Ope.

this is something i did for class. it is about worldwidedirt.com's real cool new book.

Ope. Won't upload. Damn. Well, made a slideshow of the book launch for SeanWilliamson's "A Wild Introduction."

IT WAS SO COOL AND I ACTUALLY READ MORE THAN A PAGE OF IT.

Will read the rest and get back to you.

"Laying like sardines after writing, editing, and lulling Mario to sleep by reading A Wild Introduction."

I was writing about thabout thoughts. and i thought then of you, cold wash cycle. maybe it is bygone and that's okay too. disregard this in such a cas

I had a dream I had a dream

And you were just like you

And he was wearing a tie and a skinny shirt and he was terrible as he is

And she was half-heartedly exuberant

as she is

and I ran back to the van thinking my blue volleyball sweatshirt to be ridiculable

as i do

you were wearing a white dress and standing in the yard of a corner house

holding a brown briefcase

I do not know if flowers surrounded you or if it is an illusion that follows you

I passed you and said something slight,

Unfitting for the sight of you is heroin every time

You said then,

You’re mean,

the way you would

I love the thought of you regardless what from or for

I had a dream my brother had died

and I was recalling the phone call from my mother

I asked Chelsea in the morning if she’d heard me crying in my sleep

I was wearing the shoes I’d bought the night before.

the name of the tarnished gangster on the arches underneath was covered by tape.

Entirely aware that if caught I would by law belong to fates unfathomable,

I peeled away the tape and let my hair down

One candle burning upon the television table

No television

A television

watching the news watching the news my brother is dead? watching the news

And the muddy sky creeping around the drapes.

This is the romance of cigars

The intercourse of smoke and air

The immensity of silence

The passing of time

The bastard cigarette

A vein of running water

a slab of cement, any slab

A girl

greasy glowing hair sliding over her shoulder

Small soft breasts bright and bare

Most men dead and far away

wet dirt packed between the pearls around her neck

And the moon

Almost completely undisturbed

blue light blue grass

blue water blue

eyes

And all of these things unspoken

now nothing left pure or unbroken an obsession with things unreal.

and a blue volleyball sweatshirt

dropped by a kid

A Dope

A Grand Canyon!

ANY CANYON!

ANGRY!! SCRI!!!BBLING!!!!!

FEROCI!!!OUS PENC!!!IL BRAKING!!!!!!!!!!!

-used lamb's ear

-Billy Yakner

consonants

my hand's writing is sandy with
residual doubt
and the mornings are fine, resembling
times i had with others
i try to imitate
and the spotlight never seems to stay still enough--
never rests at the right spot--
and my judgment is blurred

when it's time to decide
if we are pot bound
or about to experience
root rot

you will see me soon
and if not soon, sooner
so that
i can let you know
there will be no later.
your precious,
precious soul
just could not fill
in the empties
with the correct vowels
despite

all of your consonants.

Tel Aviv

i have had diarrhea lately

a lot, man,

and maybe it feels best because i got a lot to get out

and quick

holding in too many maybes

i really don't know how to lay down

and say:

girl, make it

write it down

be true

do what you must do

and do,

it is up to you.

and me

to just HEY!!!!!!!

sit down

stop waiting

and weighing really

because

these people take you to scenes

that may look better in day

but are just as mirthful at midnight

after catching up and then taking

and telling jokes

jokes told retold refurbished for

someone whose heard it twice, thrice before

in a radio flyer

with two pugs, one without an eye

the other barking untold

never told.

miscrote.

miscrote.

I love you like Tel Aviv's memory

before Tel Aviv was ever a city.

Just a dream.

things to write down

I've got a list going of memories that I want to put down. Fleshed out and maybe relevant to people other than me.

I don't actually have the list going until now:

there was this time my sister wrestled with a ladder and fell into the corner because she wanted to hurt me. Sometimes she would punch my from the bottom bunk--her only defense. And I'd always make her turn off the light because I am a lazy fuck. She would always, like the ending credits of CSI, say something stirring or (silly) hurtful right before she did it, though.

