When asked, Mr. Oddball admitted what he thought of a Rolls Royce:
"sexy cell.”

When asked how he would make a living, he ginger snapped,
“I am a living.”
“My body is the co-operative organization; its health, my wealth.”

BIKINI SHRIMP SALAD: A delicious way to get beach-ready!

BLACKGirl
purpledress
redflowers
greenleaves
VenusFlyTrap
bloodorangebutterfly

Sold my soul for you, Clancy

Disclaimer:  I've never published my writing on the internet.  Blogs give me the heeby-jeebies.  I can, however, jive with your style and let you know what I've been working on recently.  Here is a recent piece:

Because We Said So

So it would be 

that we might become decidedly firm 

in our resolution to,

in response to our wide-headed babies

(Frere Jacques falling from their lips)

bring both hands together with an 

unrivaled force.

Or that we may find ourselves

stroking the sun-bleached manes 

of our identical Einsteins

who had, two days before

silently tip-toed across

their own egg shells,

strewn about the linoleum floor.

Or perhaps,

in an act reminiscent of one hand clapping,

we might shake our legs wildly in the air

as grandfather chops off the limbs

of a mighty, hapless oak

with the sincerity of a chain saw.

Because we said so

we may be inclined

to shove acorns beneath our eyelids

and saplings into our bellies 

so that when our fingernails stop growing,

our bones brittle and cracked,

we might reach the upper limits 

of the atmosphere

upon our return to the earth.

HoldMeHorizonArms

Starting to forget what daylight looks like. Chest and back CompressCompact.makeshift singularity.
Ghosts of ideas are spewing through the c/r/a/c/k/s.
All this time I've been taking [windows] for granted.
Bending at the spine. crawling in the skin. can't feel the face.
Stretched like infinity-if you can here me why are you leaving?
I swear these sheets will swallow you entirely

RE TI MOGLIB
SHAMASHI PU GOLA
UMJAB HETRE MU SHI
GO BI SA
LE AEI __LO LII
MISA COM PIEWS
_EI _ON CRO
BI XYTLL
MON_TAG
ROUT
FHIE AUSSI GOLN PII_
AUGHE_MA LIM PADYE
__
___A

EH A HALA BWRAEI
I DHALA DBRAE

'I' stands alone and 'we' is just 'me' halfway uspide down

Lamp needs a new light bulb
Flower could use a couple more petals
Couch is missing some cushions
Sock is one short of a pair
Pen needs ink
Chair would benefit from a few legs

Left out of looking for something...
What is it that we need?
Try someone else on and feel twice as incomplete.
Attempting to be yourself + all the things that they desire you to be.
It is only in our own company that we find true reality
Devout of another's insatiable expectations.
Though, with nothing but the individual pulse of every subatomic particle in our own bodies,
we are

Completely
Free

Feed(time for content talk)back

Gigantopithecus

Where I was, there was
A lawn, a hill of waist-high grass,
An estuary, a system of stonewalls and jetties.

There was a lot to be done
With any number of makeshift reliquaries
cluttering the back porch and the sill below the open window
however arbitrary the things
found at the edge of the path:
Turtle eggs, downed feathers,
A mouse collapsed and bruised by pebbles.
Occasionally, an unexplained glint.
Something gleaming, playing in the dirt.

I imagine we’re both desperate for a full-lit bird crossing the path of the moon
A dozen or more bats dive-bombing the pecked surface of the pond.
Things here are different, and a quiet search is a lesson in static.
There is work to be done in those spaces
Gaps we are missing the reasons for.
We’ re not so good out here but we’re trying.
Rest your head,
We are weary little rabbits.

I know you’ve got the fur thing covered, but
I need a coat, and I’d like to show you
My machine, my stacks of fabric, and my hundred-two count
Carrying case of thread.
I’m not always sure what I’m doing but I remember where I came from.
Reaching with one hand, I lean enough to feel the ropes joining arm, shoulder, rib, and hip, to finite digits.

