A rolling stone gathers no moss; A rolling rock gathers no...

28 December 2008

Borneo Grass Snake

















Aurora borealis, she said, like a fawn nudging brown mushrooms
for worth. "A young creature, we'll say, testing it out,
maybe a magic spell lesson, bad or good, maybe a sniff
gone awry, maybe nasal curiosity." Whatever the reason,
Angela was taken aback -- Aurora, the goddess of dawn,
had awoken. "Your job!" she grieved, her countenance
lowered to the refractory dining halls below her tower
quarters. "You cannot possibly make breakfast in time
for your orb's precious ascent."

"That's true," said Dawn, "but I'm not hungry."

27 December 2008

EVER

Lonely little love dog
that nobody knows the name of

give your life to be that

switch switching off voluntarily
like a man returning his car keys
to his mother
in a fancy restaurant:
"You were right about
her," he says.

"Yes," somebody recalls, "but
haven't we been down
this:::::road:::::before."

Which is funny, you see,
because we hadn't
ever been there--

Coffee Might / Gun Spring

now you truly know the secret, but so does everyone,
they all watch you in the theatre.

Mister Toad, His Wild Ride, Et Al,
Dear, That is, I should say,
This is my title: capitulation
To the rude girls outta town
Back coming from; this is your homeyard
Which should be a word
Calcify or strength / Brush or floss

Where there are fish
There are bigger fish

Like gasoline I’m distilled
Into various aliquots / burn my palindrome
A MAN A PLAN A CANAL, PANAMA
Central American tales of fire
And losses worse than coffee blight.

26 December 2008

i hate my name

twenty-five years ago, whats his name,
came up from below.

never going back again, a dancing fool,
flies around like a grocery bag.

now he's walking on the phone lines,
tapping two-time, making friends and enemies and disconnections.

i heard his sister has a big kite, likes to soar high,
to steal the earth from the satellites.

now when we go out daylight walking, we know they see us,
so our bodies wear our brightest colors.

yes that's the price we pay for drinking, from the fountain,
that no one told us not to play in.

it stinks that all our foes surround us, call us by our name,
for they are the ones that named us Larry.

i wonder when the stones and rocks will rise up, sing hallelujah,
then do away with both scissors and paper.

no one has ever heard that mountain, scream in ecstasy,
our ears are too full of children.

so take the time to wake the lover, winking at yourself,
finding only what you hoped was not there.

now you truly know the secret, but so does everyone,
they all watch you in the theatre.

25 December 2008

PlantNap

magic...
the call of horses & foreign porches
purses pursuing purchased Porsche's
and handmittens lingering in nightlights
slug seven times trailed
like Doug paled in comparison

to his firstborn newsy timeline
plot, forage, deceive
a twisted mister / spraying water / plantnap

occasions such as these broccoli
for the unholy knee

knells departing and quickening
threads of music strong-licking
every last corner of the noses.

24 December 2008

Christmas Eve

(C H R I S T M A S
eve is like dreaming about
sugarplums & fairies faxing
jingle.

Smoke coming from chimneys

impossible yule log
descends from glowing clouds.
Is this fire? Or reindeer's
nose... modern magic in the tale
and the short bobbing trail of
magical snowflakes
that follows Santa
wherever he lurks.

Santa lurks not. He jollies.)

16 December 2008

GRE vocab surfeit

Now they're training us like picayune pygmies
wearing pj's... meretricious words to take in
brains like testicles, when the pith is hidden
by the pitch: the ball's path is specious, capricious;
it is, in other words, a knuckle-ball. Given to
freakish notions and whims. Given generously?
Why, that's munificent. Salutary, for example,
means healthful, also salubrious. But dare I be
pedantic? Betraying a scholarship lacking in
common sense and relative motion? Which is
important - the relativity - for even a taciturn
mouse (not a peep) inures fracas when seemingly
saturnine rats prove mercurial, all along, the
truth obscured by an opaque window that fronts
-- what windowed effrontery! -- the rat's
capacious home.

