Dec 22, 2016


love the quest. or:
godzilla vs the gorillaz.
your lips on the screen.
what a great time

pop back in

i was feeling so blue
history dangle from my rosary
new world order

triggered me
something awful

< no doubt, let’s drop colors & camelot the spot >


pass the plans, the OMD

(oh yeah, i’m off that mascot
make a list)


so you say?

back so soon..
to a new

vampires pretending to be humans pretending to be vampires

pretend it’s wine

this cold page of a cool book
is mine

death we are and death we’ve always been

even over the ole toilet hole


dusts off beer
throws it in the trash
fresh men in dirty times
not me
and you
you are hell prone
on a ram’s spine
what to do?
i fall back into the autumn nite
wishing i could still ride a bike
but i cracked my tail-bone
a long time ago
walk down to the bridge
on a one-lane road
the red-necks drive by in their trucks
the view to the left is vaguely crumbled

and i know the mountain is holding a buzz
i am nothing but my little poisons and stupid poems
but hey

the creek isn’t frozen yet
it races past
gurgling its wet laugh
at the geese or ducks

or whatever the fuck those things are


call me
singing that myself
beaming on the outside
scared on the inside
winding sounds better than racing

moon moment
watch out
the lost olive tied to a halo
i feel water drunk
when i look in your direction
i’m not on twitter but
i check your tweets
plum is just another color
for kiss
rain air
and earth me

you’re a star

“you probably over watered that plant”

like a hot love whale
in training to house a smile and happy chests - love breathing
say are you over there
with a father
wearing jesus
on his back?
you write storms with dust
real tongue detail
how street screen -
all i can do is scramble and unscramble
your sky
i’d join you
in the misery soup
even though i am over here
& i had the best damn dream this morning
woke up sobbing, why,
i dunno.
a bridge size tide of joy
it was winter, beautiful
snow, and his kiss was like fruit
in champagne
not that i want to be drunk
holy oysters of sleep!
emoji stars in humming grass
sorry i haven’t written
sorry your date didn’t work out

“kissing you”

kissing you
would be like letting the blowing wind
drown me
kissing you
would be like taking the wood out of the trees
and stacking our years
by wading (because you’re a baby) lake water
our online tracks
some mud in the middle of some grass

i wonder would your feet be a gentle heater or are they ice cold
when you cry
your tears would grow roots in my skin
you couldn’t get any closer

but nah
u would never leave your dark shed of wasteland

Oct 26, 2016

OCT 11, 2016

“in a way”

u r the history of my hunger
a fix like a place
a greenish millennia
covered in pink haze

we cast the bedspread vowel
pop open an empty phallus
& everywhere
the cool moon
just hangs

the night chicago died
we were on a quest
find the loom
rent a room

we stopped at a white palace
i had to have the fries and a vanilla shake
as you slid down a few sliders
someone slid into our car
and drove it
straight into the lake

where it may still be
like stone
cast ugly
under watery shadows

Molly Hatchet - Flirtin' With Disaster (Lyrics in description)

Jun 22, 2016

“i guess i’m a pot that calls the kettle black”

not drinking but still depressed
maybe i killed myself so often i am already gone
moon summer sleep
the dead can’t dance (never got into them)
a hallow shadow
trunks shot for murder
i’ll walk behind you and vacuum the ghost birds that fall out of your head
some people are just born ominous
your teacher was right
you have a knack for poetry
o dear o dear
be strong
baby boi
you may yet
score delicious
i’ll look for my sonic-bonding-tonic
we’ll build a sand castle
and a camel on the beach
stick em full of plastic swizzle
smoke some ice-tide
in the tumbling heat
put the note in the bottle

“sad bear wrapped in hunger:” may 14th 2016

*sky emoji*
did u throw out the beer bottles they make your room smell like dead mice
i’m off work today
here to cradle your big empty
*watches something silver scurry through bone-bag*
wow 2016 is streaking by
yeah, i get the feeling there won’t be much slow dancing 4 me
does dust settle in your hair as you’re rotting?

“dead, i say” may 8th 2016

as we sit in ghost chairs
in the food court
holding our sweaty cans of soft drinks. [mine is pineapple fanta (almost said, fart) and yours is a diet something]
i pierced your filter. the rubber sadness of your selfies.
*and what about you and your light-bulb alter of makeup worship?*
just trying to hold back the godzilla yrs., hide the neon blood.
*summer veins*
moon jellies

"what crawls here, in all this star blood;" april 22nd 2016

you. you are staining the blood and everything lanterns you to its dusk.
think of drills, and more silvery blood in a glacier’s wiry surf crack.
are you a snail in your green green anorak? how can i coax out your head..
vacant-man in there, trying to sleep. the poems cocooned beyond us _

a paint crash of decades, like an addiction with a triple chain-ring pulse. let me look in your
back-pack, let me freeze the snowdrift inside.
i want to throw the, ‘this’ at you, but hold you like a shell,

