into the depths of the unknown to discover the new

-Baudelaire

2. Listnin to "if you fear dying" by One Day as a Lion

3. funniness:
Deadlines or, a quote from the 'qualified' Judah Friedlander in Mean magazine volume two, issue twelve, (june-july) 2006(?) Interview by Paul Barman.
"-What do you like better: straight lines, or pickup lines?
--Not sure I understand the question. Reading and math are probably my only two weaknesses."

4. ftw means for the win, but I can't help thinking "fuck the world."

I had therapy today. I'm calling myself Peppermint, not only but also because nikorette is minty fresh. I mean, as my email alias. I'm still a prissy fdw. Oh!

welcome to my office/ starbucks

“But instead I got the phone call/ Just thought I’d call to let you know I want to be alone all night again.”

Broken hearted. Disconnection notice. The phone call that the company could not complete, “we are sorry, but the number you have dialed has been disconnected.”
Sorry, sure. Sat nam, I am truth.
KPower
Okay, mom, Charlotte, the cat pee in the front hallway smells bad.
Carley coma
Children of Mental Awareness, the smell of cocaine
“By your leave, sugar.” Sica out.
(rye your leave, sugar)
Maybe tomorrow? There is no "by your leave" to carry a trigonometry book into a maze populated by an "illiterate," ridiculous, untrustable minotaur. Are we talking about a text here?

I love you guys.

good is the opposite of done

Prologue, at another moment when life tricks us into believing there is one straight path.

Murry grew up in California, where his mother raised hibiscus flowers in the back yard and cacti in the front. Murry always suffered from an elevated standard of culture. He suffered when his pants were not Versace. He cried when his mom purchased a striped male marmalade cat from the shelter instead of a pet tiger. Some Danger! Murry planted apple seeds under evergreen snow at his uncle’s house.
Mere instructions, folded: first aid kit necessary. Other times, toe jambs ached more the second day. Figures and figments of the imaginations swooped from the uncovered oak ceiling rails. Dear shiny guy gently tried to will Tricia into wedding sheets; ate smoke bombs because diversion and unknown roses romped, softening the scent of petals. There was a boat, a hull, a land bridge, many days, icicles, caribou, and sinews. Makeshift gas masks lined the boats. Pressing a hand against the prow, Cleve rustled a nose press about how summertime ached more after dinner than after dark.
She’s not afraid, no matter how much you’d deny her denials. She’s not lost, as long as someone’d hold her hand. She was collapsing from lack of sleep, and they had a mission, from opening the store to the closing of the store at night.
You feel that? You felt it. She heard it: Catalogues of music, shouting to the birds above your house. Typing survival notes. That much computer time, living for glass blisters. Sleep came and lyrical memorizations unswam mind water. Elbows to teak are hunching light panic because the screeching unvested. Heart in throat, vomiting micey entrails, one wrapped wrist cuts in gingham because the actor worked in a bracelet of self hate. Don’t fall into the trap like the last specialist.

Complete the sentence:
“If something’s wrong with my brain…”

Trinket Girl, an Adaptation of Tombstone as a Lonely Charm by d.a. levy
(Please read the original.)

=

Part 1

Saying maybe, if you
Paid attention to
Their historical explanation
For/ yr mind—directional
Ever faceted sparkles

Unprefixed
Individual
Like- maybe
Pay attention
Take direction
Negation
It owns
Even your slapstick
& you renew
I am
Power
Rainbows
Off
Squeeze
Fragments you hold

Brilliant! Or Excellent!
Your possessed confidence
Love—make art?
=
Ice cold legs wearing fishnets
The red blood
Surfacing damp touch
Presently returned from
Outside the gates

Levy, I will write this, too.
Palm the trinket and press
Inattentive
It’s in the book
So maybe
Leaving beached driftwood
Imaginary hair waves
More rainbows
Drug state as a class for credit
Or that’s stupid
(the traveler bandanaed
dropped out and reappeared on
the sidewalk from gender roles
to be a man)

And also, too
-of diving through translated
nothing much
you denied
“I could a-bide”

Disaster fractal
It’s a metaphor
Through midnight yelps
The dis-pleasure of depth

Go home

Saying maybe, stupid
Sand on the beach
Hurtle it far
Star distance
Away secrets
Past historic

I just say maybe
Stay still, please
Kill
The
Messenger
Terrific monotheistic
Young person bearing
The brunt force
Repeat what is left
Why do I do this to
be honest I like
trying
I know how this ends
Just a part
Boundary vacations
You dryly explain
From the floor

Part Two

You role played in velvet
In the past
Sucking careful cigarettes
Lit by your eyes
Took a pen and journal
To own perfect ink
And your friends
Lifting the new control
Of the funnest place
Taught you their songs
Off of calendars
Gloating in the chair
Journey prized laudanum
Overwhelming
& fed you uptight consciousness
referring to mystics

After your mind-at-hand destructed
Guilt caused a stirring
You knew not whom to seek

A figment meets you here it’s
In the far location
You’d tear down walls
To belong
Among guys

You tore and swore
The metal types
Followers lighting spaceships
Rightfully
Confused the CAUSE

You tore and jumped
& ate and boring details
while misaligned
got off and left out
& came back with stories
at midnight

you hid it so well
genius who helped rugburn
and sexiness begetting some
& wished for
knowledge branches
and some wisdom

You busked prostitution
Eyeliner dreaming

Also!

