01
three poems
#1 cool kids commoditizing the wolves and their moon, theyre missing the point there’s no point at all. it’s to free fall, spiraling down in an anguished howl, tongue stuck out and crush(n)tig scowling cranstlooge frailing hideaway no sound only a lonely and head-slightly-tilted-conquered frown.
#2 swigworth penny saver tall and resquiended like a frantic cum gatherer, cheating wives trachiaded numb threets and histamine recalls crashing unreliably into swerther rank cat’s heel ties. and the unabashed headswallower ,namesaker, reel catcher feeding crows bending backwards calls up the trishcantanty ollie boys for another root-hearted neatly kneeled gathering. and the escalating crow nighs, as the slim thighs and freak highs swim into transient towers where unnuanced they dance while their rickety pillars sway and sway and sway… oh the luxuries of a squiggle, that delicate trembling line…
#3 big pink gaze to never wash and swether in, slick cruise airby passengers taking time inward with tucked in heads, chin-touched souls and heavy-ass breaths… smiles and flickering lids — but here, me and my stick feet planted on a big green grass, we’re sick toed and weathered. my wide blue eyes gaze up and suck in the pink glow and make pink swirls in my pink skinny tummy. crazen fallows sweeter than i can speak of… just big pink mallow dreams that i shut my useless lids toward and lick all over.
… (i giggle when i’m done and wet-lipped ask for more)
i’ve been doing a series of short vids for the last 5 years called “records”. they come infrequently and unplanned. one was on my trip to guatemala, one on the passing of my dog Rose, and one on friends from school. this is the fourth of that series. i recorded the music and images one night in my room in attempt to make some sense of my feelings towards the gigantic american flag that serves as a curtain for my balcony doors. it adds an overwhelming aesthetic to the space, but i keep it there to remind me of the nature of where i come from. it makes me feel small, fragile, yet charged with an instinct of servitude. i see the flag and i see secrets, brilliance, terror, pretty colors, patriarchy, elderly women’s hands. i’ll never know what it would be like to be non-american, and there’s part of that predicament which bums me out — and it’s that part which inspired this film.
put out new shit, shit out new put, finish grad school, get new teeth, fix trucks, plan that trip to big bear, get a new coat, wash my old ones, see the hobbit, play an entire show with at least one nut out, get a gig bag, stop by la fort, grow out hair, kiss someone and mean it.
