twirling umbrellas through you

my head is getting very cluttered, so I think I'll take a break for a while.
figure out how to clear it.
here are a few leftovers to snack on. 

thomas jefferson's silhouette




your un-tamable tree
is my mime coach




explosions in the sky




feel the free
fall sky
dive baby




it's all coming
your way
so open up
wide

8:04 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

vampires just need a smoke

there is a sickening crunch every time a car drives over the shattered
 glass sitting outside my window. Some asshole decided to smash stuff
 at 3 in the morning this past weekend, and my fist-sized kiddie dust
 pan failed miserably at sweeping it up. so, now I  wait for the shards to
 get so small that they barely squeak, barely sparkle in the sun.


arrrrghh, it's fucking hot outside! when I step into the sun I instantly
 become a melting butter sculpture; ejected from the walk-in cooler
 because I didn't win a ribbon at the county fair.  the only cure is
 fudgsicles, creamsicles, and diet coke. oh, and air conditioning but
 who can afford that kind of bullshit? maybe I'll set up a tent in
 Rainbow's frozen pizza aisle.

this is music. I can't read music, but I like drawing it- angular, swirly,
 throbbing, shivering, dancing-- rushing through your veins .

12:58 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

if you give birth to a shoehorn

(don't give it your house key)
-
an electrical fire burst
seams in the sky 
smothering eye-sores




the farmer grows
a crop of baby
 teeth in perfect rows




two crickets 
a makeshift music
box




tomorrow we forage
for brain
food in wild confetti




harvest the doll
hair  growing down
stream




close your eyes
after you
jump





even words
ricochet
odd words
beat



 

6:15 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

every bone is a wishbone

When I first started college a million years ago, I thought I'd like to be a
 journalist, since I'm such a curious little fucker. But I now realize that
 being a non-reporter would be the perfect job for me. I would bum a
 ride from reporters/journalists going places, and then just take
 photographs of weird little things that catch my eye and write a few
 words to bring the viewer into my world.

The best part is that I could do it anywhere -- from crime scenes to
 Olympic games to garage sales -- and do way more than I do now,
 since I don't have that much time and I basically am confined to places
 I can walk to.

The worst part is that I don't think I could convice them to pay me.

But wouldn't it be cool to have real news accompanied by a slide show /
 photo spread of what the news would look like if it was reported by a
 an anonymous screwy eyeball?

well, whatever.  Enjoy this steaming slice of August pie.
 

~

wombats  sulk
in a pool of cult
kool-aid




day camp  for
  living dead
heads




wagon train remains




dressing
wire wounds




filters, grids and
cages  make
the world less round




mud is the
fulfillment of your
horoscope today

10:49 PM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

give me a wagon to fall off

lord of the flies




row row the
viking ship




the boy with
the purple marker




electric chair
leg

4:08 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

my other toe is a bobsled

my lovelies! I smell a trace of autumn in the air, and my head wants to
 explode. If I put on some reasonable shoes I could keep going and
 never stop... but if I curl up under the window and let the breeze tickle
 my forehead with those little baby hairs then I could drown in bliss and
 never have to speak again.

I like my avalanches below sea level
and frozen




marble cavity crime
scene




a family portrait,  from happier times
and snappier crimes




the Emperor --
a satin-trimmed
siren --  gambled away
her gargoyles




 but 
my ghost will dance
like empty clockwork
under the cellar




your stained hands are
spilled
milk worth crying
over




hard hats  weave
bohemian belts 
around the underground




elegance comes
structured with commas
and myths




a compost
of scandalous maybes
to recycle pocketbooks
 



rainbow seals  
soon to be spray painted 
and smuggled over the border

10:18 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

a fortnight of parrots

tomorrow I turn in
to Frosting Electric
smacking my lips 
of bricks
together




the serpent flood  swallowed
our souls 
by the dealership




tarantulas  gorged
on  leggy  highway stretches



your fractured
 home stands
in a plaster cast , but I drew
 shutters  and shadows  in permanent.




exxon's acid  spill
 curdles the shore  of
cupcake island




an islander seeks
shelter  in  the
plywood scab horizon




meanwhile the acid taps for syrup
in woodsy burrows of her brain








  thrills 
are falling  from
your side

6:15 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

where were you (he asked)