Your hands are twice the surface area of my face
And your heart, a pulse equal to the size of your fist.
Could you hold me by the ears?
Not boxed, but the curled rim rubbed,
tugged gently by large fingers.

I feel
maybe less certain than ever,
But ready anyway.
Small enough to hold your fingers.
Big enough to hold your sides.
Knuckles and ventricles
on either side of a brackish country.

VESTIGIAL
VESTIBULE
VACANT!
VACANT!

When we vacated the Vatican,
various small fires mumbled

"The vista was vibrant,
the voyeur was void,
the sister was modest,
her feline was coy."

Glitter Haiku

By Jack Kerouac

dead
??as
??a
???door

??tired
?pit
???and

skin.

re_fine_ment

emissions
throat
fused
points
Transdimensional
chalk
Spare
BLANK
SPACE
armature
steamed
fortification
by
6'8"
box
shield
fixed
Shift
Spread
spokes
Open
stretch
Effortless!
gentle
Newtonian
gets
headlice
chickenpox
heartsore
concrete
disperse
dirt
erode
raw
unbecome
splendid
flesh
immovable
particulate
mere
human
filter
circling
realign
sequence
constant
composition
internal
veiled
impartial
Leave
body
silent
discourse
sum


from
the
and
and
this
to
I
is
is
if
the
of
were
by
with
the
would
be
an
and
my
to
her
to
her
the
with
of
It
is
to
be
the
are
an
their
is
an
without
that
which
from
and
to
over
of
the
of
by
the
upon
until
the
was
no
is
in
then
back
into
to
in
we
to
five
and
fifteen
you
their
your
to
a
a
gets
and
for
will
for
and
your
will
become
the
of
your
will
for
you
will
but
in
this
are
things
one
thing
is
the
by
one
many
a
the
to
in
a
from
from
we
in
the
the
is
only
by
its
the
is
the
your
to
your
with
each
we
the
all
in
and
this
the
a
much
than
this

he may not be pretty, but he is my child

emissions from the communal throat
swell
and spill over
in fused bliss
this way to euphoria
"I" fades
we is ALL
All is all
I know

If the points of connection were marked with solid black lines,
The world would be one
dark mass

an unbroken line through space and time
Transdimensional chalk lines bind
my mother
to her mother
to her mother
the edges soft with
years of rubbing

Pack,
It is time
to be

Spare the longing,
we are alone together

BLANK
SPACE

without border, there is spillage

I am not built upon this armature
I seep from these pores
I spill from my skin

The fortification of solitude
Brick by brick,
she erected the 6'8" box
Layer upon layer until the sun was no
more
her shield is my coffin

We exist in fixed fluidity

as a block

MASS ANATOMICAL DIVISIONS REVISIONS SEGMENTED PHONEMES SPUN SATTELITE VANTAGE VIEW OUTSIDE MEASUREMENT CONVERSION THERE IS TRANSLATED LOSS BLANK SPACE FILLED THE BORDERLESS EDGE WITHOUT BORDER THERE IS SPILLAGE SPLATTERED A SMATTERING OF ALL MYOPIC PERSPECTIVE MILKY-EYED CATARACT VICTIMS OF THEIR OWN LONGING BEING BELONGING FORESIGHT BE NEAR SIGHT FRESH THOUGH STATIC CLEAN SNOW WILL BE TAINTED OUTWARD IN ALL DIRECTIONS FELL PAPER FRAGMENTS FROM BENEATH SHOT THROUGH WITH SUNLIGHT BURNED FRUSTRATED IMPERMENANCE ELLIPSES NATURAL GEOMETRIES CONNECT THE CONTENT AND THE SEEKING

baby, step toward this tangible euphoria

This is a piece about people in space.

