the (sub) tropic of (pre) cancer

woke up in the kitchen  saying how the helld this shit happen oh baby

to practice

the why?

remember the garbage destroyers, the ones

who takes the reproductions you do

of you,  the waste you

think you made enough of

from the black notebook on the table, an open letter:

I am sorry I doomed it on the drive, in the dream, from my body a day after

those little caresses on the 

hairs of (my?) a heart

coming true

giving me yours, make it

I'm glad a glad a

it started pouring down tropical rain 

and I went out into it

and Chad came out, flipping off his slips

and soaked himself in January

January in the Tropics

you deserve your name

invisible limbs

a cloud of verse

make me

full

  funnel

you

make me forget

that I'm my month

 and I'm hunting for my

full

  wolf

going out

waiting is not moving. shaking limbs out isn't staying. I cleaned I cleaned I sprayed, I even cinnamoned the ants out of mine own evil, watch them shake & burn. isn't that just, why you gotta be so mean. the party neighbors are at it again. mine whine friends, my dad & his friends. they're good, they only really remember one or two stories from my babyhood. or else there aren't enough good memories. or else two just stories for them to shaken their drunk heads & their squint eyes at. When I'm their age, they warn, In 34 years I'll be thinking, Weren't those the best times. thanks for making me look down at the bodworld I've made all shameful.

on not getting real

how many daze
what happens? in july
what happens when it is suddenly subtle sad breakfast & walking to the river in the heat becomes tedious & tiresome
stop by a greencovered pond, a pretty mossy blanket teeming truly,
to say, We have to keep walking, I'm angry, I'm not in the water
and we got to the river, saying, Sorry for being an asshole
& you underbreathing, I don't care, or Whatever
sitting apart
wondering if we are..., if we are near enough too much
some silence
is this the sad starts
saying, You're leaving really soon.
I know. so. is it?
are we going to be? are we holding hands, will I reach constantly for you? is it growing
on me
in that sort of way?
the good admittance
the reaching around for arms
measuring limbs against mine
length of brown forearm & mine
You know my body intimately
Don't you know I'm all legs?
spidery, leggy smooth thing
Feel this branch, instruct
worn away, green & fresh
rub on it together
I'm just moving in
later, the big dipper barely hazes over
I am good at the sad afar, keeping it
somewhere in some future
for now, just brains simple enough, bodytruth
plain beauty
nothing further
no worryables
these are the subtle anxious dudes in us
acceptances, all of the who-cares whatevers
  to share

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

impulse $$$

it was a sad summer

their names were vermilion beard, sad mouth

it was a sad fall

their names were aubergine hair, squishface, eyelashes

it was a sad winter 

their names were eyes

it was a sad spring

their names were hipbones, limbs, flesh

a bag of lemons is a bad sign is a bad notion idea indication

"if someone takes your idea it isn't really yours"-  go to work

"if I am the only one alive I am all of the life"-  go write in your diary

do you remember when we ate mushrooms

and that kanye song, all of the lights 

showed up

and I fell into your sob shoulder

and you asked me to tell you why 

and I said, it just reminds me that everything is as bad as it seems

did you know that kim kardashian has ballooned to 220 lbs since getting pregnant?

that she has ballooned to such proportions that kanye will no longer speak to her?

I read this off a magazine at kmart two weeks ago

when Nickey & I were buying toilet paper

and she desperately wanted a pop tart

so we were looking among the magazine racks for impulse buys

we thought pop tarts would make a pretty good one of those

based on the hit song AMAZING GRACE

kids keep naming their kids Gracie, or Gracey, or Gracee, and I wonder, so are these kids naming their kids Grace & making it easier on them 

to deal with such a supreme sort of name

by childishing it & making it easier on the come-out?

Because the ee-affixes 

are sweeter sounding on the tongue.

Because I'm thinking, in my mind (it's where I think)

as this kid's giving birth in the hospital

or in her bathtub

is she moaning out about how graceful it all is

how this parasite's been inside living off of her for most of the gregorian year

a creature pushing out uncontrollably

about ready to kill her, & finally

that it's filled with blood & skin & miniorgans

and all so grace-filled?

with its little closed-eye expression

& toothless scream-out,

that she, that it be the grace of god?

Gross.

There was a girl in jr high with me named Grace

(& we called her Gross, pretty mean)

and she had posters of nsync on every inch of her room

so you had no idea where the walls were.

I never was inside her room

or in her house

but we were neighbors so when she had her lights on at night

I couldn't believe it.

I mean, nsync is good

but really?

Maybe Gracie in her little stupid babybrain

knows totally that she's just got to get out of there

she's gestated

she's turning

she's got limbs, & little healthful graceful organs

& a little angelic face, so they say when she comes out & they rub her down in soft towels

& stick the baster in her nose

& blow out her kid mom's fluids

so she can stop breathing what she has been

& come out & do it like a human being.

Maybe Gracie in her little, insignificant mind

with her eyes already open,

& seeing better than I can 

or you can

looking about, speechless, graceless,

is thinking 

hey

I got out of there

& it was a prison

& I am a free man

& I will tattoo the world with my fullness

& I am eager to devour it

with the windows open

with the blinds shattered,

that Curtain City is closed until death

which is way, way too graceful & far away

my waste is quieted

From the early morning I toss around, considering arise and a flow of me into day. The black & white animals surround, and I, limbs askew on tiny bed free, awake. I don't have obligation to the telephone, or to the doorbell. I have my own rose portals, portrayed through a door and the dog, I prey, won't sound a cry at the basic intrusions. They live all about, quiet as gnats, save when the fruit grows foul & the flies move, multiply. My sun shivers, my sound shivers in an isolated building's edge kind of way, like the glimpse of a glimmering skyscraper scrape against the blue back of a day. The backgound, and in it revs a distasteful engine. And mine own engine in it's revolutions per second, imploding high to headache heights. Piercing the sky. Mine own revolutions carrying me so. Bite me, we do.

could have been some vocabula affected me

In an example of ample defenestration, I watched aflutter down my little wills and ways. 

If I could have, I want to

Events of a week: evenings, everflowing aways 

my tempered little heartsac. 

Standing, platformed at hours between earlymorning & latenight, darkhair in a face which I wouldn't let wipe away. I body and limbs, hot face parts, mouths. 

Sweat-ed.

I wind

6 June

ariel pink's haunted grafitti

I like almost all the world's things. Liking a cool dark, bottomless wish cupping away that it could come by so I would have not but to swallow it down, serviced & de uglified.

I, hearing music having watched long hair, grow through the air, limbs brushing against the wind.

if my vagina could talk it would scream

It's just minutes later and I want to welcome you all, mainly myself, to my new blog, though I hate the word and wish I could find some other, a pun, even. But unfortunately nothing blogical comes to mind, I'll infact undoubteldly have to deal only with what I've created. 

I am going out on a limb here, and every kitten knows a branch must be thicker than the average to hold more than one. 

Thanks! Can't want to have a new  thing to do