13 December 2008

INS Mysore, MV Gibe

We're getting away with Somalia.
Pirates at night grenade lights soar/
bones into a dark globe. Morse code.

What's more cold than a pirate, straight old
like an island rum fermentation pro-vi-sion.
Robbin hoods like I'm chillin with my goods.

Trying to be those number one guys. Coasts
grow towards you at night, coves come
under your girl's blouse. Some impossible

Blagojevich, toy czar us. Wasn't the last one
a tyrant? The man tyrannosaurs in black
gold bands; black neon snow seas, Aden.

Ethical Pragmatism


12 December 2008

Ermine Daughters Swap Coats

maybe not more moon-caverns tonight.
tonight, i'm going to tell it like it is: I fly
kites all day likes i am told to. it is the only
job available to me in my county, but by
Jingo I've got to be the best kiter in the
bromine!
painting in which we live

the pain painstakingly entertaining
the idea of shining less brilliantly, and
then it expands, it enlightens, in brands
its demands upon everyone surrounding:




yes, this is the birth of my conscious. yes,
this is the birthright of my father's father's
father. this is the weight of a million gray
cabooses letting out their steam, perfect
unicorns, urinating in the shadows

exploding prose so that nobody knows
what to fucking think
well, get a drink, puke in the sink, fuck in the pink,
clean chicken off of bones
in public

as at Rendez-Vous, World Famous Ribs in Memphis,
TN, Since 1948.

11 December 2008

No More Pomegranates?

Which is more interesting: Word-babies or baby-words?
I prefer the former, like the fruits of a dictionary tree
like::::orange:::::ads::::::spur::::::sprees of citrus shopping,
days on the blackberry, distracted from the task at hand:
buying--well, berries, of course, grapes, lettuce, I could go
on, but I won't.

Ok, i lied: POMEGRANATE. Lie over. The only time I
raw:::ate:::one

was in Andrea's kitchen in Palo Alto. It was sexual and weird,
the fruit, that is. Her boyfriend prompted me to see it akin to
cunnilingus, which isn't gross per se, but IS pretty weird
when actually eating

in semi-polite company.
No more pomegranates for me.

10 December 2008

fern / cancer / daylight / boydrapes

layers of ferns elongate in perfect harmony
to make a fern-layer. you already knew it would
happen: all your house plants have been quarreling
for years now, and it is high time that
somebody does something. green plants? green
quivering bodies? "no locomotion," botany
department memos read. they have to remind them-
selves of these things: no muscles, no brains, just
green cells making life out of the sun like ingenious
brainless chordates. chords ate in the music luncheon
what they spoke of: feelings and scales. on this level,
all the meatsacks are empty, and speak of longing for
protein and something more substantive then a word
that means mealtime in every walk of life. sun. carbo-
hydrates, getting high on forks before being eating
or getting distracted by sunscreen and cancer-fears.

02 December 2008

Watching Apartheid TV

Does nobody blog any longer? Is it wrong to
take pistol shots in anger? (At the dangling
participles just now participating, at least,
) I smell something, honey, like minced meat
oats suit the money men adventuring like
day-glo boybands in bondage wear
:::::trying on their delicate torture gear
"How do I torture you?" One eager stag
asks another. "Here, I think you twist this
sprocket... Oh yes, that's it," he trails off,
murmuring incantations

of slain vegetables like broccoli who hold
no malice towards those who eat legumes.
(Think beans.) And boyband toilets where
the business gets down, and the million drab,
indrawn, loathsome places where ordinary
things happen to extraordinary people, but
nobody listens.

mint eater: take 3



the blogger buzz

is that the full slug cinema,

the orchestra (like they had

in the old days) exiting its cartoon doors earlier

this morning. from here, i

can see everything:

your wallet, her sidecar, your dad's

people. your jubilee is not yet over,

is it, father? or do you wonder


how we got over

train tracks


like mints in a man's mouth;

this isn't just any man, it's

a mint eater.

