on the clock

finally & see everything
I'm alright with my voice enough
  just us, hear the sound around what I make
can be a beautiful music
or a beautiful temperate weather
material list,
eternity ring lessness
this is how we do this is how we
  justify
making all that money
  standing around with a beer in my hand
  standing all over the place with hands and my beers and my limbs
  if this was a poem that would write itself
I'd be in the echo room
I'd be the coolest echo in the room
but I'm a remaining here, now
I'm a present here, now
but my room is so vacant
and so gorgeous
I wish I could
sure you
what's inside with you?
I didn't me, don't me
  to find someone who wants to be
    inside
I'd ME two
I dare me to
sometimes I look at myself in the mirror
and sometimes I think you'll love me

I made three bucks today

man, I just came back from the world... don't go out there

I saw a girl I don't care about, I dropped one of the books I was carrying

she said HEY how's it going! and I said fine HOW ARE YOU

and then I picked up my book

and she said, that's a lot of books

and I was like, yeah

so I tried to sell some books and I only got $3, for a fucking Murakami. I don't know, I've never read Murakami 

I guess I can't talk shit, it's what the people want

I went to the bank and I got $100 out of my bank account

I saw a model, a tall tan with black on, and shades, and honey hair, and a cellphone

I had to go to the store to get beer

I got the ones with the fox on it

and the watermelons

because tonight I am going to write a six-pack story

& it might just be my ticket out of this two-bit town.

But while I was buying beer & only beer

I noticed my shirt

its big sleeves are cut off, and it's haphazardly bleached

on it reads MORE BEER in pink comic sans

& I'm thinking when I wear it I will always be thirsty

on this day

In the wintertime, everything you know which lives is dead, and if not dead, asleep in a powerful example. I was making love to my dictionary yesterday; it is a dictionary used to belong to Mrs. I.W. Stoddard, also known as Aunt Mae (I wear, usually, her golden ring embossed with our shared initials on my wedding-finger), and she wrote this name in its front cover in March 1940, so this I know as I see it writ right there. The book is rubber banded as pages of it do fall out in haste. Well anyway, I discovered a good many words and somethings about myself, as well: for instance, I am quite ashamed to have written down so many words beginning with specific letters to form a sort of acrostic telling the story in a short graphic novel I've written. There are a few such runon sentences typical, and also the gratuitous use of large words I can't define. (I must get ahold in me a cold cup of beer.) Also typical. But I wonder? Could I get ahold of a rather large and impressive dictionary with whom to make love? I hope it. Listen... I have some big ideas. This is too personal for the intranet to bear.