Benjamin Ryan Kane and I found a couch in an alley after fleeing Weirdo's and we sat. It may have been soggy and we heard a harpie from up above. I would later ask my brother what he thought it was by doing my best to imitate it and he said, "ah, man, it's a raccoon, dude." And I believed him. Benny asked me something like "do you always want to live in the city?" but he said it in the most profound way. I am sure I wrote it down in my notebook. Or maybe I can ask him? Something about "living without wood"? He said, it would have been nice to live with you.

My mother and I spent one Christmas break watching the entirety (leave Sookie's wedding) of Gilmore Girls. My mom reads my blog so I shouldn't say stuff like: it made me realize that you can have any type of relationship you want if you try for it. And before that I really did not try to have one with my own mom.

Professor talking now...get back to listening.

9-15-11.

singing moon, sometimes the hunter's moon

mine is seconds away he texted me i will be there soon

knowledge is power in the hastened gift homestead of truth

but jostling loudly in the back seat is a radio that caught

only a station or two and they only spoke in roman anyway

so sometimes we seat ourselves-

and sometimes we show someone else

a new park or place where willows frame a harvest moon reflecting

off a lake and know that if it weren't for them

or a reason to go back we would not have seen half

(even a fourth!) of what we have (and in just two weeks)

lemon law

i have dreams of limbless best friends

of lucky men who taste like lemons but not lemons

well, maybe lemons. but only the ones on Coronas

if lemons are all the Lima people have left

and only lemons if I haven't tasted them yet.

!!!

The WEEK before I have my first LEMON!

L-E-M-O-N! a citron. A fantasy of citrus, I could only

hope it is as good as the sticky pop the bank teller

handed out. I can only HOPE this lemon, this lemon

this lemon is the favorite. Strawberries, buh bye. Fuck

them. I am about to have a lemon. MY lemon.

I have never had one. I assume they must taste free.

Not acidic. I am not saying this lucky man is acidic.

What I am saying, I think, is I keep having dreams of things

that speak loudly--louder than I have ever spoken,

even over the chickadees and screamcore ten years ago--

about the people in my life and how when I am awake

all I seem to do is bounce from toothache to

licking tomato paste from the can, hoping & counting the

odd of cutting my tongue

but, really, what is all this about palominos, backless chef outfits,

and hands scaling up my spine? And the L-E-
M-O-N-S?! These goddam lemons I have never once tasted.

Lemon, lemon. Something about 60 minutes and the 1970's Pinto

and lemons and maybe my Parents shoulda traded theirs in. And spritz it

on apples in a school room corner aquarium full of dixie-cupped tomato plants.

He probably doesn't taste anything close to a lemon.

-Suzanne Jones, Ides of September Challenge

Tune & Gin

Wait! I have got my own Fibonacci sequence--I don't answer to Pascal's anything

and I sure as hell do not have the time to quantify using this scientific notation!

Inside of me, laying on rugs that please, please me from somewhere much cooler than

Serbia and more skilled than Kashmir. Man, this feels amazing. I tend a fire in the middle

of the room and I did not have to walk more than a stride for tinder. Or a lighter. And!

It is one of those long BIC ones that my mom gets to lights candles during the winter &

I am too cheap to buy myself. Those lighters. I have these guilded lists, juniper wreaths,

royalty rhyming deep inside me but

you've got to shake me with your tundra grasp, crass; gossip over my seething recklessness

whispers about my percentage of adherence: peeling at the dry corners of my eyes

and skin and on the outsides of my craddling arms that can never quite sustain my sore

sapplings enough.

experimenter effects: breakfast in bed

there are some up so high-hello then after a moment

of sobriety, cancelled TV show, accidentally burned a

hole in your passenger seat then goodbye- then those

few that hold you even higher. You must pretend to cry

when they move to Idahiowa for Jesus and you say: baby,

you are my greatest night. But we all know that he was

just to crunch summertime leaves with and peel pajamas

off of your bum, swelter in a comforted twin sized bed.

Hope your giggling at 4AM hain't waking little sister just

a wall away. Maybe you'll prove it soon, girl. Maybe you'll

be okay: guiltless: free: kissing all day & spending the early

evenings cooking for you--then two--and then you'll feel like

three.