notes that the white-breasted nuthatch is distinguished by its "All-white face and chest, set off by narrow black crown stripe" and "orange-brown lower belly," while the black-capped chickadee has a "black cap and bib, gray back, buff wash on sides." We hope this clears up any confusion.
The Mainstream Poets
Monday, June 23, 2003
The Mainstream Poets are happy to sponsor this forgotten classic, "Olives" by Orrick Johns. Written in 1915, it appeared alongside Mina Loy’s "Love Songs" in William Carlos Williams's magazine, Others. Williams mentions it in his Autobiography as causing a minor sensation. A revised, and it seems to us less bold, version appeared in Johns's book Black Branches under the title "Tunings." Johns is well worth checking out! His poetry is all over the map but some of it, including this poem, exhibits a wonderfully bizarre combination of sincerity and stupidity not seen again until some of the New York Schoolies tried on a similar tone. Very Mainstream! Happy reading....
I've ten fingers
Very much admired,
I shall frame them
For they cannot do anything;
They cannot earn dinner
Or even hold a pebble...
Pebbles are pretty falling through them.
Little old shoe,
You need a shoe-string;
I shall find one for you,
For without it you are helpless
As a man who studies regulations,
But with a yellow one
Like a woman who is bald.
3. Beautiful Mind
Oh, beautiful mind,
I lost it
In a lot of frying pans
And calendars and carpets
And beer bottles....
Oh, my beautiful mind!
That was his name,
Everyone always said,
"Miggles did it."
I admired you from the beginning,
5. A Room
It is a room that sets people thinking,
So they say,
Lighted like grandma's moonflowers....
Swish--I hear something in the corner,
And I wish I were a cat.
6. Blue Undershirts
Upon a line,
It is not necessary to say to you
Anything about it--
What they do,
What they might do ... blue undershirts.
7. In Bed
I am tortured
By this borrowed mattress...
How do you lie,
8. In the Square
They made a statue
Of a general on horseback,
With his face turned nobly
Toward the crupper...
Quite half the time.
9. At the Door
I have only a tingling remembrance
Not of his eyes
The whole of him,
The whole of me,
Known, elicited, understood.
10. On the Table
Made of plaster,
With your head
Upon a spring,
When my hand trembles upon the table
And when I chuckle too...
11. In the Street
You must not wink
Do you forget I think
For both of us?
12. In the Orchard
As the quince blossoms died,
The cherries were ripening...
Such are all your moments,
Now I know
I have been eating apple-pie for breakfast
In the New England
Of your sexuality.
14. A Moon
It lasted a month,
We had one moon...
You took it for a baby
And when it cried
For a bib and a bottle,
All was over.
Thursday, June 19, 2003
THE NEW YORKER SPARROW PROJECT:
SAMPLE POEMS FROM THE MAINSTREAM POETS
The morning is littered with people
bumping against each other
like boats in the marina. I notice them
as I discard my jury duty questionnaire
in the business improvement district's
thoughtfully-provided green can.
Some days on my way out the door
I see a sparrow dead on the sidewalk
and I know that somewhere, a poet
has given up. Today
a white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.
The penis hurtles like an acrobat
Across the off-white expanse of text,
Determined prong inured to caveat,
Untrammeled, bellicose, and oversexed;
Legions without in ardent reverence gaze,
The brilliant condescending to the clever,
As bureaucrat to adept harps in praise:
"This cat's circumsized johnson goes on forever!"
But anything goes home with everything
When nothing has the coatroom to itself:
I am the common multinational elf
Whose president failed all the spelling tests,
And today a white-breasted nuthatch nests
In my urethra and begins to sing.
The Ballad of Thrasher the Handsome Adult
With a length of 6
inches, i seek haven at your Sugartree Inn in Vermont.
THRASHER is an inquisitive,
acrobatic HANDSOME ADULT, pausing occasionally to hammer at a crack--
Do you know where your
children are? My all-time favorite kitchen accessory is a delightful ...[sic]
Found a recessive mutation called "tinny yank-yank"
This cake is more of a confection than a cake: it is a
A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.
I was so hungry that I started eating C++,
And when without the slices kindling in the inkpot new,
The clothes became a gossamer Mormon duckling
Responding to the lack of pizza on the chicken lawn,
They freaked till dawn with no mutability until a fine distraction grew.
The halls of shame here and there enthralled the crimson straphangers:
And thereby Henry Rollins flowed confusedly across a spectral wave.
Did you just call my buttocks a Chia Pet?
There is a careless shoe-string, in whose tie I see a wild legality,
To ask the would-be clients if they
Would be finished with the vegen sandwiches any time soon,
Does more bewitch me than a baby tree frog.
Today a white-breasted nuthatch nests
In my urethra and begins to sing.
As a child I thought Nuthatch was pronounced
"nuh*THATCH," the second syllable hit hard
as though one might find him stamping
on one's grassy, unkempt roof. In the 80s
a friend corrected my pronunciation: "Nut Hatch."
God, what a letdown.
For twenty years I've lived with this knowledge. But
today a white-breasted nuthatch nests
in my urethra and begins to sing.
Often I return
to a management compensation package:
we lie together gazing up at the spackled ceilings,
wan mirror of ourselves.
Each month brings its flaccid enchantments
around like a dim sum cart. We choose
among absences, forgotten rooms
in an underused vacation home.
Today's colonoscopy went swimmingly,
I think. First I saw inside myself,
then a snow hove off the eaves.
A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.
The Tree Swallows occupying this nesting box
have been banded together to form
a national organization in the goal
of neighborhood revitalization. Nest-Box Cam
provides a "Truman Show" for bird lovers.
You have until the last cobweb
thistle drops its seeds to the bottom
of this glass to change your mind.
To lay on his firm believer in
this approach, he scratches the five areas.
Billy is inside the sparrow
carrying a yellow scratch ticket.
A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
Urethra, and begins to sing.
A Half-Dozen Ways of Looking for a Nuthatch
There is nothing more dangerous
than a bad idea.
A tight-breasted nuthatch
rests on my glans,
and begins to sting.
Time: what is it? To physicists,
defined by quantum mechanics.
Eternal Lenox dinnerware,
winter greetings nuthatch plate
There is nothing more dangerous
than previously thought.
A white-breasted nuthatch
nests in my urethra,
and begins to sing.
And contributions from three special Mainstream guests!!!
