I am so sorry for all that is wrong with the world.

This other Eden.
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills:

For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings.

For within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king,
Keeps Death his court .

BC

The spine before the flesh.
The hat before the breath.
The smoke before the tree.
The war before the fence.

A spark before the flame.
A bed before the blame.
A shark before the saw.
The teeth before the chain.

The laugh before the joke.
A cough before a smoke.
The flame before the fire.
A wire a wire a wire.

A Reckoning

in the red chair,
in the corner.
in the evening,
in the rain.
in the wakening,
in the theater.
in the dusk light,
in the same.

I am sleeping,
I am flying.
I am mustard,
I am tame.
I am lonely,
I am tired.
I am passed out,
I'm the same.

What Is Everything

In the bagel store on a Saturday morning, giant babies order very specific lattes (double chai, half caff, 2%), and sit outside with their dog on the portable dog bed; sit inside in their giant baby running gear; wonder where the line starts, wonder which baby should order next.

"What is that?" one says, pointing at the reflection in the silver steel counter top.
"What is that?" another says, staring at a cup of fruit.
"What is that?" a giant baby squeals, unable to contain her excitement.
"What is everything?" concludes another.

Realizing that this, this explains it all, the giant babies try to nod in agreement, but their neck muscles are not fully developed and their heads flail.

Several Dream

In dreams--You
give birth to squirrels and I
chase coconuts into deep blue,
crack them like geodes to
reveal the gold inside. Then the spring bridge

gives way, and we
fall through,
crack our heads on the rocks below
wake up as
rolled, wet toilet paper, Marty's dad
saying, "It'
s OK. We
can
save them!"  (The CPR only

squeezes the water out,
creating a puddle below the hospital bed.)

When I wake up from this I'll say, "I had a dream that I was a human, and I had a life and dreams."
Something will ask, "What do you remember?"
I will respond:
Nothing in particular. Two others. The squirrel. And every tiny second following.

One Syllable Short Of Haiku

I wouldn't want to
be a part of any love
that would have me.

Don't Walk away in Silence

I am sitting on the couch.
I am staring at the wall,
The wall with the darkened tv,
The wall with the darkened hearth.
I am sitting on the couch.
My back is to the window.
I am sitting on the couch.
I am staring at the wall.

An Egyptian Digital Legacy Haiku

"Death, here we come. We
are not afraid of you, but
you of us." -Facebook

Wait.

Wait.





Wait.



Not yet.





Just a little more time.







I'
m not read
y.



Wait.