You changed your name once
To something danger in the high-
Way reading

Static infirmary

Regale a novelette
A sofa in a room
& over & over
this same this some-
one sound
you tried other things too
potential doorways
to be ignored, sir

you touched her hair the softness
just acting
the last time!
This something sacred
Pet her with nectar of
Amber and yes no
Possession will get so
Tiring kind of
You sailed for seeming
Worried that often
This career was “facing
three guitars and a drum
bot”

You zoned far far &
Lover sales pretending
Transparency shards crash
Singing low in the pathways
Fractal buzz

You failed to see
The opening of your mind bib
Came catching bed bugs
Motion & unmotion
-models-

There was last
At least when my friend threw petals down
And questioned
“-pens on the stairs”?

& your thinking if WENT
was over or not, son

You stilled self
With your shallow teeth
Spinners to look at the shade
You self observed
Ending—little

But the ultimate penalty
To ghost you past the end
Was the thoughts
That all revolved
You had begun
Only this

A dance it was
While dreaming him, he had
Waited for you
S/o listened
To translation

And then the doctor
Dreamed a card to tell
You to go out

And you grew up
(Re) thinking it again

Part Three

Revolutionaries desire
Back to the future style
& buckets of paintings

Don’t misinterpret
Brand names for money

Revolutionaries want
Quality drug stores
And parking access

Keep doing the thinking
Just keep
Underhand
Overhead

Revolutionaries desire
Elegant solutions
Coffee permission to wonderment
Close-up release
& buckets of paintings

green party stickers
on the shelf—if the
shelf is wanting
the style sport—the man you know him
it’s gone now, son
LISTEN!
& do what makes you sing
don’t fall down you have to eat something

but revolutionaries desire
back to the future style
& buckets of paintings

be ready to sever
your mind from your body

go for a walk
& signal to the kids
at night time

I am so joking
Your babies
Based on abortion
Legality

Go for a walk
Signal to the kids
The population sick
Except for the young movie stars
Just go with anyone

Antebellum, mind you

(hence, is possibility
for naught)

revolutionaries desire
“symbols” “but” “power”
like not that deep, see
fake or hostile

lovers are lovers
depending on amusements
K means black to them
& it’s a code, babies
meaning your mommies

Revolutionaries desire
Style from your mind
& STHU, kid
if you, yeah

back to the future style
and buckets of paintings
that exist in you
now the language of books
not reading

if ever you get sad
leave city
bottles evergreens books
leave lovers

but revolutionary style
a desire
solutions fix
several novel disciplines
and past “beyond” them

go for a walk
and signal you
yourself

why:

"You know what it means; it means nothing."
That might be it.
I keep looking for signs.
We lived by the lake, and the mice came in, even to the iguana cage. I spent 9/11 on the couch with the horizon strip mall who threw me when I was bad.

Hi

Villanelle One, Revised

Smackie, three day habit, until Tuesday
Kicking, watching staring (movie) fuck me
For me it's a new day, for you, doomsday.

Jumping out of cakes like Lay Lady Lay
Sun shining on green sheets that you let me
Testing, three day equals habit Tuesday

Woke up on her friend's bed face down new day
I'm kind of sick of all your fun, Junkie.
For me it's a game, for you it's doomsday

Hollow head forgets its point, truth (decay)
Pushups veins out jacked up fists hit, bloody
Tell me, three day (habit) until Tuesday

She encourages me. That was Monday.
Religiosity or else find me
In the dream you knew me rhyming Doomsday

Your brother cannot help you do right today
This is about him but You, you and me
I will call him Smackie Blue Habit Day
Excuse me fall down hard night time doomsday

wild about you

cantabridgian strut, second iteration:

Bubbling every time herons begin to fight organic frozen spinach and gophers baguette girls want to be this entered contest fashionably peach lime purple cold cut kennedy the vj overtime with kurt loder and mushroomhead don’t get caught with declarations of love in a barrel basket case stabbed in the left appendix gray sky corn hay pelting car dents now that’s a sexy broken lip, baby bound egrets drowned no egrets nor egrets no regrets nor egrets

Here goes something

Typing with a cat on my lap, and a laptop, makes me think the computer is about to go flying, then crashing, to the floor. That's probably more commas than I have used in a week!!!! I'm wondering about public vs private persona(s). If conor oberst isn't singing for me, then who is he singing for, obviously himself or someone else, the OTHER, better ME. Pencil lead, tennis courts, psychedelic colors of my outfit today. It's Physics Day. I read a chapter. Better late than never. I wore some crazy bright blueandwhite and Orange striped shirt with pink shorts to play tennis. The brand of the shirt is The Red Eye. I got it at a thrift store in cleveland with a girl named Kristen from my creative writing class, along with cowboy boots. The only reason I like cowboy boots is because Sam Michel and Noy Holland wore them when they visited my school when I was still a kid. Not a kid anymore, just a hyper thirty year old with punk rock tendencies. Oh, the cat's not on my lap any more.

So, guy troubles in paradise. Much advice, little concrete. I should write some concrete poetry. I also have to destroy my diploma if I want a grant for school, but I cannot do it. Too much blood and tears for something so small and lucky. I have to send an alacritic letter to my friend who isn't my friend yet. I have to tell someone how strange love can be that it flows so carefully. I'm pretty sure my coworker calls people dog, as in "relax, dog." Why do I have images of a hanging in my head? Strange fruit, the worst is yet to come, the best is all muddled, and the past harm will be over. I looked for Levy all over cleveland. I found "lover i don't have to love" at a candiria show across from the food coop. I might have to move again. My first love was for a girl when I was fifteen. Don't tell me I have it easy. Executive functions explain some of the trouble I have had, but not why my psychologist didn't like my lifecoach. At least I ran away to Spain, so I could learn something. To Swim. Hi Vinnie!!