MASS
ANATOMICAL
DIVISIONS
REVISIONS
SEGMENTED
PHONEMES
SPUN
SATTELITE
VANTAGE
VIEW
OUTSIDE
MEASUREMENT
CONVERSION
THERE
IS
TRANSLATED
LOSS
BLANK
SPACE
FILLED
THE
BORDERLESS
EDGE
WITHOUT
BORDER
THERE
IS
SPILLAGE
SPLATTERED
A
SMATTERING
OF
ALL
MYOPIC
PERSPECTIVE
MILKY-EYED
CATARACT
VICTIMS
OF
THEIR
OWN
LONGING
BEING
BELONGING
FORESIGHT
BE
NEAR
SIGHT
FRESH
THOUGH
STATIC
CLEAN
SNOW
WILL
BE
TAINTED
OUTWARD
IN
ALL
DIRECTIONS
FELL
PAPER
FRAGMENTS
FROM
BENEATH
SHOT
THROUGH
WITH
SUNLIGHT
BURNED
FRUSTRATED
IMPERMENANCE
ELLIPSES
NATURAL
GEOMETRIES
CONNECT
THE
CONTENT
AND
THE
SEEKING

SOFT HYGIENIC

BIG BIRTH
ALL AMERICAN
ENCYCLOPEDIA EVIL
COCKFIGHT COMET
BORING BREATH
DOCTOR DON
LITTLE LONG
NOW OH
QUO RATE
RED RETURN
STYROFOAM STRANGE
SUNNY STYX
FROM GOT
GOTHIC HARVEST
BEAVER BLAST
BLIND CAMILO
SECRET SEVEN
SAPS WHITE
MY "N"
MUDDY MY
MIDNIGHT MISS
I IMMORTAL
HURRY I
HOOK HOUSE
GOOD GREAT
GREAT GREEN
FIREFLY FLAT
WAR WELL
WELL WHEN
TWELVE TWO
TO UNDERSEA
PAPERBACK PISSARO
TALL TELL
SWIMMY SWINDLE
STRANGE STICKS
SPECIAL STAGE
SHORT SIMPLE
SKIN SIN
PEACH PAJAMA
OUR OUIJA
NEVER NIGHT
MUDDY MY
GENETIC GOO

Like a Stone in Your Belly

When we feel sadness it is always in

The gut, the place where sorrow shares a room

With dinner, both of them falling apart

Into tiny bits. Sadness, like dinner,

Gets so small it seeps through the pores of your

Skin and drips all over your already 

Stained pillowcase. Rotten! Sick! and Sad! But

Mostly rotten. To eat sorrow up and

Seep it out later is just wasteful. Digest 

Your misery, then make sure to keep the 

Recipe. Or–better yet–go have your 

Mother write it on a small index card.

Chew your despair well or it will sit like

A stone at the bottom of your belly.

The Canopy! The Canopy!
So dense and persistent.
Dendritic prey,
why must they persecute?
To get to the other side?

cerebral dots

SPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACE
SPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACE•
SPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACE
• SPACESPACESPACE•counterSPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACE•
SPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACE •
SPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACE •fit
SPACESPACE • SPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACE•40 lbs.
SPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACE • •stamen
SPACE •1952CESPACESPACESPACE•mind
•

SPACESPACESPACE •red SPACESPACESPACE•SPACESPACESPACE•fever
•
SPACESPACE •red SPACESPACESPACE• HOLYHOLE•PACESPACESPACESPACESPACESPACE•fresh
SPA•swollenPACESPACE• RACERACERSPACE• ERASESPACESPACESPA•ear
SPACESPACESPACE•russian SPACE• SPA•trailRACE • SPACES
• FOR SALERACE• SPACERACE•
SPACE•SPACES • SPASPA• ACESOAOSP•allPA• ERASE• SPACESPACE•
SPACESPACES• SPACES• SOAPSPACE•PACEPACEPACEPACEPACES•SPACESPACESPACE
SPASPACE•70%SPACESPACEASPECT•pregnancyA•press
S• PA• fingerCECE• tipISISI•fervor SPACESPCASPACESPACE•SPACESPACESPACE•
SALESALESALE•cleaneverythingeverthang must go•SPACESPACESPA•
SSSSSSSSSSS•clear PPPPPPPP•AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA•underCCCCC•bodyEEEEEEE•
SPOT•STAINSANESTAINSANTSAINT•
PAPAPAPAPAPAPPPP•2weeksSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO•OOOOOOOOOOOO•