I was hiding in the wind

while you stood    on a bridge

calling God

a colleague of  common 

denominators

the sun was fidgeting

with your eyelids,  and  every cross-hair

stood  on end,  Waiting

for  your bones  to  set

9:10 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

sandwich crust thoughts & death by greyhound

I can't believe someone on a Greyhound bus stabbed, decapitated, and partially devoured the stranger sitting next to him.  So fucked up. 
I wonder what it feels like to be homicidal, and how long a person can feel that way before they actually kill someone. There should be an anonymous hotline for those folks, so I could ask them.
If I got randomly beheaded on a bus I'd want my friends to tell the press  shit like, "it's how she would've wanted it ... at least she died doing what she loved," or "she knew the risks but was hooked on the rush of adrenaline you get from sitting on a bus."  just cuz it would fuck with their story.

anyway. in other news, the jolie-pitt twin messiahs were shown to the world today.  the whole brangelina saga is starting to taste like a rude cancer inching its way down the back of my throat.  I guess a simple life of extraordinary luxury doesn't cut it these days. how innovative-- be a peace-corp poser and use your hollywood paychecks to buy a halo.   I just don't enjoy the taste of ice-glazed quasi-goodness. keep it to yourself.

maybe the tabloids will start sending interns to follow celebrities around like private investigators, 'bagging the evidence' like cigarette butts, so they can create DNA profiles and print headlines like "Travolta positive for male pattern baldness!" or "Christina Aguilera-- brown eyed girl!"  "Tom Cruise -- missing chromosome meyhem!"

8:11 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

be your own tropical depression

I like to spy   through a snagged zipper  in  time . .




  your world  has sun
shine  so sweet  it'll  melt
   your teeth




then we built  robots
to  play  our piano
shaped flutes




the public pool   is
 overgrown,  and  gets divided  into
 lap  lanes




 some time  under the
cover of night
   we all come out to nurse




the  sun  brings
a parade   of
sticks and ladders




soon  you start to  sink . .   melt,     like
 butter  on a  frying pan.





the  Pope says  hello .




 every other
monday  is night
 of the  living
dead toys




 it's not natural
  to fall  down wells      they hushed
their collars and   peered
in
 

8:37 PM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Anonymous is our favorite holiday

this is   lust
                    bubbling up  through all your organs
until it's  a  fancy  little frenzy 
     ready to be  embroidered    by
         nimble  fingers,  lips,     etc.

3:34 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

the unicyle hung itself

 tree branches  are
stiff  shoulder blades, and
we dangle off the edge of  the roof    making promises




  house next door  likes to go
waterskiing      when the clouds are just right




the spare closet is still  parked out back
  full of good karma , we think




our
sailboat  still floats,
 though  we died with the wind




  built a brick pinata
    to serve as her womb




and everyone was dancin
 cuz the devil rarely rakes our leaves




 or plays ring around  the
rosy  speckled  shadows




I've taken a sharpie to the sky,    and
the sky has taken a long bubble bath




 let  the music
 light a  fire     in my dead
mind's eye

2:03 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

donate a puddle of your lover

but first ...

silk worms peel from the sidewalk

 
"storm" from the Cloud Zoo

mother and child

shacked up pretty

 
medicine sloshes from the music house

hamster cage, aerial view

the stationary train . . .   boy can you whistle?




water grows sideways

rubble the cat

atmospheres

Barbie Dreamhouse

runner up in pissing contest




an underworld of faces live between panes ... most of them half chewed up.

mmm puddles.  

lava lamp sun.

 life is a beach, and the beach is a retro sex den. don't forget.

1:16 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

a popular hangout for sexual paperclips

This is what it looks like to feel a beating heart -   after months of hibernation  - -sounds like

a rusty guitar string,  badly skinned knee, and  reclusive wine-maker's whistling tooth.

a popular hangout for paperclips and other misfit shapes.

  also  sometimes drowns out   the chattering war craft  carriers

coursing  through one's arteries.

in other news

shiny bumpers  gawk or steeple

how many numbers do you keep under the sink?

where the sun   wear the sun   well,  like a crown.

9:38 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

some teachers sniffed beautiful glue

  filthy neon brain wave junction

 stalking an elusive window frame

land of the leftover chalk dust

steel veins never give in, only up

leaves rattle like bones in a coffin 

 grazing the surface of bleeding gums

 a genie escapes                    from the abandoned refrigerator

nobody sees it coming

5:47 AM - 4 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment