mom was a muslim

mom was a muslim 

daddy washed towels 

ground glass on the ground 

gravel in the atrium 

i pooled my assets 

into a clay bowl 

i drank blood, 

i fought strangers

my name is Mishek;

i arrange graves 

for talented Christians

and Frenchman too

the question is the answer

the question is 

would anybody read 

a catalogue of your sins

of your dumb pleasures and conceits 

your mistakes and odd passions 

years after you pass

the question is 

does it matter to record

the sad passings of the heart 

to put them down 

to let them go 

of course letting them 

vanish is 

as important

as any task -- 

the question is not who we want to win but who we care about 

the question is how to become black again 

what happens when you don't back up your claims?

the question is how, why, whom… the question 

remains there like a lingering antibody 

the question is: to have sin? Or escape from it 

the question is the answer 

in a fervor, hands clutching gold, one wants heartbeat

one wants fame, wants reason, wants glory 

wants simple heartburn, wants reason 

the heart wants what it wants which is to go 

to remove oneself from here 

to reach out, to climb, to grow 

the vine is a master, the slave is a cold-calling coward 

the man is a master, here and now, strong and roaring, alive and 

livid, ripening, growing 

the man can mend himself, the man can grow, the man can do 

whatever it is he sets his mind to 

The man is self-talk therapy, the man is 

getting better, indeed 

freestyle poem #791

put your feet 

into cleats 

take a name and number 

put it on a list 

burn it

buy boy's books 

look at the sky 

go crazy with 

whatever who 

knows / cares / 

is willing to, 

did't know 

didn't want to 

i've done everything 

i've discounted all

this band

is bland white fury 

kill Craig's-List- 

Internet-selves not 

tapped into a rhythm 

disruptive 

like "kill all men"

said the feminist 

on Twitter but 

fuck that 

The Catholic Re-Organization Pyre of 1846

"How couldst a fire help us reorganize?" Little William
asked the County Deacon, at the Feast of St. Spadersburg.

"Our Father of Infinite Opportunity & Justice For All
hath made it so. Now go along and sow some oats!"
said Deacon John Jacob Justice, virtuous friar.

Preparation for the conflagration continued. Zachary
put on his trousers and lit his stove; mother was not
yet up and he wanted to impress her with his heft
and forbearance. He lit some pipe tobacco while he
was at it. He thought of the blaze to be, and smiled.

Across the marsh, Marcia was just waking up, and
threw a few hooves into the pot. The glue wasn't going
to make itself, after all. Glue was part of it, too. Glue.

But how many lashings doth a big fire entail! Dove,
and her tag-a-long Zoe had been doing commercials
in the Capitol for weeks, but now come back to Fred-
ricksburg for the big event. They had been lashing
together lengths of yew for days, and Corvus had
helped them pile the fescues in the plaza center.

Elephants & birthdays (07 July 2014)

1.
(swimmer bitten. The winner with swimmers on)

the swimmer was bitten at the entrance to the path
up the mountain. he whom detailed the corn in the
rose paths has led himself nowhere
it feels good to get all uppity
about begin downtrodden.

the bedraggled boy was bitten
by a god on sunday. he was
third in runs allowed on thursday,
but on friday he said he would
by god allow this all to take place
it was good, God's doing.

It was God's doing--it was good.

2.
the humble origins of the cave cricket

Owls Top Bankers, 1-0

The Sante Fe Banking Commission--

God, what an institution! I mean--

the pageantry! The depth of actuarial 

prowess! Ardent men with white pressed

shirts who return day after day--

except Fridays, often, and the four 

weeks vacation they take--and many Mondays

during football season--

…but I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Where was I? 

The SFBC! Oh Dear Jesus, Thank You

for God's Bankers, these men--their 

love for burgers, the love of clean-

liness and slavery, to one's 

passions--banking, that is--

Where am I? 

God help me. I'm weeping. I'm 

really weeping. 

2nd Field

Not the first field, okay? 

But the next one, 

behind the third, 

where the snakes are 

eating mushrooms, clouds

grow in the clown's belly 

and vroom the Macaws shake 

lose folds of laughter like 

crackling thunder underneath 

the moon startling! wow! 

sinister briefly bits of 

brain-spun cold wound home this

bit of tomorrow's feeling,

a man kneeling and homeless by the side

of the robe 

the cold heart where the worm turns 

tomorrow into tomorrow and tomorrow 

is today. 

Absurdist transcription derivation, since you asked (the gushing world)

1.
there are no signs of the gushing world.
it appears rag-beat.

this crashing of paper, completely negative --
this is a person minus belief, soon.

anyway i'd like to solve the knee-bow problem
crack faith, yah? crack some books?

so my idea is to explain:
it not feasible. you've already
knelt. you've already written.

i imagine the origami way
to solve this.
fold your wings together;
make yourself a valley.

if you could see inside,
it's peak & where?
lauded & high, right here,
waiting for a pattern to appear.

