Photo with 2 notes
Does a hole punch leave a hole
or make a hole or punch a hole
if it punches a hole, must it punch
out the hole? is the hole then the
circle of paper cut out? or is it
the space left that has been ‘punched
out’, born violently?
I am on the west side highway in
stopped traffic with taco garbage
to my right, writing.
Perhaps I confused life with words
in that crystal simile.
JAY REATARD -> DEAD.
CONTRA -> #1
Photo with 3 notes
Life like a sun-sized crystal
around which I orbit walking
Always some plane shining
One or many, close or
spread apart by miles
But I a plane shining also
This is a very incomplete picture
though pretty (a pretty thing can
never be beautiful - Wittgenstein.)
I would need be part of the
crystal and also seeing it, also
penetrating and being penetrated.
“the aim is to be loved and not admired.”
Photo with 1 note
hey NJ poetry peeps - submit to Lamplighter to see your stuff on a glossy piece of paper instead of the internet if you’re into that sort of thing
Post reblogged from moon tzu with 4 notes
moon mirror 1
you’ll never see steganographic substances appearing in a dirty mug of oil
mixing in and crystallizing in a harmonious pattern
you’ll never see dirt sink new white water
or pre-mushroom cloud downside
up in a pint-
glass wall-
gluing ice cold water
in five cubes at the top
of a mug in my heart
ive seen ink blossoming in a pure glass of water
resisting and moving in a chaotic pattern
ive seen stars flare ultranova black lighting
and post-mushroom cloud upside
down in a shot-
glass window-
splintering white hot lightning
of ten million atoms in the bottom
of a glass in my hand
Link reblogged from learn and live to tell with 35 notes
mirror poem 2 →
you’ll eat four meat sandwiches tomorrow morning, you and him
it was 8:45 pm and you had no laundry left to do and I’m feeling good
I always make it sweet, you tell me
the meat was rancid, left out by my ex-girlfriend Gary
they’ll eat it still
:’ [ you know I wouldn’t ever
I shattered my phone
you said “i was fucking watching Game of Thrones on that”
you had never asked me for much, never read my chat history
but you’ll fall asleep alone without any part of me
above the sheets while i’ll be buried in blankets
I made you biscuits and gravy like I never had before, out of Bisquick and glass jars
with beau monde and no sausage in the gravy
I’ll say “there are no secrets in this recipe, it won’t do”
you’ll say “exactly” and leave your beer unfinished
you haven’t been drinking much despite turning 21
but you’ll start again soon and swear off edibles
‘dying’ as an IRL antagonist said long ago
you never told me about your actual friends, only the worst ones
the ones you fight with over nothing like music and poetry
i think those things are very important
i post them all over the internet but don’t have a good reason to
except to share myself to anyone who feels online
i shat my pants in the living room
and tried not to smell it
you never even think i might be satan, you don’t
see the devil in me
you’ll cook fresh produce, pay for everything
I’ll say it’s gross, but you won’t even eat plants from a supermarket
and say “it’s all so terrible”
true but your restrictions compared to mine
you got nowhere reading my chapbook
you never substantiated it’s beginning, or knew what that meant
i just ran out and remembered you reading and ran back in
to jump on your bed, though you told me not to
keep it up, asshole
i pounded at the oldest pillow and laid next to the couch
in the room with you, getting human liquids on your oldest pillow
you felt really great, because of your new soberness
(you’re hungover) despite your unavoidable downward spiral
positive you’re headed there exactly where you should have been
i hide that i am nowhere special
and you’re in the city eating sushi and going to parties with models
later you’ll figure out that one of us really is better than the other
you knew exactly what not to tell me
tomorrow morning you’ll put your wall back up, stay silent, thinking
“in the night i’ll lie in a field, wearing louboutins”
“i’ll delete his number in my phone or at least rename it douchebag”
i’ll never speak up
“why”
you’d say
“you know why”
i walked the minute to your house though I didn’t feel like it
and you were much happier than you are now, alone
with your old pillow on the unmade bed slowly making you sad
but when the field is full without you you’ll feel much more relief
pleasantly obscured
i said goodbye to gary for you. forgot to give her the forty-minute folk rock tape you made
it sucked anyway but she has terrible taste and would probably have liked it
you probably have a good sense of what’s terrible in folk rock
she was truly a terrible girlfriend
you know she “never thought about anyone other than herself”
gd
you just made me feel terrible
think you’re on your way to hell
we drank two bottles of wine last night, you and I
now it’s 8:45 am and i have stuff in the washer and you’re vomiting
it’s always sounded violent the way you do it
the wine was recommended by your new boyfriend Gary
we didn’t really follow his recommendations
lol did you expect me to
you handed…
Link reblogged from learn and live to tell with 5 notes
the last one to kiss the criminal loses (a mirror poem) →
you will find a particular real moment you watched on reality tv
it will be called ‘false queer polyamorous hateful loneliness fighting to the death’
silence. so you’ll keep driving in the fast lane of I-53W, stay in the driver’s seat, and turn on the radio
crying he’ll say to you, “wa wa wa wawa dad is this like, legal or something?”
later there will be 6 broken radios around you
outside there will be a not-scalding-but-somewhat-warm reusable bottle of heroin laced coffee
you will run up the hill to kick it further away, he’ll stop crying
later you’ll ignore your happiness with him and stop writing about anything other than that day
at that moment, you could be anywhere and he’d say “i’m staying”, “forever”
in the driver’s seat you’ll go straight for the stack of classical music cassettes
as he stays quiet and you put back the spoon you’ll be holding back in your left sweatpants’ pocket
(you’ll never give it up) and proudly rub the round edge of it against your dick
it’ll be the furthest from what you could do to stop yourself from throwing cold / old images clumsily around his mind
you’ll stop saying out loud “a failure to keep the balance” and “conor lived for your love”
i was looking for some imaginary place i had read about in richard scarry books
it was called ‘true heterosexual monogamous loving relationship mating for life’
lol so we parked on the shoulder of I-35E, got out of the car, picked bluebonnets
laughing she said to me, “ha ha ha haha baby…
Post with 2 notes
variant 1
in the garden in Brooklyn
where we tried to find our friends’ souls
in the diversity of roses
(Easy Does It, all orange and ornate was Wendy
the drooping purple witch cap climber, Marla)
i hesitated to hold your hand
because, like me, you are a man.
and so i held it tighter
and the sun shone still
and the rain fell sweetly
and the children still played, smiling
like you, my love!