Dreamless Sleep

I have a hard time sleep
ing at night I have a har
d time falling asleep wh
en I can't sleep I stareup
out the window up at th
e trees towering in the y
ard their dark shadowsf
lexing in the breeze and
I am out outamongstthe
ir cold indifference I ha
ve a hard time sleeping a
t night I have a hardtime f
alling asleep when I can't s
leep I stare up out the windo
w up at the trees towering in t
he yard their dark shadows flex
ing in the breeze I am out out am
ongst their cold indifference I hav
e a hard time sleeping at night I
have a hard time falling asleep
when I can't sleep I stare upo
ut the window up at the tre
es towering in theyard th
eir dark shadows flexin
g in the breeze I am o
ut out amongst their
cold indifference I
have a hard time
sleeping at nig
ht I have a h
ard time fa
lling asle
epwhen
I can'
t sl
ee
pI
s
t
a
r
e
up
out
thew
indow
up att
he tree
s in the
yard thei
r dark sha
dows flexin
g in the bree
ze I am out out
amongst their co
ld indifference
I have a hard
time sleepin
gat night I h
ave a hard ti
me fallingas
leep whenIc
an't sleepI st
are up out th
e window up
at thetrees to
wering in the
yard their dar
k shadows fle
xing in the bre
eze and I am o
ut out amongst
their cold indif
ferenceI have a
hard time sleepi
ng at nightI have
a hardtime falling
asleep when I can'
t sleep I stare up o
ut the window up a
t the trees toweringi
n the yard their dark
shadows flexing inth
e breeze and I am out
out amongst their cold
indifference
I have a ha
rd time sle
eping at n
ight I hav
e a hardt
ime fall
ing asl
eep w
hen I
can't
slee
p I
sta
re
u
p
ou
t th
e wi
ndow
up at t
he tree
s tower
ing in th
e yard the
ir dark sha
dows flexin
g in the bree
ze andI am o
ut out amongs
t their cold indi
fference I have a
 hard time sleepin
g at night I have a
hard time falling as
leep when I can't sle
ep I stare up out the w
indow up at the trees to
wering in the yard their
darkshadowsflexinginth
e  breezeandIamoutouta  m
on  gsttheircoldindiffer  en
ceI  haveahardtimeslee  pin
gatn  ightIhaveahardt  imef
allin  gasleepwhenIca  n'tsl
eepIst  areupoutth  ewindo
wupatth  etreestow  eringin
theyardt  heirda  rkshadow
sflexingi  ntheb  reezeandI
amoutoutam  o  ngsttheirc
oldindiffer  e  nceIhaveaha
rdtimesleepi    ngatnightIha
veahardtime  fa  llingasleep
whenIcan't  sle  epIstareupo
utthewin  dowupa  tthetrees
towering  intheya  rdtheirda
rkshad  owsflexing  inthebre
ezea  ndIamoutouta  mongst
theirc  oldindiffer  enceIhav
eaha  rdtimesleeping  atnigh
tIh  aveahardtimefall  ingasl
ee  pwhenIcan'tsleepIs  tare
u  poutthewindowupatthe  t
re  estoweringintheyardt  he
ird  arkshadowsflexingint  h
ebre  ezeandIamoutoutamon
gstth  eircoldindifferenc  eIh
aveaha  rdtimesleepingat  ni
ghtIhav  eahardtimefall  ing
asleepwh  enIcan'tslee  pIst
areupoutt  hewindowupa  tt
hetreestow  eringinth  eyard
theirdarksh  adowsfl  exingi
nthebreezean  dIamo  utouta
mongsttheirco  ldi  ndifferen
ceIhaveahardti  m  esleeping
atnightIhaveah  a  rdtimefall
ingasleepwhen  Ica  n'tsleepI
stareupoutth  ewind  owupatt
hetreestowe  ringint  heyardth
eirdarksha  dowsflexi  nginthe
breezeand  Iamoutou  tamong
sttheirc  oldindifferenc  eIhav
eahardt  imesleepingatni  ghtI
haveah  ardtimefallingasl  eep
whenI  can'tsleepIstareupo  ut
thew  indowupatthe treesto  w
eri  ngintheyardtheirdarksh  a
do  wsflexinginthebreezea  nd
I  amoutoutamongsttheirc  old
indifference

Deep Shit

I live in the vericose veins of society. Oh what? Shit. Damn. That's deep. Yeah, and that society is a a disease. No, wait. You know what? I'm the disease. Whoa. Fuck. Me. Shit, man. Yeah. But she. She is the the antidote. Fuck. She's as pure as snow and innocent like a child. Like like damn. Yeah, I know, right? She's a saint and I. I need to repent. FUCK. I need to cleanse my soul and take my medicine. Shit, or this shits gonna fuck and we're all shit fucked in the damn vericose deep down in the the the disease.

My Feet, at this moment, Are Tingling

These are words going together, letters going to gether and measure the great frankness of nodding.

"Iunderstoodupuntilthepartaboutleather.:"

Well, says the narrator, that's good. That's good that something not written makes sense, as we fall into this typical post-modern construct, delineated by proper punctuation. The narrator talks about himself in the third person, but talks about others as if he's dead and they've forgotten him, which makes him a third first person third person omniscient limited narrator. Right? I think that's right. Or should I say, "He thinks that's right."

In other news, the baby I'm having is a squirrel; sandwiches in Winters are hard to come by; and Martin Luther King has a pretty direct connection to Johnny Depp.

I got a haircut

Today the summer seems endless: empty days stretching to the horizon to be filled with whims and glad routines. Today is the promise of bike rides, of day drinks, complicated recipes, of The Price Is Right, of nothing. I am sitting here at 5 in the evening next to a just sipped cup of coffee, in no hurry and happy. I know tomorrow it will be August already

Disneyland Part 2

It's a tender thing to say, "I got this Diet Coke for you. I got  you this because you looked thirsty and I know Diet Coke is what you drink these days." It is meaningful when one, not sure how to say anything else, asks, "Would you like some Nutella and pineapple?"

In other news, The burly usher at the Disney light show belted the lyrics to every song in the "World of Color" medley; at some point, ice cream is replaced with Monster; and high school students wear Disney sweatshirts that say "Husband" and "Wife," fully aware of the emptiness of these promises.

Disneyland

Pounds of flesh converging aimlessly in crowds: That these cells, here, glob into meaning and become this thing in a starbuck's line, black pants tucked into neon green shoes, craving connection, and these cells, here, converge to run down a half empty street towards a dance floor, fist in the air. This thing and all other things breathing.

A shortcut from nothing to nothing

An attempt to write a perfect paragraph: of stained glass windows made of death, of raised instruments in the silence of the moment of the end of the dirge, of the paperwork that is the cost of living.

The 90s

Color without irony

Short letters to bass players

1. 

Your band is the Napalm Death of bands.I can also see how many times your singer clicks on this blog after searching his band's name.

2. 

Your pants look like lycra tights, and I think your drummer's dad wants to go home already.

3.

When you make that face, I want to laugh. I can see your wrinkles.

4.

There are too many of you, and dreadlocks are out.

5. 

You are not playing while you sing, and you are singing someone else's songs.

Man vs. Food

Oh boy. I think I've done it this time.

Oh boy. I think I've made a BIG mistake.

Did you se that?

Yeah. I don't think I should have eaten that, despite the challenge that had been issued.

I thinkk the guy said three pounds of egg.

How many eggs do you think that is?

Most people don't measure eggs in pounds.

Shit.

And if I sat up straight, that pile of  hash browns came up to my chin.

Oh boy.

I think.

I think you might need to call someone.

No, no. Not an ambulance.

But a doctor maybe?

I'm not going to die right now.

I'm not having a heart attack.

But I do NOT feel good.

No.

Oh man.

Shit.

Constantines in the Day Time

Holes in memories; The trip without the stay. Here's what remains:
Sitting in a van.
Arrested by a cop in a Camaro.
Falling down through the ceiling.
A picture of shotgunned beers.
Shoeless contrabass.
Stage frenzy !!!
Polyester pants.

Young and far away.

The mortality of waitresses

The mortality of wai
tresses, of bu
sboys, conven
ience st
or
e cl
erks.
The loving memories of bic
yclists, of pedis
trians, of the driv
er in the Ford passing me on the I-5 at 4:12 in the afternoon on a Saturday when I am tired from traveling, focused on the talk on the radio on my phone, wondering only why this man is passing me on the right, my only thought of him.
 The mortality of wai
tresses.
The finite life of a par
king enforc
ement o
fficer.
The fleeting moments of a groce
ry stor
e ca
rt wrangl
er.
Of a mai
lman.
Of my neighbo
r.
The forgotten plans of the ma
n who cooked my food, the ma
n who rented me a bicycle, who caught a football on the beach as I rode past, who traveled from Brazil to serve beer at a sports bar, who bent down to pick up his dog's shit as I averted eye-contact, who ordered the slice of pizza just before mine.
The mortality of wai
tresses.

Of billions.
The secrets they must have. The lives I don't notice.

The infinence of these labarythine paths. So many directions not taken.

An Old Neighorhood, A Former Place

It was a small world: Little Debbie snack cakes, quarter bags of Cheetos, old saltine crackers, oversized beers, ice cream, teenagers who knew his name, addicts, a conceptual barter system, consistently wrong change. The ends of a universe that were measurable, visible from the security camera behind the counter, daunting, suffocating.

It is the poison cup. It is too late.

It does not end in nothing. 

It ends calling forth to begin again. It ends with a promise, 400 years old.

