July 24, 2014

if we find our queerness on census forms
I found mine in a box of sun twirls.
For me, there was no thanksgiving matriculation,
I’m seated at the third table (from the right,
and straight until morning),
set with insect jars comix and plastic dinos
and lube and lube and lube,
fuckin REM tapes and Kubler-Ross,
old fogie swill in the nursery.
I’m sharing stuffing with Barrie and Proust,
we’re all sun-dried and womb-warm,
Huck-eyed but housebroken.
because  boymen are more Beckys than Toms
Wendys chewing Peters.
who cares if more adventurous,
Xanadu’s a fenced backyard,
and mom’s been watching through the window
this whole time.

July 23, 2014

 
why would chickenscratch
maudlin in casado rico
while gallo pinto warm next door?
 
I write and speak with both
hands open, typesetting
Unicode with chewed fingers,
and I got by.
But when my bony flatworms
bestumble plastic and pulp
we’re on a new timeline
and in-betweens my
break-bread, my lie-beside,
I want. fiber optic, I
want to 150 wpm home so
you can’t keep up.

July 22, 2014

I love you like an epiphyte
like aquaman, a pill,
serpentine, a Canaanite,
a rotten rodent quill.
 
I loved you like a symbiont,
like fireflies, like Pele,
Celine Dion, iguonodont,
like chocolate champion melee.
 
I love you like kudzu vine,
I loved you tall Croatian beers,
I loved you without paradigm,
I love you without telomeres.

July 21, 2014

I’m back in the bay, so Poem-A-Day Summer 2014 continues!

You can drink lagoon to tides’ return
to the marsh-mucking dinos of the neocretaceous.
I craved the reunions of those estuaries,
not a home, but a saline family waypoint.
All flesh is grass, and to each their greens!,
blue flesh of the bay and North County Yellow,
dame batiquitos, mundo de la sal
dame el cuerpo & gimme a dacha.
But egrets are hardly colonial nomads,
and though vicious, Portola was no theropod, so
if I’m to be a parasite, a guest
who lives beside my food,
I’d be an ichneumonid pest,
embryonic twixt the feud.

June 16, 2014
Poem Four

I would have packed a plastic tarp
rice pasta white pepper matches,
rope sunscreen cheese salt blues harp
sleeping pad sealant patches

curry compass card deck headlamp
camera lip balm bug juice yeast
first aid asprin jerky map camp
stove hat whistle mountain fleece

no wheat gluten on our safari
no condoms no phones no tents
no psilocybin shrooms (I’m sorry!)
no bell peppers no arguments
# # #
Starting today I’ll be out of the country with little to no internet until early July, I’ll post the backlog when I return.

June 15, 2014
Third Poem

shiva


you can’t call it a gospel if it’s all bad news,
can’t whiten a smile with curled lips!
you know if I had an actual backbone I’d fire
my bullshit dental hygienist and call up
the ravager of the cosmos, the benign destroyer,
and warm up the compost.
it’s called the nailbiter with sugarcubes in the horsetail tea
it’s called the sleeptalker with flouride in the cola
antinomian tooth mountain, like, here’s a joke
why was the preservationist angry at the dentist,
because she got rid of the historical plaque!
I’m that orobouros lickin the floss when I’m done

June 14, 2014
Second Poem

living will

watch me dusting for jungle rags in the retail,
watch me powder blue mixed fibers chest patch,
watch me big gulp neckline cuz
I swear I am the only fag in this entire fucking TJ Max
for the mom, a wallet is a dressing room visa,
the chalice sundered from the blade.
but like, who even complains about florescent lights anymore
who even digs on Taylor Swift these days what are you like seventeen

when I corpse, corpse me in toy clearance
with the powder blue flaunting the sternum.
I want the dinos at my interment please
I want plastic planets I want glowinthedark stars

June 13, 2014
First Poem

you can go home again but
you can’t leave the house,
come tumble trial tremble tomb
a pattern, carl friedrich gauss.

get your kingdom come,
get your canines did.

get cabela’s mesh,
get cartesian grid,.
get your tooth dug deep,
get your mem’ries lost.
get the twice-dipped cone,
get your veins embossed.
get your walmart preen,
get your foot creme douse.
get your engine on,
get out of the house.
you can go home again but
kid you know there’ll be bugs,
she’ll throw out that rice, kid,

and she’ll compost those grubs.

June 13, 2014
"Gosh Xander what have you been up to during the past two months."

"Gosh Xander what have you been up to during the past two months."

12:18am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z9vYXy1IZxnhm
  
Filed under: comics breakup 
April 21, 2014
A gorgeous graphic of Sacco and Vanzetti accompanying the March 9, 1921 New York Times article, “Are Sacco and Vanzetti Guilty?.” In case you were wondering, the New York Times was as guilty of blatant character assassination as any other capitalist press during the red scare, and flatly denied what was obvious to everyone: that the duo was being sentenced to death as punishment for being immigrants, anarchists, and Italians, and not for murder.

[via]

A gorgeous graphic of Sacco and Vanzetti accompanying the March 9, 1921 New York Times article, “Are Sacco and Vanzetti Guilty?.” In case you were wondering, the New York Times was as guilty of blatant character assassination as any other capitalist press during the red scare, and flatly denied what was obvious to everyone: that the duo was being sentenced to death as punishment for being immigrants, anarchists, and Italians, and not for murder.

[via]