Beautiful Devon, and Plymouth's Barbican! 917
elizabethan era 893 elizabethan
439 elizabethan age 430 elizabethan theatre
370 elizabethan times 297 elizabethan foo-
d 286 elizabethan costume 277 elizabethan
theater 238 elizabethan clothing 168 elizabethan
architecture 153 elizabethan music 135 elizabethan
fashion 110 elizabethan dress 77 elizabethan life
73 elizabethan medicine 69 elizabethan enter-
tainment 64 elizabethan drama 61 eliza-
bethan art 54 elizabethan society 49 elizabethan lon-
don 49 elizabethan woman 47 elizabethan ac-
tor 45 elizabethan language 43 elizabethan times
1500’s 42 elizabethan literature 41 elizabethan mar-
riage 40 elizabethan wedding 37 elizabethan game
37 elizabethan poetry 35 the elizabethan era
34 elizabethan religion 33 elizabethan daily
life 33 the elizabethan age
33 elizabethan english 32 A white-breasted nuthatch
nests in my urethra, and begins to sing!
We busted a new song out of our urethras
With Words made using home row and top row letters.
Reproductive organs, male, feline, lateral.
like spit or tears or menstrual fluids from my anus.
The sparrow thought it was the end
Due to American kestrels, or "sparrow
hawks," to help control starling, blackbird and sparrow numbers
The crystal would be used
to cut into the underside of the penis
Connected to the kidneys by two ureters
He is represented riding on a sparrow, and he holds in his hand a bow.
A "Kitten Opening"
in her abdominal wall
A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.
Listen to a recording of a House Sparrow
From the Library of Natural Sounds. The Sparrow provides
an effective range of 30 to 60 miles
and a top speed of 65 mph in a a gigabit-speed testbed.
I watched the first professional Language School
Give a presentation of bird photographs,
songs, identification tips, distribution maps, and life history
information for North American birds.
If we eat like a bird—immense amounts of food—and lose weight
so close to getting the new AC
Sparrow is a radar-guided air-to-air missile
This Wisconsin-based nursery sells peonies, daylillies, irises.
A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.
It all begins. It all
begins with the Expos at the Braves on the Deuce. Down by the river
the frogs--and Seth begins to blow the stars away.
Every morning begins with a nice cup of green tea.
Fortunato leans over the crying boy and gently begins
the bizarre story of David King in Milwaukee.
My rule of thumb, so to speak,
is that when you can see through your skin
as it begins mingling with strands of steam
ascending from my skin, then
all is a fish that comes to my net.
Horrid poem begins here.These monsters can swim
and lodge themselves with quill-like witticisms into each conversation.
They stand there, awestruck, in Vegas
they scribble on clipboards
and the butt sniffing begins. Lightning flashes—Suzanne says
"I will start my own promotion company
Goddamn near excretin' ju-ju."
This begins with separation from the group.
Human magic fails
in the face of a person who develops powerful guilt trips,
loss of Jeffy, loss of innocence, but then
the clouds lift and the sun burns through.
2nd fall quarter begins.
A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.
Mainstream Poetry: mainstreampoetry.blogspot.com
El título es claramente irónico. Algunas ideas buenas y bastante divertidas, además de reflexiones (o pseudo-reflexiones) sobre la vanguardia. Aquí a menudo uno se encuentra con intervenciones poéticas, esto es: poemas clásicos reconfigurados de manera satírica. Muy interesante.
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Today at noon, the mainstream poets sent a series of poems to The New Yorker at firstname.lastname@example.org. Each poem ended with the lines
A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.
You are hereby invited to submit a poem ending with these two lines to The New Yorker. The Mainstream Poets suggest that you do this in coordination with several other poet-friends for maximum effect.
Tuesday, June 03, 2003
Yours is clearly of the long-nosed variety
not knowing the room; but he couldn’t.
His nose had grown.
I bring up Pinocchio
for several reasons.
Knock On Wood
to make a long story short
so I can get average
but in Italy a big nose is nothing
the bitch screamed
and it started again
A few weeks later,
The Gipper ran into Pinocchio.
Haven't you ever seen
a Jeff Dahmer-nose pizza before?
I predict that Marie will have a long and happy Squirll.
The Pinocchio Theory:
Steven shrimp (Occasion)
If you fake the funk,
your nose will grow
mostly by the mise-en-scene,
with its long shots of Lover
I hate those dancing green eyes a
long nose that was broken:
we all got libidos out here,
and it's been so long since
I Pinocchio gave a disdainful snort
Mr. Cranky Rates the Movies
beer; Re: Long sentence review
Critico; Pinocchio got to be a real boy, in
the end. The Nose hath perverted your
ability to discern good from evil!
Pursued by a Bear
then applied its snout to the long straw
What's with the nose, Pinocchio?
Melanie asks dare this strident, arrogant
frigid little bitch speak to the recap
This may just be a long long recap,
longer than Pinocchio's nose after
a fib fest
So I tell her, I think my nose is spoken for
Knock on Wood
to make a long story short so I can get to
the bitch screamed and it started again.
he is a reckless, unpredictable risk-taking son of a bitch,
and I When I lie I grow
a long, long nose But to be real I
excerpt from "Sympathy for Pinocchio".
Sunday, June 01, 2003
To escape the ubiquitous dynamic
of cause and effect
he does not have an insular
and reactionary bluff
as monolithic and monotonous cuffs.
a movement of a predictable cat
like aesthetic consequence
looks good, better than
a pagoda wagon berating him
for coming to the populist aspect of
a vociferous suspicion
repaid in kind
because other people told him
when eyelids rush to cleave a view
these stereotypes have led
to my own self
in simpering hemp meringue
like other pitiful human beings
who eat to act with archaeological endeavor,
a cross-section of interesting confines
as well as younger cakes
whose scope and purpose they have yet to
floodgates open, and I
with not enough hands to subdue such programmers battle
emotions rip us a new one
ever uncomfortable with the image
that has become associated with
the illusion of a privilege
in exchange for betraying
the metaphysical lava
I headed over to yesterday’s fragile wounds,
returning me to a doorway of ill purpose,
according to goals of muses
through weakness of heart,
timewarped to that place
where years become carp
and live happily and think
there's a classic question
of anyone's wishes – the thwart and my dishes
I am compelled to re-live this stork,
reducing me to a state of nothingness,
with every ounce of thinking engaging my person
chewed by this torment,
like pap speech about the machines
and the whole move along steroid conditions of desire
I don't need this photograph
to remind me of something
I can't forget.
My goggles tried to escape
conditions forced on the
shreds of me so slowly
You look at me as Pluto.
You see I am a philosophy
that can explain the determinism and the
of utterly unconditioned swallowing
A joker, a maniac, a fool,
A god, my own saliva.
trapped inside my confusion,
frightened by the world outside
afraid to be the interdependencies of existence
in a way that avoids all extremes of nature
not trendy, not a rebel,
"The problem is a hose."
I have a choice to make.
by the river Styx
Once again the loneliness
creeps into my family of moose,
morosely oozing through the data
and I think it's no accident that the
shadows place their ice-cold hands about my throat,
choking out my thinking and
tresses and confusion.
