---

holiday tray. smoke chain. ear-lead.
fuck you? fuck me, lobe bone.

OooooO, line wiggle in the belly of my
fat head

drip giggle

Aims is playing with bare teeth

you don't say

transducer. loose interior.

rum balls
pumpkin pound cake
all I really wanted to do

was?

kiss.

doodles

feet in the grass

wandering, wandering

reefer breath. a green stillness.

my semen on strange faces. the backseat of
death

-In The Next Room-

is everything Okay?

no, and I'm sure it's me, my
get-drunk-want-stare

pulse inmate

teal smile.
striking erection.
ampule.

saliva skating

outside, the city glows. Nina doesn't know why
but, chartreuse comes to mind.

you said we could leave soon
you said the empty spaces
are bothersome

where did I leave my flower

right where I put it

where?

in your hair.

'It's Cuter This Way'

the rain: at the edge
of everything

the sky: upside down
in a puddle

cuesta. red cloud motel.

corners running into corners
sinus headache. torn paper objects.

I hate it here..

untitled

halotrichite hair. tube socks.
slutty spine. tender hyphen.

Nina finishes her cig, gets up and slides over to the fridge.
Takes out a glass bowl, filled with lemons. She loves their
still, bright light. She sets them on the small table, next to the jar
filled with flowers.

can you hear their tiny
watery, murmurs?

he smiles & turns around ..

the lemons or the flowers?

flowers

didn't I give you a yellow one?

no

shouldn't there be some sort of seasonal veggie in that bowl?

no.. I like lemons when it rains. I'm going to log on.

why?

I want to label IP addresses.

nah, don't. get back in bed, you need rest.. I'll rub your back, we'll listen to the rain

.

wavy clasp. electronic
moon trance. secret
listen:      long
bird. (we should have kept it)

    gravel. thighs.
skinny sky_lines.

    smooth walking. a key turning.
fibrous cores.

     walls. terminal. torn
polyester membrane.

dented mouth approaches nude legs

please.. no one lives here

wet hair spread out on bare mattress
slender wristwatch
fiercely ticking

Nina rolls over:
icy black
tattoo
on the small of her back


.

.

.

NEX/US

-MONDAY-

in the room where we don't really ever wake
light silvers this & that

under an uneven quilt
my face points to the ceiling

but your pupils seem soft

I once read that dust is mostly dead skin

dancing a jig. finger prods.
fluted column. anaesthetic lock.

gutted wing. sitting shade. your blush
has its own reciting of around. clown.

turn star. water metal.
why are you so pissed off?

mispronounce. snare glass. spooked sill. link.

ah.. I kiss your violent wrist. ajiaco! back! plum!

the fat cat slinks out of the closet
stares at them
then swaggers over to the small nightstand
jumps up
knocking over two plastic cups.

outside, the sky presses its postcard blue
onto the window.

frozen aesthetics. glass inlay.

I've been thinking about changing my name to, Anya

suspended. camisole. delicate brush strokes.
dove.

but Nina doesn't hear his last thought. she is already drifting again. riding
bright equine forms. dazzling in tired subways. her heart a generator. memory clip,
flickering. apocalyptic tights tucked neatly into short boots. amethyste eyes
shattering.

by the time you get back, I will have sketched your image on this headboard.
I will repair your eyes with lullabies. place the perpetual motion of soft
universes under your sweet feet. pull your thighs into a more private plot, & re/velum your pillow.

will you paint my hair that new
metallic
'slipper orchid' color?

.........


-TUESDAY-


they wake to the happy sound of the cat
swatting her bell-ball across the floor.

Nina decides it is the perfect day to
organize all her umbrellas.

we should go out today.. sit in the garden

I don't feel like getting dressed

you don't have to, I can decorate your skin in clusters
of dark secrets. we'll take the cat with us.. watch her hunt

get lost in the sound of dying, the rustling of sad

we'll take a picnic brunch & your
red Lambrusco.. "motionless as peace."

will you read, "Sonnet to Satan" to me?

"Sonnet to Satan", indeed. how 'bout,
"Ariel"?

long
thin
silence___________________________

broken by the plop &
skid of the fat cat
landing on top of the fridge.

make it, "The Night Dances"
and you've got a deal.