SPASPAPSP•burstssssssssssssssssss•
DEADDYINGDEADDEADDYINGONEDEADDEADDYING•¢56

NOT NOT•
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK•controlSPASPSAPSPSACESSSSSSSSSS•POLLINATE

SPP•PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACEEEEE•

gggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg•
•




•__add fresh new words to the chart
•__connect the dots to make the hidden image

everything is connected, except that which is severed

1 (0ne)
free!
B.A.S.E.

RIP
sir
ED

CONGLOMERATE
s q u i d
discharge

clattertype
woodland
workshirts.

transitions
t r a n s m i s s i o n s
failed.

neophyte.
CA†ECHUMEN.
bete noire.

SPACERACERIOT

{I am interested in collaboratively generating lists of words, as an exercise to connect the cerebral dots. Please add your cerebral dot•}

a ghost fire

I cant start this fire.. (finish NOW!) :D

Two coats
soft cream
satin latex.
Fresh skin adheres to old bones.

The Sunlight hitting my face is 8.3 minutes old;
An Echo.
The Smell you pressed into my pillow is 73 hours ago.
My Lips, still pink from kissing 48 minutes afterward.
Cold Air rushes to replace the Warm Place your hand left at the small of my back within seconds...



Occasionally I feel half the beauty of things
is their most prominent flaw;
the inaccessibility of diamonds,
the vulnerability of love,
the fragility of a cloud animal..

my newest obsession is taking pictures with that little camera that comes on the new imacs. it renders poor grainy images, but theres something about it that makes me think of how we remember things - not entirely clear or focused. lately ive been toying with the idea of getting some of these images printed very large, over 18" x 24". 

these were taken at my grandmothers house a few days ago.

icu

a glance upwards.
in your eyes a window.
infinite synopsis fired all at once
like a striking a brick of matches
on a strip of flint
with our bodies
we communicate more
than the mind can comprehend

the letter j in the american manual alphabet.

(please add to this post)

floor/ceiling

floor floor floor floor

ceiling ceiling ceiling ceiling

change bulb

change bulb

change

bulb

sweep

swee

p s

weep

∞+


everything good must die.
must everything good die?


∞-




for nick

what the slug knot said to me:

thick slick and spotted
fold over me
slide under
flow over
and inside
through again
and again
loop like
infinity
one beginning where the other ends
two become one
one being zero
we find that existing together
we cease to exist

A flash ignited the leather skin as a fist drew closer to the kitchen's swinging overhead...
...Words, in various states of assemblage and completion, fled blind.
from mouths_________to ears_ _ _to mind

action exits with the hue .backlit.backwashed. fullfrontalrouge.





{weave words with these pixels}
As an experiment, I want to grant the freedom to alter, invert, and distort any portion of this text. Words, sentences, and entire paragraphs may be erased, collaged, and reworked by anyone at anytime. Add symbols and play with text treatments.

The Yeti sounds

Howl to me in the night; pinpoint
on a threadbare map
Inconclusive rubbings of formless forms
hang somewhere between my heavy hand and weightless mind


Comment to add the next line

Images: Ali Reid

Where Ideas Come From

So thirsty. Eye lids peel apart in morning light....we need to get this machine up and running, fully functional, and totally operational. Just like every other day.

Looking over the lip of the well and theres still no water. We'll come back tomorrow. And try again.