This computer has no idea.

2.
cold wine, grape; it's ok.
i was patient at some time.

at first the holes were small.
but hills become mountains.
the solution is perfect, right?
the model says good things,
& bad things too.

...is a crack portable?

Transcription 1 (95% real)

there are no signs of the gushing world. it appears rag-beat
this crashing of paper completely negative--cannot do you
grind home. this is a person minus belief soon.

anyway i'd like to solve the knee-bow problem
crack faith, yah? so my idea is explain it not feasible
so i imagine the origami way to solve this.
Yoshimura sector, for each side this is a cue and valley.

if you could see inside, it's valley and valley,
so our problem is in-between plus and minus zero
(tarrow-meter)

in jurticle. sorry. for joining to some kind of pattern can be appeared.
the is not interest. interest material. you can see the positive.
to explain this, computer has no idea.

The origami solution cannot be the science proof.
...

cold wine, grape, 's ok. patient at some time.
 Initially small deformations, this is more commonly known,
this is valley, mountain. Like 'ddicted. To pick cowl.
Some kind bigger pattern appear. This solution is perfect. But this is a fold line.
…pour it in, okay. if you're adding...

The model say good thing and bad thing too.

...Is a crack portable?

[Literal transcription of what a talk sounded like, from a Japanese scientist who I couldn't understand]

Mush

Seven readily available folk singers at your service
Three left-handed, two dyslexic/ambidextrous. Two with no arms.
Army of one, carnival sun --> prodigal nun.

Refired beams of mushed potatoes
Globetrotters waiting for the Rupture at the Potomac
"Major Announcement to come:
Decaffeinated = hard to spell"
Coffee with the coffee smell

"Yell and scream and shout" is redundant
a sentence unfit for public consumption
simultaneous humming with sumptuous gumption

This makes Harold hungry
famished for parsnips
of the garden variety.

Aphids!

Magic

Men and women are magic,
not meant for ordinary lives.

not on this day

There are people involved, in the, incident. There are mouths and women to feed. Babies. There are mannequins to stand up. There are

There are

whole countries. Dilapidation. Depr
ivation.

Departments. Whole bodies of

code & words

there are countries

there are women
with brown, flat bellies
there are children

there, ah, mud,
there's a mudslide

there is a 17-year-old named J------ wrestling in Ohio mud
still a v-----

there is a 17-year-old named D--- running around a track
soon to learn about the planes hitting the World Trade Center

there is a 17-year-old named S------- doing cartwheels
on a thin, elevated beam. She will be your girlfriend.
You will be her first. She will teach you how to love
again.

There are

winds, currents in the ocean, there are mud-beams,

there is no light in places.
there is cod, there are cold dark places
and desperate men who fish,
there is love, there is sun
but not on this day.

some words on friday

sprouts of a new fresh day
the uncollected people looking toward each other
are we a bundle?
a microcosm of violence,
a virus in a penguin's blood

damn stanchion of a nation's poor,
belittling your demand
for your own satisfaction.

i believe in longevity.
i believe in freedom. I
believe in everything you've
already taught me. come to the
boathouse, nude, and i'll
give you a robe.

2
seen through new eyeballs
this classroom is a curse
a feast for eyeballs

seen through prison bars
her body is a banquet
albeit coming with a fee
like an ATM from a rival bank

3
i'm so fucking sick of sitting here

Such is life

Drinking chai tea
doing tai chi
try to remember the last time I was creative

words used to flow from my body
like music to my ears
lately it's like pulling teeth
as ears stream down my face

yes, ears. Lest I dream on, as the years
pile up
faithless and drowned, not unhappy but worried
not rushed but certainly hurried
unmarried/harried
and so on
and so forth

every floor

every floor

is as ordinary as

every other floor

a million floors

stretching out, from

here to eternity,

floors covered in

linoleum, sandalwood,

expensive linens,

birch bark, pine shavings,

floors covered in mud

floors made of earth

floors smelling of catnip

flooring supplies salesmen

leaning on their wives

after a long day at work

dancing on top of bars

tables become floors

men dancing alone,

men dying alone,

human beings crying

to touch each other, to

reach out like arms grabbing

falling money

I have a farm!

I have a horse!

I fed it poison!

there was a time

before the war

when I still believed

and now instead

I spend my nights

setting fires in alleyways

& jerking off

and now I'm done

with the hotheads,

the unbelievers

and the gentlemen brides

cool calculated birds

landing on wires

flitting between oaks,

between evergreens,

men hiding in broom closets

boys with bright eyes whistling

bright corridors leading

to darkened rooms,

women with dishpails &

cards carrying loose slots

(The Loosest in Connecticut)

...

now arm your souls & arm

your minds with nonconformity

because a new wave of manipulation

is pouring down on us, pouring

over everyone you've ever met

and it must be resisted. 

as the floor holds the feet 

holds the body & the mind 

resting regally in that head,

the beautiful head of yours.