The Past, The Present

This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother.
...
And now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
And I watch my old comrades, how proudly they march
Reliving old dreams of past glory
And the old men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore
The forgotten heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, "What are they marching for?"
And I ask myself the same question
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda
And the old men answer to the call
But year after year their numbers get fewer
Some day no one will march there at all.

(I looked at the place where my legs used to be and thank Christ there was nobody waiting for me to grieve and to mourn and to pity)

Pretending Decades w/ Bushy Beard

Pretending decades with bushy beard and curled mustache, our herringbone knickers stay clear of the big ring, Bing rings, Tig wigs, mustard and ketchup. Tongue and groove, native tongue, sunset. I know better. I know that these cheese chips will go straight to to my hips, straight to my lips though, in they go, move my jaw to and fro and hem and haw about the big bar's bar brawl brah bro hoedown bro. I go, "I'm a stowaway stowed away (blown away) and led astray by the anti-gay anti-May Day nay say." I say "nay," they "yea" and ballet on an airport runway for sport. Well allow me to retort: "Listen to me report, distort, mash and wort, contort, glort, belort, fort, fortress, hortress, hostess cupcakes RIP."

Music for Sunsets

People
is
music
for sunsets
for big SSSSSing
through bike lanes
past surburban library parking lot solar arrays
under clouds big CCCCing
in robin blue
People
always
come
ar
o
u
nd

Itssunnyand75Itfeelssogoodtobealive

The Shaming of the True

Last night, driving home, a hole opened up in the sky. I thought it would swallow me. I thought, at the very least, I would crash my car while staring into its luminous nothing.

(Once, we were lost in London's white canyons, walking in circles, the waving flags circumventing the void. (

One day, we will sit and sit and sit and sit. We will walk to the refrigerator and will stare into it. We will take out the plate, remove the plastic wrap, and eat the remaining slices of apples (alone).

I am overcome. I am having a hard time breathing.

     )                                                                                             )

The Bottomless Pit at the Edge of this Trail: Best Recordings

It is hard to blog about music while listening to music, but here goes.

Most Meaningful Music

Probably more important than the "best of" list that follows, these songs and albums meant something to me in this year of our L0rd, 2012.

1. Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea I had some drinks when I first conceived this list, which is why this is first.

2. Burzum, "Dunkelhet" The Wisconsin landscape-view that is the bus ride from Oxford to London and back again urged me toward black metal--this song in particular, at full volume. Runner up: Darkthrone's A Blaze in the Northern Sky.

3. Bon Iver, Bon Iver, Bon Iver Winter in California means rain. And this.


4. WHY?, Elephant Eyelash I am drawn to this album when I am far from home. Once, while sleeping on floors in New Zealand, I listened to the first two songs from this album on repeat until I fell asleep night after night. This year, I used it to drown out the Farringdon street noise. I also quoted it's opening track on Instagram, which is a sentence that would not have made sense a year ago.

5. Cap'n Jazz, Burritos, Inspiration Point, Fork Balloon Sports, Cards In The Spokes, Automatic Biographies, Kites, Kung Fu, Trophies, Banana Peels We've Slipped On and Egg Shells We've Tippy Toed Over Drive home sing-along.

6. Morrissey, "Everyday is Like Sunday" See #1

7. Rites Of Spring,  End on End In college, I stole this CD from my roommate. This past year, I found it on vinyl in a famous London record store. But even before that, I could not stop listening or stop looking up footage on the internet.
  
8. UNK, "Walk It Out" For some reason, this is constantly stuck in my head.
 

Best of 2012

In no order, these are new audio things that stood out to me in 2012.


1.Godspeed You! Black Emperor, 'Allelujah, Don't Bend! Ascend
2. Mount Eerie, Clear Moon/Ocean Roar
3. Swans, The Seer
4. Anatomy of Habit, II (When I typed this, I wrote "Anatomy of Hamlet")
5. El-P, Cancer For Cure
6. Kendrick Lamar, Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City
7. Die Antwoord, Ten$ion
8. Tig Notaro, Live/Professor Blastoff