Day two- Groggy.Weathered.Hopeless. Moving.
Looking over the lip of the well and theres still no water. But to my suprise I saw one giant rainbow clusterfuck of
------------s

---------N

----------O

--------O

--------L

------L

-----A

---B
floating towards the sky.

fløk

Fragments of clouds and space lingered in his keratin trap. His fragrance was that of fiery hot peppers drying in the afternoon sun. I think I heard a rumor that he was 9 seconds old, that is if you count the time it took for me to type this.

below,
a black void,
clouding towards the stuble black on his chin
Dancing with the strings of his easter bonnet
no more will the parade go on.

no more.

{add to the biography of this peculiar chap}

image: Kevin Clancy

Excuse Me, Do Y u Ha e A M u e?

Think for a minute.
you didn't really, think for a minute, did you?
did you think by 'minute' i meant 'moment' and so you only paused for a second,
not even, maybe just enough to observe the period and begin reading the next line?
well i didn't.
so lets try again.
think for a minute.
take your time.
did you read 'take your time' before your minute was up?
the minute starts at the period
and ends 60 seconds later.
try it again.
not yet.
now.
no.
not until i say:
Think for a minute.
well done.

If you succeeded take the pill to your Right.
If you failed take the pill to your Left.
Thank you for participating in our 60 Second Attention Personality Assessment.

I write for you (plural), but I don't know that I write to you yet.

I went to see Junot Diaz read tonight, and he answered a question about whether or not he thinks about his audience by talking about who it is he writes for. He talked about the universal born from specificity, and about how, at any given time, you speak directly to one part of your audience, and the other part feels like they are overhearing a conversation, so it can be hard to determine who actually derives more pleasure from those moments.

Who is (y)our audience?

"When Papa was away at sea, and Mama in the arbor...

Ida played her wonderhorn to rock the baby still - but never watched."
- Maurice Sendak, Outside Over There





Write a short passage about how you marked time as a little kid.

When you done went gone.

The roof flew open, wider than windows, and we weren't scared of spelunking. I found my way home again, and my heart hurt for how much I miss you. Velocity up, with the miles. Scaling far more than walls and buildings and catwalks. When the weather gets cold, it needs to get back to the same. We have to be better than this.

Images: Ali Reid

Untitled 2

Cursive limbs. The design is elegant when reality is distorted. Minute chases the second hand. Smoke and mirrors turned inside out. Behind a tattered veil of humid South America shines a smile of serrated teeth,lips. Gun barrel.Insipid carress.drool down to the base.ShiverShutterSurrender. Day to day. Reel to real.
"i wanted to destroy something beautiful", he said.
Born from scars. Maybe that's all we're meant to be...inbetween cracks in the soil. But this changes everything. Mouths/weapons/words/ammunition. To start average wars among average people. dig and pry through the wreckage...save the sole surviver.
Bleach white, blood red. cut&paste dreams.
"i wanted to be the last one to kiss you before i killed you", she said.
Trampled.Crushed. Fast forward through that scene. Walking on glass. Swallowed by filth. Seized by delight. There she is, Hope, hanging.something beautiful spinning in umbilical bliss. Tied by her throat. Air
squeeze slowly.

1,000 miles an hour. Switching lanes. Spun around.
Speechless.

Autumn's last leaf flutters down..

A Year for Cicadas

They crack loose from their own backs.
Abandoned shells, highway trash,
black smoke suspension in the tense august air.
An immediate reminder to keep moving forward, because the past is seldom a carcass worth carrying.

images: Ali Reid

Transmissions shadowed her craterous epidermis. It was the glow of a swelling pregnancy, indistinctly accompanied by visceral bruises. One breath warmed the white tile ceiling like engine exhaust, while sirens offered |||sonic||| reassurance to seduce Ulysses. Crackpipe blues and lemon pulp. Aural mirages transcend synesthetic bliss. Only the outline gave