"motionless as peace" is from a poem by Emily Dickinson

"Sonnet To Satan"
"Ariel"
and
"The Night Dances"
are poems by Sylvia Plath

list

1) some sort of incense to put in 3 ring zip-up binder
2) find out if there is such a thing as a red morning glory
3) compliment ____ on some of his newer stuff
4) what words are clouds born with
5) wash curtains
6) fingernail polish - clear
7) silver cufflinks

bulk. 231.

[empty] attachments.

Nina Goes Harlequin

Nina wakes and wishes she could spill her heartache into the room
but it is already too empty
& big enough for a battle

written on one wall
in an explosion of rust:
I DROPPED BY TO SEE YOU

yep, you dropped by alright
just like a flushable moist wipe

beep beep
incoming message from
mr yellow mellow:
found those mouse skin gloves you wanted

and?

and one glock 9mm

I don't remember asking for one of those, you gumless socket!

my dear friend, you don't remember alot of things lately.. TTYL

he was right, she spent far too much time drifting between dream stations
watching ________ spit his seed into every porcelain ashtray of an open link.
damn him! he was the dark star taped to every page she wrote, a blue moon stuck in her throat.
Nina fights the urge to dig out her opiate tuck. instead she puts on her favorite dress: pale & cool with real leafy undertones. she adorns her hair with a few closed michelia champaca buds, grabs her silver purse & skips down the
sometimes there - sometimes not

Unable To Send Because Of Spurious Software

Nina puts on some soft head plus fingers and writes:

click-clock,

thanks for the leaf full of time.
don't forget the murdered when
you dismantle

who would not fall to your stroll


killer feathers



tiny channels

kiss.

..///././/..

Nina Loses The Remote Control

his close echoes surround her teeth
his style is her style

spread out
&
smoke mellowed


she wants his lips
to wiggle on her forearm
his tongue to
make her move
like
a
fast
car

her mouth can taste his face
his saw-hair
his knees

she wants him to grease his thoughts
and slide slower

do you want more?

she nods &
adjusts her eye shine

Tuesday

she woke up with one sock on and
one sock off

they were green knee-socks and
reminded her of the girl scouts and
that goofy sun on the old kellogg's
raisin bran box .

on the mail screen from Valentino Body:
dig, Date: Feb 5:37 AM Spam or ? ]

these `,`,`ords in heads, burn.

clock rod order
arks and your hands
i've flagged tomorrow,
you red bow nanna absorbed in white

Check Clear Next

then
that little slish- swishing sound
like in the beginning of that postal service song,
Such Great Heights

Nina Rides A Hundred Miles In Six Hours

her sleep is mystical nonsense
she can not answer his shape
only sense his face
he has a beard
artfully disguised as soft

after midnight nina gets caught in the mesh of search

passing a mysterious pile-up of kisses
the brakes start cracking &
her windshield buries all mass of runout stars
maybe even footsteps
always beautifully missing

conditions:

she has avalanche dreams
teddybears with eyes cuffed in blue

once champagne fell from the heavens &
a drunk boy put out his cigarette

Nina Smiles..

he is relentless
ping ping ping

she had to google the name
an interview in 3am

a short story about the infected
she thinks perhaps he needs some sunshine
other than the artificial kind

for once the annoying dogs attempting to access her computer
aren't getting on her nerves

her coral hair will soon be
quiet & locked in sleep

the cat naps with her new

dd.element[0]

take a picture, it will last longer

to them of plastic extensions &
perfect buttocks
this solar hole is vulgar

somewhere a motionless lunatic is being struck
& windows applaud by
extending their eyes:

architect
veins
a living taste or waste
wireless
bloodless

malarkey:
a civil layer of jam on cracker

cracker:
donate
raw hide
pinmonkey

a 'thing'

the voice of time is heavy
a revolving satellite
a toilet

is there such a thing as calm
pollution

sang u in o lent

in the hum of dark
cool towers

lovers in the shower

@ gifts.com
a man spends too much on
roses & silly string

So Hot

like skin.a love, slightly dainty.
protection.
tender softness in text area above add
not keep-out

so I paste the sky with
petal laughter & wild toes

I can desktop,
photo-montage
the worm preserved, A solid curve.
Type and click text
cut it
have random acts
in the cracks
where night smiles
freeze
white

then crawl down into the slow window
blowing the machine
Google black leather, to fit tip of finger
while rubber is Tight & pasted

your move is checked
to finish your soul-can
full of still, small, sweet cakes &
yes, the sucky sun, coming
hits the panes,
and you
fist to your mouth