26 November 2008

Dragon Fly Agony Awareness Day


(To be spoken aloud,
sternly)

Dragon Fly alert:
Dragonflies warn fish
of approaching fisher-
men.

"They're coming,"
the message goes.

In return, the dace
(meaning carp)
don't eat glittering
darters (meaning
dragonflies) during
courtship.

It's an unspoken agreement as old as
the fish are.

20 November 2008

Big Greg


If you were to approach any middle-aged female and ask her about legendary post presence "Big" Greg Ostertag, they might tell you a few things. And those things would probably be insightful and perhaps perverse, but what they would fail to mention are Big Greg's humble beginnings. Let us flash back to March 6, 1973, the day that Big Greg was transported into this world via vaginal technology.

After Big Greg clawed his way out of that damp womb, his mother could tell he would always be husky young gent. From a very young age he actively peddled cereal variety packs, Ring Pops and cock rings. His bartering skills showed promise and he certainly had an affinity for the Super Mario Bros. animated series on PBS.

It wasn't long before Big Greg, shunned by the kids at school for his flat-top and horrendously long sperm stick, found refuge at the local arcade: Aladdin's Castle.

Day upon day upon night Big Greg could be found battling with various miscreants and scat freaks for tickets. "I want to buy the big Dumbo!" he would shriek, his voice exuding 60% agony and 40% excitement. The goth kids and grunge stoners would stare at this monster, now standing at 6'10" at the age of 15, wondering how they could "go all Gulliver's Travels on him and shit." Green Jelly and Jesus Jones poured out of their headphones like invisible rays of rancid milk before they all finally agreed to take dumps on Big Greg's Minnesota Northstars Starter jacket as it laid unsuspecting in the corner by the Skee-Ball machine.

And that was when Big Greg's life changed forever. As he stood outside Aladdin's Castle on that fateful day, feces smeared on the "N" on his jacket in such a manner that an average bystander might confuse his allegiance with that of the expansion Minnesota Backslashes, a man walked up to him.

"Do you party?" the middle-aged man asked Big Greg, wearing a tan Carhartt jacket with tiny flecks of what appeared to be semen.

Big Greg sniffled before replying, "Fuck yeah, pimp."

An instant friendship was born. Before long, Big Greg and Cum Jacket were spending all day playing the basketball shooting game at Aladdin's Castle. Big Greg became so skilled at the game that Cum Jacket hooked him up with a scholarship to play at Texas A&M, especially since Big Greg was also really into agriculture and mechanics. That plan was spoiled, however, when Big Greg and Cum Jacket committed several fairly serious acts of felony battery on the shit culprits on their last day at Aladdin's.

The two fled to the state of Kansas, where Big Greg quickly became a Jayhawk. He played and stuff and was eventually selected 28th overall in 1995 by the Utah Jazz. Finally Big Greg was rich. He proceeded to buy a brand new Dallas Stars Starter jacket (they moved) and began to dabble in homosexual affairs. After 11 unremarkable years in the NBA during which Big Greg averaged 4.6 points and 5.5 rebounds per game, he retired to a quiet life in Dubuque, Iowa, where he currently munches on mad bean pies and tugs his gonzo dick with reckless abandon.

-- Billy Boklit

19 November 2008

Tribulation, especially

Everybody misses somebody.
Everyone leaves
somethings like velvet dresses
and other things valuable
we covet like unthinking eyes
forgetting sorrow, dancing
in the mind's eye even
dreaming of the days
which will soon become themselves
--they have to--they say: oh, what
a tribulation!

Tails

Where do they
leave

or do they rather live
like prehensile tails
acting human-like.

Yes, I have observed
trumpets of varied origin;
I have rumbled through
many-vined valleys
shaking them likewise
to their very fiber.

<>
Fibrous roots make elemental
kits; every flower is favorable.
<>

Mentally, and, “by chance,” are
the same thing.

Silly boys
slain pulling weeds

of dusty toil hey!
Finger blood dark red
inside my healthy finger.
Stay that way. Be safe. Finer.

17 November 2008

What kind of food have you grabbed?

What kind of fruits have you snagged
from the fruit vagabond? Yessir.

Got those thorny kind from down
by the well. The eaves displayed for
us, dispelling thus / our doubt evident

fearsome people are people still
people still moving like decibels
through different apartment's bevels.

Yes, I excell. At Quiddich over the
naked wrangling well (where the
under-thumped are indifferent,
finally, Estonia, quelled) and

find frompy friends at the frat
house. Sometimes I slept at the
library. Sometimes I slept at the
countertop. Some nights I hooved
it to the country shop. Nice shows
there. Nice shovels; they dug well.

He whom is Doug has dug smells,
like electricians light up the night:
when I see big cities I think about

advances in construction technology
and electrical engineering. These
things become very extraordinary.

Goblin Eggs / Maple Syrup



Two New Hampshire youth--Helen Smith, 14, and brother Mason, 11--look upon the Granite State's first pair of goblin eggs. The sprightly vermin would hatch later that day and eat the entire Smith family.

14 November 2008

Seven Muddy Children & Dad

I always boasted--
"I have a great picture of
Seven Muddy Children And A Dad.
And they all laughed at me! Oh!
Oh, How they laughed!!! But now
I'll show them who's
boss, and make their
premature laughter echo into
blinding light, good morning:

Nightslug Deputy

Snail's Deputy Reports

November (Snail Month) Report 1

Dear Snail,
I am a nightslug who unloads chimneys
into the gray, pottywatered Pollywhattamee,
hence it's naming.

Sprees are common here; Winners and
losers alike tamper together in the street
of their night's meaning, like
whimpering lovers... and perpetuated
appetites linger.

This is the land of plenty &
live-longer dads, vitamins,
babies. Wives and (optional
) fjords abound.

Pollywhattamee ain't perfect,
but it's home!
...to us nightlugs, anyway.

12 November 2008

Amigos Forever

We're Americans, goddam it!
We should never be without marijuana.
Celery city and dice bikes
of brains made velvet by said
plantations. Amigos.

04 November 2008

Celebrity Blog Diet: CELERY

Nancy eats a single carrot and one stick of celery
per day. Isn't she a beauty? 100 pounds, scant
lack of perfection, nice buttocks. I could see biting
into the thigh of that.



Hi kids,
This is Nancy. Nancy likes brooms.
Nancy likes to fuck. Nancy likes to fuck brooms.
I'm sorry, I know it sounds rude. There is just no
other way to put it. Simply no other way.

28 October 2008

Live from Stand Firm

Stand firm, Stanford--for you are the Cardinals,
full of bulls-eye-students and blondes and Asians
already come home. All ready home.

24 October 2008

Literally The Best Thing Ever Written (Pt. 1)


boredom / freedom


adore them, bleach them, spores
on them - there’s more on ‘em

but that’s just the epilogue’s momma-
grin: i’m like the heaviest sediment -
along - again;



-- "A longer row, a longer trim," says Farmer Jim --
one day dirt, the next: Grey’s
impediment (Spearmint is running from the President

& i’m so filled with precedents) i meant, antidepressants, clay
or simple earthlike material our evidence.

(oh, soil: too many adjectives: a
detrimental element to setting
agenda vernacular in elegance,

t e m p e r a m e n t

E X P E R I M E N T

like Vulcan’s wolves
are spectacularly delicate,
prehensile predators of testament).

the next day preciously i define rivers like large-
mouth bass trophies: oh, how the fireman's trophies
light up the glen,

well, so long, again, i’m off to the boss’s mint (yeah,
that fat posh gym) to print out some mint julep’s
and fake orgasms in public (with me elsewhere

your wherever hair the color of the atmosphere) all
this -- these shenanigans, again! -- out of sheer boredom
or lament, ...or gin.

23 October 2008

A Man's World



This is a manic's world, after all,
folder open, carrion on
the grill, Bill, just flew it on that big hangar rig
yesteryear, I swear...

...I suggest puppet patterns with the best of them, supposedly all I have to do is trumpet and a bird comes
Like thumbs learning to be green rather than being born so, so, so... shameless,
coming out of the womb alive and shiny and brine

saltflats belie flats of salty slats, crustacean fossils,
sediment, tectonic--oh,
when you talk about the crust, just
remove it Ruby, just undress your chest
with treatures unheard of and holy words
under the breath... i'm already here and I've
never been nearer to
next to nothing.

And yes, I'm not bluffing.

Believe In That Thing

Bloglife cinema and relaxation
my creation being: having no limitations.
for what this format is good.

plastic tables are surprisingly sturdy.

orange girls are all the rage at State U., apparently.
...although what's funny is: they look like Oompa-Loompas.
cannot imagine the mental gymnastics involved: "Boy, my hue, as churlish as it is not--meaning, were we Victorian-era, I'd be fashionably porcelain since you shall never see my skin working in the cotton fields--it could really use a digustingly fake orange Tint."

When I was young I went to an arcade called "Tilt." I never thought about this before, I don't believe, but it was a really good name. Tilt. I makes me a little sad to think that the first thing the word brings to mind now is: DRUGS. I.e. being tilted by them. Well, was the earth ever perfectly level? The answer, I think is yes and no: Yes we were selling it, but no, it wasn't blow.
...actually, though, the earth is practically perfectly flat in Champaign, IL and throughout the Land of Lincoln.

(If I'm going to have somebody take a seat next to me at a coffee shop, it sure as shit isn't going to be an old lady or a dad with his toddler. Fuck)

...so, we Midwesterners, by which I mean: Me-- ...I was raised to expect this leveledness. The earth isn't supposed to tilt or cram itself up into unimaginable mountains without grumbling. Sure the earth rumbles but I've only really felt it once and thought in my half-awake state that it was the residents BELOW were having spirited premarital relations. Like I said I was half-asleep.

I come from the prairie. Although it took me until about 1 week ago--which is to say, 24-some years, many of them the formative variety on the self-same plains of the Fighting Illini--the sunset really does turn Orange and Blue. Brilliant orange and blue and a million screaming derivatives of twilight beauty.

The first question I will ask my wife will be: "Are you the kind of person without whom I couldn't imagine watching the sunset? Or watch it without you--and be sad? I'm always sad..."
...when I watch the sunset, she said.

...Drugs.

...Anyway, it--Tilt--was just an oasis of childhood where I played the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle game. I eventually beat it several times, but only at birthday parties where we got an absurd amount of tokens.

...You know those parents who gave their kids more tokens at their birthday party? There were always a lot of parents like that. At the risk of over-stating my point: FUCK THEM. Fuck them, fuck them, fuck them, even if they're celibate. They are the kind of people who produce kids who don't like dogs. Or Dougs. Or, more importantly: ME.

Peace.

Blog wonks (Epilogue)

So blog-like tonight, expanding like
turtle fingers inching on-
ward, the onion Backwards (on the
prison bus word wearing
meaningless features like
topography).

22 October 2008

The Newsman's Arrival

I. Winter.

latest snowfall soon comes
mushroom moons and loons strumming
us to sleep with sleep's eye, her fur brush;

tomorrow's meal isn't mush yet, not much
for us guests already
but enough to not discuss

instead, the details of the war:
These people are staking
claims for pastures and steaks.
Thus, This must be done.

while rabbits hide in the bushes,
like us incapable of fake-blushing
or erasing what is not in us
to begin with:

there are so many arguments,
i cannot finish a sentence.