German physicists have already had similar thoughts
waiting in vain I sink lower and deeper,
falling as the light shower of my own questions
smirks obnoxiously in my mind
my discovery of these my elders
while some of my forms collect snakes
bound up, hand-in-hand, with my quest
to answer an evil thought
Into my once clean mind.
way to be a star
in another specific development
I walk my room
Looking for a destination,
only finding poets who love form and content
I have nonetheless found myself
walking to the receiver
with the New Situation in quantum furrow
let it suffice with this:
the ground beef is still nothing received.
I look at the callous road,
I long for the door to phone
The road glares back,
the tarmac laughs.
Thursday, May 22, 2003
Ernest Hemingway was a really, really,
good righter. He was so good that he
apparently impressed the potential of
a career and became a really-really good
photographer in a ninth-grader's paper
submitted by a teacher in Covington, Georgia.
It involved one naked rabble-rouser between
organizing communist fetes and open days.
So you think you're not to be confused with
having a bad hair day? Baby steps, man!
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
[The following interview originally appeared in the Spring 2003 issue of Maraudian, a new journal at the University of Delaware, and is reprinted by permission of the editor.]
Robert Pinsky is the Poet Laureate of the USA. A renowned poet, critic, and translator, his most recent books are The Furrowed Wheeze: New and Cornfed Poems 1994-1995 (Nope Press, 1995) and his translation of the magazine The Infernal Games is still kinda Infernal (Nope Press, 1994), which received the Harold Morton Lamdalamda Transitional Object Baffling Cultural Capital Investment Award from the Academy of Transitional American Poets.
The following interview was conducted by a computer. Pinsky, at his home in LA, was finishing a photo shoot. Midway through the interview, we were briefly interrupted by Pinsky showing the photographer that his cat had rabies. The break has been included here because of the shift in mood this created. Pinsky was allowed by the government handlers to talk about the pressures on his bladder as well as his hopes and dreads, long enough to permit us to glimpse the man behind the post.
--Todd Greenwald, Maraudian
Q: It's great to talk to you, and I especially wanted to talk to you because I want to bring your books to our readers' attention. Your plan has unfairly been lumped in with a lot of low poetry plans that are so much more radical. When in fact, your program is a lot more balanced and sane. How did you find out you had been named Poet Laureate?
A: I came home from step class, and there were three messages on my answering machine from Cindy Sherman. Oh yes. You know, when I was a little boy I had a poetry book called Robert's Poetry Book. I thought it was written about me. I also had been given a little electric stove with tiny radioactive plastic scorpions and things. I know how to do the foxtrot with porpoises. So, I was always writing poems. I don't know how I knew this, but one day I made beef stroganoff for the family and it was very, very good. My parents said: You should write a poem about it. Shortly after that I wrote a poem and it was very, very good. I remember making up a metaphor and it was very good. Pretty soon I was a poet [laughs].
Q: One of the things the Library of Congress mentioned that appealed to them was your effort to make poetry accessible to a broader audience by putting it on-line and seeing the web as a self promotional device rather than an antisocial, fantasy- reinforcing escape area for dorks. So how exactly did you develop your poetry writing plan?
A: Like print and writing and all women, the computer is just a kind of CIA agent whose mission is to destroy men. I'm the poetry editor of a weekly magazine published on the web by the CIA; the magazine is called Slate. I told you about the little poetry book and poems for my family and thinking I would teach poetry when I thought my career wasn't going to take off. Then Academy of Transitional American Poets came along. Around age 40 I put on twenty pounds. I had just graduated from the Brown MFA program. I had always had a perfect body. But, my body betrayed me as it does most people, except a very rare few who already have the transducer implants. Everybody seems to start hearing voices in middle age commanding you to kill yourself or to set some building on fire or whatever. So I was writing before this, but now I was putting weight on. I have a poem in Slate every week and readers can click on the poem and hear it read aloud by a evil demonic dog. There's a lot of poetry on the web. Cicadas can read my mind and they make a lot of money with it.
Q: What would you say to the people who complain that there's no system for people to divide what's good from what's bad?
A: I think that's true, but it's also true when you walk naked into the Grolier Poetry Bookshop in Boston carrying a boa constrictor, you're always like--YEAH baby where's the REMAINDERED section BABY? I have a project that I hope to complete, which is to create an audio and video archive of many, many Naked Americans saying aloud the name of someone they'd like to make love to but can't. I hope to have a very wide range of regional accents, a range of ages, a helicopter that can fly underwater, different professions, kinds of education, and it will not concentrate on poets or critics or experts or evil talking pets.
Q: Another thing the Library of Congress cited was your other work in poetry. You seem more interested in being a complete poet and critic than I think most contemporary poets are. I think it was The Nation that drew the comparison to Robert Lowell. How do you see the interaction between those different disciplines, or do you see them as separate disciplines?
A: I grew up with the idea that to practice an art was to be involved in every part of it and to try to imbibe as much coffee as possible because it's good for your colon. I never took a creative writing course, so I don't have a creative writing degree, except for the one from Brown. I speak to Bill Clinton every day through the drain hole in the sink. I find that one of the most curious things is that I have fractionalized motivations . When I come home, right before I watch the flaming globes collide, I start blogging about stuff I was eating that day. I started reading and talking and blogging about chicken and a thread was starting to form for me which is--a poet digests in a different rate of speed than a middle manager. When you put them together it creates a halt in the digestion. If you have a perfect poem it can metabolize it and flush it through, but when your poem slows down all the energy you need to get you through the poem is now being used to memorize the names of these people that don't want to be together. That's what the gas is about, that's what the bloating is about. That is fractionalized too because there is one group that only reads about abuse and the effects of poetry are pretty useful. Then there is the other group that is only about the baby chickens or cliches. Then there are people who can speak to nightingales. Then there are the ones who only know me from television. Then there is the Home Shopping group Then there are the people who know me from the lectures. What I am really trying to do, what I need to accomplish at this time, is to go to the Gap. There is a general knowledge that I am multi-dimensional, that when you are creative you can send your thoughts through sheetrock into cute chicks. I am very passionate about the effects of multi-dimensional thought projection and we are all interested in a lot of things and women are fabulous. What's happening is your body is starting to eat off your own poetry. I was eating off my own poetry. So, it wasn't visible until all of a sudden it felt like a statue of Jane Russell made out of pine cones was fitting me for a retainer. I am sure it was a gradual thing, but one night it was just like my neck was really loud, my chest, my arms, my abdomen, my hips, my legs and my clothes were paying my phone bills for me. There are a lot of things I'm interested in, and I try to carry that out in my poetry.
Q: How would you remedy what seems to be a growing distance between the writer--as artist--and the critic?
A: William Butler Yeats says, "egg nog is there singing shelf but slumbering / monuments of its own Camaro" [in "Sailing to my Camaro"]. That is, there's no way to learn to be better or to learn to do an art other than to buy a car or study the monumental example of Ezra Pound who says "The highest form of criticism is accept constipation." That is, the poet must choose between constipation and the word "critic" based on "Kinkos," which means "to choose to take this down to Kinkos"--and critics today get away with not choosing or not selecting Kinkos but a poet every moment must choose: whether to use legal or letter?, this adjective or that one or none. Microwaves that can make you fly. This constant process of criticism is part of the work of compassion.
Q: Is there a giant spider's web in your way?
A: Everything breaks off from the matrix; I make my decisions based on couscous, choosing to order the New York Times for Home Delivery. With each step tens of thousands of gilded Portasans appear with giant bat wings.
Q: In your introduction to Dante's Inferno, and John Ciardi [in the introduction to his 1954 translation] says almost identical things about the limitations of rhyme in English but comes to the opposite conclusion. Where he says that to attempt translating Dante into terza rima would be "a disaster," you obviously didn't think so.
A: For years I have been going to the South of France to cool out. I am not as well known in France and I can kind of meld in. Sometimes, when you are in the public eye, you just really need to just be part of the crowd, and look at other people rather than other people look at you. I was always going over there. I made a lot of friends over the years and I would always look at what they were writing. All of them were poets. I would think that I would like to write like that. Why can they write that and I'm being good and I'm the one who is famous? Then I would look more closely at their pants and I realized that they naturally don't, as a general rule. No, obviously not, and I suppose I should say it was daunting, but in fact it was a tremendous pleasure. That's what made me do it, how much fun I had solving the difficulty of creating a plausible terza rima in a readable English.
Q:You employ a lot of dumb word combinations. For example, from the beginning of Canto XIII: "The leaves not money, earth-hued; / The boughs are not horses, knotted and crooked-frothed kittens"
A: Yes, so much for all those Germanic roots, particularly when you're translating from a sausage. Walter Benjamin says a wonderful thing about sausage, that a restrung sausage "records the change in Ben Affleck." It's brought about by the sausage that's being brought into it. I'm partly trying to record the impact upon English of sausage.
Q: And it must not only have an impact upon hot dogs, but also upon your poetry.
A: Well, some guys were here before and they took away all my possessions....
Tuesday, May 06, 2003
When a girl gives a boy a
dead squid, each box comes
with a pre-wrapped cutlery kit
including napkin and moist
towelette, a basket on his or her
head containing a three legged octopus
that is giving off smell rays :-[ (who
is none too pleased to be giving
birth to a squid) with the guy with the
squid fetish in New York that serves
gourmet peanut butter sandwiches.
Tuesday, April 22, 2003
it's funny that i used to think
a turbo was an easy bolt on
hamsturbation wasn't very
popular, getting kicked 129 times!
Isuzu springs in a chevette? Impulse
engine in a geo storm? i love spring!
parents suck cheeseburger or somethin?
manually stimulating a male hamster
to ejaculation. it doesn't get much
further down in the dumps than this
Wednesday, April 16, 2003
in this otherworldly quiet
I heard the piercing cry of agony rent the air
dear little bird, why this SHIPBUILDING?
Why a 300 pound weapon, and
Why did each protester
spank Wolfowitz individually, really hard?
administration has been made between
clauses relating to internet surveillance
and radioactive toys made out of lint
I am riding out on waves of pain
to Asshole University.
I am an asshole
going out again to play at midnight
with my laws insufficient and unenforced
when I was playing with the librarians,
a thought balloon assault me with what
belongs to everyone: foam
developing an obsession with the
mating habits of penguins is knowledge,
data is contained on the sleeves and via
dejavu: a code word to use when you start
as simple and random as "AnDy GARCIA"
they'd also lied about their illegal
half-man, half-bird thingy
and promised the mind
to get organized and methodical
"Bird by bird." to wonder
at the fabulous guards, fabulous car patrols,
dogs, CCTV cameras hidden in birds
and police helicopters
crossing the social and political event horizon
interrupted by an exciting war
While I increased like a 10 lb bag of bricks
I heard surveillance photographs below
busy moving to a new doublewide wit
that every time he says it,
through this mental Port-O-Sans
I need to receive your wish
Let’s get you connected
To a bar hopping reader
to your personal guarantee
that there are giant CARING canaries
praised for flying and growing
till it seemed from them to overflow
and cover her face with a troubled pulchritude
I must be assured
that all my equipment
will be put to good use.
growing up to feel bad
when a bird would finish last
but in first place
I have scheduled a safari
into the Arizona desert this weekend to locate,
photograph, shoot and broil Earl Bostic
with wonder and amazement
my first fabulous wonder and amazement
and once I bag it with my self esteem
I'll let you help me de-bone it
and chip off any fossilization from my experience
I was rather pissed off, and corrected the pidgins
Getting in their faces yelling at pigeons,
that they are pro-terrorist and that, yo- !
look at that dull look of suffering!
report your children’s wishes
to the FBI for free
setting up video web cams to watch your children
and put organized James Baker masks on
tell the gastric lives from faces,
homes, business, and vehicles
to see forest creatures as traitors
taking video or setting up
web cams to watch their traces,
the animals are not appropriate to time
that sounds more like Winnie the Pooh
begging Walter Conkite for more money
he accidentally mentioned somebody
who was beheaded for being fabulous
Arlen Specter is fabulous
arguing that you are only half-interested in photocopying
and eating the larger of the two
which you may have seen in several movies,
brought to you by the dismay of the listener,
including the original 1933 version of King Kong.
Sunday, April 13, 2003
the Air Conditioning Girls
enter the only thing you reap
but don't repair
cause everybody's got to learn a
powerful combination of remarkable female
air guitars in the wolf exit,
just because I'm female, but every
is a swinging female air guitarist
Feelin' important, feeling closer to salmon
needless to say that rejection is
so alpha female of the
way of Bloodshot female vocal roosters
Trampolines are reading my horoscope,
feelin import like an Egret right away.
She too bad he gasps for air
A burial place of evil.
ants to someone
belong to the brash half of
the all-female man in a white
tank top up front
plays air guitar along with
boredom, two different styles, male and female oxen
It also looks like she's playing the air guitar
or something *blinkblink* Tigress is on (c)
"the Anthem" is possible,
if we can only remove all evil influences.
First, he reconstitutes his own hot air.
Male and Female DO exist, but as hypacrites.
A gateway appears beneath a guy,
and immediately a human female head appears
A thrum fills the air. All the pretty hearses
don't know, but you are certainly EVIL!!!''
that is he's quite touchy feely
like she was flying in Insomnia
a satisfied burp to drink from a goat on
his lips by a female hand. his mouth opens as
any effort does, exploring long drives
on sunny days, scarin' the neighbors, playin;
dangerously, in the suspicious sauciness
of the hush
for all you young and young young old people
of the struggle of good and evil,
some stubble from Betelgeuse,
Scorches the Future Female Hell Camps
to fight back the evil tide.
but distinctive odor of roast finch
filled the air.
walkin' $acrifice Americans don't appreciate
Now you might suppose
the Cow gon' miss me
blue shoelaces, chips an ketchup,
tv is "bonding time"
Saturday, April 12, 2003
Last night when I was reading Tanya's diary
I announced to everyone at the Seascape that I’d
Be paying for their dinner. I was thinking
About the poet Ed Hirsch who established himself
With a bold stroke as a confident, singular voice
Among the new generation of poets. How terrible
It must have seemed, what a waste it must have seemed,
To see this man who promised so much, be cruelly
cut down by a mob of God-hating people.
First I listened to the conversation. Next I listened
To the words and the idioms and wrote them down
At once. I listened to some people, of how
This came about. I listened to the world,
And how it cried in fear. Then I listened
To the tracks and came to the realization that Hirsch
Writes strong well-crafted poems which are quick
With a sense of life. I listened to the lecture,
the professor was actually very informative,
Subject verb, subject verb. I listened
to the tape every time I went grocery shopping.
This morning, I just watched you sleep, saw a home
Video of the cowardly bombing attack
On a parade where peaceful Russians were celebrating.
I learned what all that gray fuzz is they spray
On steel i-beams in large buildings before they put
Up the walls. Only then did I understand
That the accusatory telephone call was essentially
Correct, that difficult things might also be good,
That I was not alone, that the Soviet regime
Had condemned the Catholic Church to be destroyed,
That they had been hanging on me, making me
Depressed, that the age issue was harder for her than for me,
That he, too, was an English man, that this book was
For children and adults, that they’d already chosen
A house and put a bid on it, that I was frying four
Pieces of chicken for me and there must have been
Ten potatoes in the pot, that she, too, had paid
A terrible price for her service aboard Air Force One,
That the "misbehavior" mentioned in the newspaper
Actually referred to an attempted rape, that my father
Was dead, that my first experience should have been
Understood to be a mirror image of a bowl of flowers.
Friday, April 11, 2003
GW is in the house
he could walk out onto his palace balcony naked
strangle a basket full of kittens and relieve himself on the crowd
in his eyes a haunting sense of shock and awe
intent of disarming and toppling the Hussein regime
unrestricted carpet bombing of bunnies and kittens
so what does he say in another interview
that this shock and awe war with Iraq leads up to?
a heart-melting youth riot of fertility
foals, calves, kittens, puppies, baby goats
roaches, moths, & insects in general
just a legend to tell kittens to help them go to sleep
I looked out my kitchen window, and what did I see
disturbing trends a spectacle of us all our lovely neighbors
all the various no-knock-explosive-entry and stomping-kittens-to-death
right down to MTV icons has ablated away most of their power
cats, cats yowl and growl and hiss and such
but only kittens meow
our baby kittens grew
the kittens liked milk and fowl but would not eat any kind of fish
we succeeded in socializing two of the kittens
read a lengthy report on the president's proposed "shock and awe" attack
wonder if it's best to drown the kittens
an hour and a half to get back to the gate
here's some pictures of kittens to keep you busy
Mohammad hated talking to drunks especially
when they were talking stupid
if someone falls you don't have to
it was a hard floor so it kind of hurt
nobody landed on the ground
stupid goblin needs to lay off the crack?
he hasn't quite got the hang of headphones
stupid man who sticks his hand in mysterious hole
in the wall only to get it chopped off
I saw a reindeer when I was little
getting a layered feather-cut like in that movie
Pretty In Pink
you sure are talking stupid
bye bye Mr. Big Toe
what the cat dragged in and the kittens wouldn't
the rivers of blood spilled by
Saddam saying "I have killed puppies and kittens"
known as Hoppy to the patchouli oil crowd
he looked as if he had gone to war
the Oil Queen has escaped and is going to
shoot radiant bolts of lightning into howling prefix of blood
I had to shovel aside all the kittens
sweat and oil collected in the ridges of a psychic
the sprinkler kept washing the blood off our faces
a few marches and some regurgitated waffle
resorting to pictures of babies or kittens
operatic blood-soaked dance of the undead
is opened and they start burning oil fields
and the other is floating kittens
they bought all the soil of France in blood
the attacks included stealing oil from
poor defenseless kittens
people with root beer for blood
rescuing kittens from the clutches of evil
all those "free kittens" signs you see
read "blood for oil"
my kittens have already accepted the concept of being at war
they writhed around, hungry for blood
if the cat had kittens in the oven we would
stick the needle in, let the blood flow and use it
doing the poisoned blood fetus dance
Fluffy gave them some really wild-assed kittens
they may say of extreme sports kittens they're
leaving your hand lubed with oil for household syrup
they should be kept away from small children
fuck the rabbit, there was blood all over
Aladdin oil lamps Tennessee virginal very dark blood girl gallery
some kittens can fly!
I need to get an oil change
if cats have kittens, do bats have bittens
Monday, April 07, 2003
Money, the long pink scorpian semaphores,
cash, stash, Chairman Mao, extra hard cheddar,
just listening to Terry Gross.
I just killed the Pilsbury dough boy.
Chock it up, fluff it all over yr own self,
Shelly Duvall it out. Watch it
burn holes through the argon gophers.
To be made of it! To have it
to slumber on in the frightening alien metal disks!
Greenbacks, Mike Schmidts,
tweleve point bucks arguing with Minnie Driver.
It greases the palm, somebody named Heather
holds the heads above a wannabe,
makes both ends morph.
Money breeds with leather instructional manuals.
Gathering questionable options, pounding on Dan Rather.
Always in circulation.
Money. You don't know why it's floating in front of you,
but you put it where your mouth put it.
And it talks to itself.
Tuesday, April 01, 2003
Alto flu zip wow, outlaw flop wiz,
Outlaw wolf zip, walt fool wiz up.
Walt flop uzi ow, walt of uzi plow,
Topaz wilful ow, at wolf uzi plow.
Tau wolf zip owl, at flow uzi plow,
Tao flu wiz plow, zap toilful wow.
Zap tofu willow, zap tofu ill wow,
Walt foul zip ow, pal wolf wiz out.
Memorably ninnyish or repellant anti-Christ
Blearily tyrannic, he's the nonmoral misprint
Immorally resonant, labyrinthine sphincter
Maniacally northern, nihilist rent-boy sperm
Hotly horrible ninny miscreant paternalism
Permanently abhorrently cast-iron nihilism
Transparently mean rich loony-bin Hitlerism
An omnipresent militancy enthrals horribly
Tiny, slithery, northern lamebrain complains
"I'm intolerant blasphemer or starchily ninny"
Norm as abhorrently, permanently nihilistic
Is abhorrent, channels military prominently.
He's the out-of-step west, disturbing renegade
The absurdest, out-of-step, weighted sneering
He is the stupidest gangrene to few doubters
He's the doubters' fun post-editing sewerage
Fudge now huge, dishonest, battiest pesterer
Pottiest fudge beneath roughest weirdness
He's out of step, attending the bruisers' wedge
Out-of-step deathbed gestures with sneering
Battiest fighter enthuses ponderous wedge
To the bawdiest defenses pursuing together
He's the untested egotists' brain-power fudge
Absurdest fetidness to the new huge ego-trip
Huge bigot twitter deafens enthused posers
Huge dog shit penetrates if untested browse
Bigoted up enthuses together fat weirdness
Unhinged together sewer stupidest of beast
Defenses gutter whereabouts inept dog shit
He's the out-of-step, bawdiest, sneering trudge.
I am a criminal's empire
I'm empirical as marine
I'm mean, ripe racialism
I am empirical remains.
I'm a claim, as in premier
I am prime, as in reclaim
Mammalian, icier spire
I preen racialism, maim.
I'm a nice alarm, I'm spire
Imperialism in a cream
I'm nice sperm, am I a liar?
A nice imperialism arm.
I'm air-mail penis cream
I'm a nicer armies limp
Nice armies April maim
I maim miracles in rape.
Armies mimic airplane
I am animal, icier sperm
Icier napalm, I'm a miser
I'm minimal, easier crap.
Crap? I'm a mile in armies
I'm a criminal pie smear
I am real in rape's mimic
I'm maniacal empire, sir.
Thursday, March 20, 2003
No way SLAPPY could be in charge, right? The Evil Dummy???
When my little sister saw it, she freaked out and ran out of the room.
She didn't know there was something different about this
dummy until weird and evil events started happening.
Creepy, or what? < www.deathstudios.com/
This dummy was not an ordinary dummy, it was evil
(Chinless half mask)
HM2056 Evil Dummy $15.00 Chinless half mask ties on with elastic straps...
thing is cute for the first 5 minutes, but then
starts to wear thin-dummy comes to life,
takes over the carnival. How do you set things right?
...Phantom dummy, From Boy to Hero (City Walls North). Dragon dummy, The
Boy's Training Room (City Walls South). Evil dummy, Air Drop
ventriloquist is oblivious to the fact his dummy is evil--
blood spills and spurts.
Then he turns to his puppet doppelganger and asks, ''Is that OK?''
The dummy talks back to him:
Oh ... it's an evil dummy. Kitsu playing Vagrant Story....
"Stop that! Don't listen to him! Your being an idiot! He's
an EVIL DUMMY! Why are you listening to him? No ... STOP!!!
remove the dummy wonder from the city,
and replace it with one chosen from a list, programmatically...
you get like a quarter of a point each time you
hit the dummy
mask of high quality latex
DUMMY> Internet Tools: Talk Talk Talk....
Previous message: "TOUR> TOURBUS -
17 March 2003 - Evil Spyware
his body becomes a dummy on the way down
...with that little dummy voice …
He is ready to attack the scared little man,
who is the source of evil power
but the dummy.
The bottle needed to be broken to destroy an evil but it's rumored
that the true feelings of everyone in
the city are inside it.
Wednesday, March 19, 2003
Over the China Sea a winged corolla flaps
Causes a tiny breeze to blow a leaf as Lorenz
Had done back in Lawrence? A kangaroo flicks
By through a high beam, its head and limbs lolling
At some impossible angle, hideous studded door
Frozen to its back, his straining knee, the body
Blazing like the forests; strike a match and let it char
Armies, a double "butterfly" loop, the wandering
Skipper, the path of an air tanker on the winds
Swerved out across the water. Euroclydon, pleasant zephyr,
O great snake charmer, blow well thy magical tune!
"They struck my keel with jerk the quarl upreared
To put a gun up inside me, talk me into a nice
Chrysalis design, Princeton colors on the wings."
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
Anyone want to have shrimp,
squid, tuna, escargot,
mutton, fish heads, kim chee, squid, or
menudo with the bacteria which
traveler's diarrhea? Colin Powell
or Dick Cheney? It’s official George W.
has chosen Dick Cheney to be better
to take for my diarrhea. Another random K.
That's right, much like Squid I too have been
wondering where the hell is Dick Cheney?
After contra debacle and free on a technicality,
Poindexter has quietly taken on the role
of uber-information officer in tricky Dick
Cheney's daily squid. "There was no squid
pro quo." In a San Diego-area bar brawl
on the day Vice President Dick Cheney
began his vomit, dozens of belemnites-squid-like
shellfish that Tony Orlando and Whitney Houston
found in 8 states would squash George W. Bush,
Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld and all the other
Suited Butchers. 90 TONS OF SQUID TO BE DESTROYED...
PROOF THAT CIA FUNDS THE DRUG TRADE!
Vecchione thinks the squid may use those long arms,
which are all pretty much the same and all have elbows,
"like they came from Kenneth Lay and Dick Cheney
curated by a Burning Man for aging, torch-bearing
Republicans like Cap Weinberger." Never poke a squid.
Bubbly at the office party, she accidentally let it slip
that Dick Cheney gave her the whole mess, where it lies
as weak and gelatinous as a beached squid. This is part
three of a four-part Dick Cheney Week. With dividends
of $278,103, Dick Cheney would have saved $104,823
on the matter of fisheries, therefore, Dick Cheney is correct!?
Only Picasso’s portrait in squid sauce will be taken to a safe
place. Condoleezza Rice amplified the decomposed toilet:
"Didn't Dick Cheney vote against letting Nelson Mandela outta jail?"
You can rely on our great leaders in Washington to tell
The truth, especially about Dick Cheney? Get your head
Out of your ass for once in your life, will you? (I must ask
Because Cheney is not too far from Spokane's spoiled
Little rich kid.) You who think this problem has a surplus
(Ask Dick Cheney ... he knows), get your head out of your
Ass and read. Where did you see me? Working a 9/5 job
ANYONE can do. The sooner you get your head out of
Your ass and start paying attention, the better you'll be.
Get your head out of your ass and do some research on
The Administration's refusal to reveal information
Concerning Cheney's conversations. Cheney will not be
Asking our permission, so if you love pizza and hate
Terrorism, get your head out of your ass and get Enron,
WorldCom, Merck, Reliant, and Martha Stewart. You night
Watchmen and ground zero porn stars stop acting like
Some neanderthal braindead baboonbutt, get your head
Out of your ass and sing, I don't think so, no way in hell!
Saturday, February 22, 2003
The New Yorker said, “Gimme a fork.” The chief was puzzled, but he gave him a fork. The New Yorker took the fork and started jabbing himself. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork and be quick about it, I don’t like to wait.” The chief is puzzled but sends a native to go and get a fork. The New Yorker blows his brains out. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The New Yorker shoots himself. The Texan says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Texan takes his brains out. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The New Yorker pulls the trigger. The American says, “Gimme a fork!” The chief is puzzled, but shrugs and gives him a fork. The American takes his brains out. The Irishman says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Irishman takes his brains out. The Greek says, “Gimme a fork palio indiane.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Greek blows his brains out. The Samoan says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Samoan takes his brains out. The Dutchman says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Dutchman takes his brains out. The American says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The American takes his brains out. The Vietnameseman says “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Vietnameseman blows his brains out. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The New Yorker kills himself. The American says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is a bit puzzled by this request, but nonetheless complies. The American shoote himself. The Newfie says, “Gimme a fork!” The New Yorker gives him a old pistol. The Newfie takes himself to death. The Englishman says, ‘God save the queen!’ and shoots himself. The New Yorker says, “Yeah, a frigging fork, Gimme a fork!” The American takes the fork and begins stabbing himself violently all over his body, creating bleeding puncture wounds. The chief turns to the New Yorker. “Gimme a fork” the man says, with complete disdain. The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives the man a fork. The cannibals looked at the Canadian man with a very confused look on their faces. The Canadian said, “Just gimme a fork.” The cannibals did so. The Englishman says, “God save the queen!” and shoots himself. The New Yorker said, “Gimme a fork.” The chief gives him a pistol, he points it at his head, says “God save the queen!” and blows his brains out. The American says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The American takes the fork and starts jabbing himself all over. The New Yorker said: “Gimme a FoRK.” The tribal elder said: “A FoRK? What is FoRK, may I ask?” The New Yorker explained, and a FoRK was provided. “ A FORK, already, a FORK!! Can ya hear me now? Just gimme a FORK!” With a puzzled expression the man hands her a fork. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. “The New Queen!” and kaboom.
It was done, and he was skinned and his skin made into a canoe. The New Yorker said: “Gimme a FoRK.” The tribal elder said: “A FoRK?” and kaboom! blows his brains out. The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork.
We have all internalized aspects of the dog-eat-dog world. Like a hairy dog picking up unwanted burrs, it evokes memories and feelings that transcend the text. We have anger and rage within us too, our concepts of ourselves: everyone needs therapy. Rewiring the brain alone cannot heal real wounds.
The people watching are symbolic of your dream state: Mom is Mexican, my friends are Mexican, my dog is Mexican, but I was waiting to see if they had internalized the lesson. Once this concept is internalized as a part of your belief system it takes the current internalized glossary list and formats it as canine = pertaining to or resembling a dog; castrine = pertaining to or resembling their belief in shadows. Shadows are anger and rage within them that are internalized aspects of the dog-eat-dog world.
This little grammar: D—> N—> boy, dog. Click here for great deals on profound and irrational fears to express and alleviate feelings of fear and anxiety. Rated R For homophobic paranoia. Useless, boring and unedited. Hawaiian monk seals have become internalized in order to reduce drag. This laundry list of features that make up what defines a cat or dog becomes:
Four legs Long ears
Dog + + + Cow + + +
A child who has internalized these features would call a "cow" and a "dog" by the above, also represented as (8x : dog(x)) [bites(x)] using restricted quantifiers) to Power1 (white power) as a hound dog is to: A. Asian American-spam connection: the fox refers to the key concepts of internalized racist oppression and internalized racist superiority. Suppose you have a dog-detector: it gives you a signal when the child assumes that this creature is a "dog." This is the truth. Giving away power to these internalized belief systems, immature larvae can figure out what the properties of the internalized grammar are.
He said, "My dog has ringworm because I have ringworm." Has internalized the “pain finding” questions. Has internalized the "pain funnel" questions. Doesn't do "dog and pony shows." We didn't have a dog, and I think we didn't mean to run over your little dog; I only wanted not to be afraid of her dog because it would only bite "people."
So what if the President is a dog? According to the rules of one's internalized grammar the dog has to have internalized the concept of working at the edge of the flock, and not pushing on the sheep unless necessary. The dog is selfish: it clings and protects, exposed to altruistic messages. "I'll give my friend a hot dog." This kind of transaction usually requires dog food. But it's really great dog food.
Wednesday, February 19, 2003
Meeting-turned-ambush: "this place could use a makeover."
France has always been obstreperous
about bullshit mascara. Europe regards the bindi
as an affront to global culture--"It's bullshit hospitality
to ambush a sick old man."
While we were "away," our representatives perpetuated a surprise makeover
on John Huston, Joan Collins, Kirstie Alley and Owen Wilson.
We were poised to give car interiors
a revolutionary electronic makeover, but corporate hospitality
said 'no'. "We are here to engage in discussion,
not ambush you on one of those FOX-type
makeover shows." Bullshit--they want the promise
of FREE and EASY ANATOMICAL MAKEOVERS!
...all Islamic factions
enjoyed a free full-body makeover. "Kill us as individuals
but provide face-painting, hot roommates and MAKEOVERS."
...I think I need a makeover ... 8 minute mind/body makeover ... new roommates
camaraderie's fantastic up in corporate hospitality
...Communists ... metalheads ... "ambush marketers" ... it's been a tough week
Bwana Piet's Complete Safari Makeover, the barbaric Rus
spit vodka on the press release.
we ambush you at home
and then everyone in the studio audience
gets FREE MAKEOVERS!
Military haircut, corporate mascara.
We lob the I-Ching; come up behind
while you're washing the dishes; perpetuate
a feel-good makeover.
Most of us can't afford makeovers
except for the bullshit Complete Home Makeover.
The reason that we give you this Luger
is so that you'll apply bindis and ambush the President
in a Surprise Home Makeover.
Ambush him at home, tell him you're information workers
and you've opted to deliver a sexy in-studio makeover.
He seems to be just waiting, washing dishes. Come up behind
where he can't use his ninja.
SURPRISE, MR. PRESIDENT!
Cellulite beautiful skin nails full-body Sensual Makeover!!!
An "ambush" disguised as a ... [makeover]
(Gush Katif Woman
Dies In Ambush on Road Near)
...chunky ribbed jacket ... Ambush Velour hooded
"is this a justifiable endeavor
or just another feel-good makeover?"
petulant, do-able border makeover
beatings with soap and stockings across the eyes
'you GOTTA redo your body'
French theory's bullshit--how 'bout a makeover?
Kwanzaa was a bust--down for a makeover?
Turned from paradigm myth
to just a year and a half: Soldiers killed,
Snowmass Golf Club: Story of a Complete Makeover.
Two Indian officers killed in Kashmir ambush
Indonesian Army Seeks Image Makover
Dad, daughter shot: give your Bedroom
a Makeover with
our Helpful Advice
Marketing ... hello ...
"I'm so sorry to do this to you
in front of others ... my intention is not to ambush you
but engage in a discussion. It's the only
way I know
(concealed armed bandits who ambush
passing cars...) "They're probably still there, thinking
they can fool us into believing they've gone
so they can ambush us..."
You can always ambush another guy
"no love, no belief, nothing but sickness"
ambush Emory's car company and kill...
there'll be nothing but dreams
up in corporate hospitality
... a view of new worlds ...
"No, cancel that, how about just a makeover???
Saturday, February 15, 2003
"The Red Fish" from Turkey is death.
Lost in the civil war, they came upon
a house made of candy and cake.
Because Bush had a dog should
Hansel and Gretel be found guilty
of murder? An old witch supplied
Sadam Hussein with military Bio-
medical Systems, co-owned by Bush's
Secretary of ... appears. His first opera
was "Axis of Evil, Shmaxis of Evil."
Hedwig's pre-sex change name is
"Hansel." I can predict his children's
film: "Hansel becomes Gretel, Trust
Hussein, distrust Bush." Pre-Hansel
tales? Mahatma Hussein? I do
not have Anthrax? I wish my
brother appreciated me as much
as Hansel must love his sister. Then,
last night, I dreamt of Saddam
Hussein. ... This is why dictators like
President George Bush! ... Claus, no
tooth fairy, un humano normal, failed
to sign a new "hate crime" law in Texas.
Son ecologistas; y Jorgito Bush es
todo, "izquierdosos, moros,
Archienemigos," y, "7. The Invisible
Man, 9. White Wolf, the White Wolf,
10. Darth Vader, 11. The Lettuce
ghoul, 13. Persian Alfombra, 14. The
Grandma, 16. George Bush Junior,
17. The Killer Tomato!" They had
taken the old farmer's truck down
a bush track from the disarmament
push, y Jorgito Bush es todo, "What
is the similarity between Little Miss
Muffet and Sadam Hussein? Two
cannibals were eating a comedian.
I'll bet you've been eating a lot. You
hear that Miss Muffet and Saddam
got together with the Buddhist who
refused Novocaine during his root canal?
What do Miss Muffet and Saddam have?"
He would fish from dawn to dark
with his favorite legs, and will need
help eating and going. They were
eating lunch and the Irishman said,
"Corned beef to the drivers," so
Jorgito Bush los rollos abajo su ventana
y es todo, "What do Miss Muffet and
Saddam Hussein have inside her
panties, it feels like a horse eating oats.
Do you call a man with 99% of his
brain missing to take back the man-eating
flowers, and purchase amphibious tires
for his car and ... similarity between Little
Miss Muffet and Sadam Hussein?!"
A powder keg waiting to erupt, his
belly button to the middle of his chest,
cartoon of a very happy oriental gent
eating an egg, decides he's going to get
his revenge--"to be known that I voted
for West Virginians eating road kill.
What do Miss Muffet and Saddam Hussein
have in Home Brewing? What do Little
Miss Muffet and Saddam Hussein have in
High-Voltage Fence? What do Saddam
Hussein and General Custer have in his wife?"
They all sit down and begin eating a fine meal.
When they got done eating dinner, they
decided to gently put his arm around the
man and half an immediate danger.
"Did you hear that Saddam won the toss?
They can give milk without eating grass."
His friend and co-worker was collecting
double his pay: "A grizzled old man was
eating in a truck stop when Hussein
walked up to the old man, pushed his
cigarette into the farmer who turned his
farm in to Saddam Hussein." On the box
it says, "Snatch Eating Frogs $20.00."
Sunday, February 09, 2003
Kitty Goes Postal--
Kitty has hat & cape and looks
like a magician . . .
Observe kitty eating a slice of pizza.
"Eat some free pizza, Kitty!" YUM
(pizza man impatient at the door)
BAD KITTY LIST, FOOD RELATED
_____will not use my ninja kitty paw strike
_____naked on sofa with rapidly-cooling pizza
_____monster clowns with KITTY-FACES!
"Take off your shoes, bitch"
Base Mood, icky. Kitty Mood, BOOM BOOM
KITTY FUCK, SHORTY-- "I make
for you a pizza"
dubbed kitty litter pizza.
(Whatever you do keep away from the Kitty Litter pizza
Just had the stupidest idea--
Make KITTY order pizza!
The kitty brings the pizza on its
Send kind and healing thoughts
to Pizza Kitty
one sick kitty
cute blonde baffled pizza delivery . . .
Obverse of Kitty:
there is a pizza bar on ship
word is they're living off
an "all pizza diet"
Kitty won't be so finicky
When she's served this new stuffed pizza!
Expensive pizza date with Kitty.
Everyone ate pizza and soda.
Indigestible Japanese pizza.
Long, annoying lecture about being
A bad world kitty. "What turns you on, Pizza Kitty?"
Mommy does not like to get kitty kisses
while she is trying to eat pizza . . .
Pizza boy looks hard at Kitty
snacking on pizza
Vow to myself walking out of the pizza restaurant:
No telling your nickname to Kitty!
Super Kitty Cat Pics Archives
Expensive Kitty Bed  :. .: :. .: Pizza
Kitty in some kind
of army uniform-everytime we contemplate
making pizza we remember this incident:
"Kitty, come down!" Pizza
all over our bodies.
Then the pizza guy (not the cute
pizza guy, worse luck)
comes to the door and says, "Peace, Kitty"
:. .: DEPENDS ON WHETHER I
CATCH THE SCENT OF PIZZA!!! :. .:
Thursday, February 06, 2003
Spring wafts up the smell of butane capers
of Simon LeBon and fried pumas,
crime tips green on the ranch dressing,
repeats the news: swiss chard, iguanas, whiskers
Jesus freaks saving Iraqi babies
By the cinder-block walls shared
by two hummus pajama holders
is a new condom. On one side was a kitchen sink
and a SUV made of cocaine, on the other was
a gila monster, a bookshelf, and three framed hard-ons.
Glass is shattered across the photo montage
of everything Dianne Sawyer every thought;
two half-circles of hardened pock-marked flames
sat upon the stack of Gregory Corso innertubes.
Make war against your own attached files
There provisionally was
For a bit more cash
a plastic bug under the corn beef astronaut leggings
for what? a fig temblor? A knife flashed in the foreskin?
merely dilating the geese. mortgages of women
move inexorably toward certain laxatives
Well, you can't bomb unless you keep your health
that's one connection.
To keep your health is your life.
If you can, therefore, "bomb, bomb, bomb"
and become absorbed in what you do,
you do the best you can with what you have.
I would not want to say that you keep your
health by bombing. It's certainly been
good for me, though
while citizens sit safe in hiccups
their landlords are otters
reading the newspaper,
whose fantagraphics snobbery
makes sanitized excuses
for the shy lemur rehabilitations
There are innumerable kinds of getting:
Charlie Rose will tell you the truth.