“I Have Nothing, I Have Everything” april 21st 2016

your voice where the seagulls are
an upward
in an
I shape) to stay alone
to fold this knife
wide-eyed over some reddish rolled
from India
tis makin me see, Jim
beneath the water
he’s close to my body
but can’t see
be like dumbo -
a mark, a feather
is okay i’ll gladly wait again in all the tinfoil lofts
or under a police
mind dissolving
alone on a park bench
licking mustard off a brat
softly us ;
i’m lips
you’re pills
can u spork
Love Talented
in our separate tin boats
we pass each other
like odd wisps
of smoke

“Hey Blowhard” april 9th 2016

explain to me again why every mtn is a canyon
explain again
how the stupid stole the garlic
it’s always 4am in the nothing and i am craving salt
low like deep
the basket map of your brain is an ink island
you’re lucky for that
i smile and we hold hands
the night tv flickers
through a blade of grass

Mar 10, 2016

Me, reading someone else's poem:

Me (Tasha Klein) reading Justin Ryan Fyfe’s poem, “1991″

wipe the snack salt from my fingers
to the sheets of my bed
u message me 100 years from now
and i crumble
into dust
like a 100 year old
sandstone bunny
i do lower than whispers
how i can forget and want w/e is there
i build a home out of blocks of ice
this is the foyer
where i keep the maps that belonged
to my now dead grandfather
i want kindness like air
my mind says alone 4:20 am
if i texted you now i think you
would be awake
a scene where the toaster pops
even tho we never saw
it loaded
im eating cashew pieces
not even whole or halved
the way you create a new thing
inside of the thing you meant to create
a tortoise on its back in the desert
or w/e
like ive said that b4
our past fucks us up but there you are
lingering like a lilly pad
floating on my back in my grandparents pool
near the lizards whos tails
grew back
after you rip them off
w yr small child hands

“sweet nothings”

just cuz
u ain’t nothin but squiggly
the chili was good
so was the cake gun
haha dirty pun
okay this is a poem crash
i have a toothache but am still
going in to work
i’ll be thinking about u
consuming all that pretend sadness
i’m wise to you now
you’re just a baby playr badass

"bad romance by lady gaga (or the disco-stick song)"

so u took a sip from the devil’s cup?
probably more than one sip
knowing u
a god for a few
just reach in the mirror
and pull out some new lungs
i know you can read my poker face
& that’s a damn muddy shame
on camera all my spells look the same
but back to you, yeah i just read the other day
you’re not even suppose to wash jeans
look past the rivers
the ghosts wearing masks and

measuring cups

“no lentil soup for you, davy crockett”

my computer automatically nets the tweets u delete
and i tap this virus like love
sweaty matters:
u want to suck that cross-eyed
hatchet-banged bunny tit
but u cain’t
so here
chew on some meatloaf
and then we’ll
trim your mustache
so i can see / taste those


in my mind i am already putting up art in our groovy house
pic number 1: us kissing on a beach of black sand

all lyrics say the obvious
like: snow boy chin spoon
but the www be breaking your head
i’m thinking he looks drunk sitting at that schematics machine
and all that had been purring is fried

that would be a problem
we could smoke weed but never drink

but back to decorating
back to the flower bucket filled with ghost
back to the wall were we would grow a misty pavement of
i’m sorry and goodnites and dancing i-luv-yous
forgetting to brush our teeth
my lazy baby python
i’ll slather my Bath&BodyWorks all over you
and put your hair in a pony-tail
your lips
with kisses

found poem

I love when you stop talking to me

And I hope your answers

“ hands u a new S T Y P T I C P E N C I L”

i don’t have a cell phone
i only have ulcers and high high high
blood pressure

oh, the haha of dancing thru infinity this fuckin sober
would be alright
if it were in THE fka body
and the wind from a nameless painting
were to sculptor me a new jawline
u could snip off jowls with singing blades

watch out
i bite
plateau of cat breath
definitely lips etc.
if i still have teeth
on the roof at midnight
so come on
stunt man
your tears hang
from my fingers
like sleep

what do you do when your years are up
i keep running down diamond lanes
in dirty socks & glass lipstick
headin to Wyoming
i guess


i hate when u go missing
& only leave me this damn car
with the eye of the ghost
dangling from the rear view mirror
i stick 2
the plastic
seat cover
all gentrified (lol)
u know
i’m so over the bf drown (he was a cry-baby)
i’m historically happy now
even though i know
blue skies have symptoms
& those wingless angels want to run our names
into a snow bank but wtf
come back out
we’ll steal another car - eat cake -
put a mini Minotaur on the dash


(let’s talk about when u made out with that guy cuz u were drunk)
right on



ugh to the 3 ∞
u smoke hold me beneath
i smoke∞ diamonds in the shower
to reflect of course
2:40 friendships
i’m creamy bad
some people
do funny tweets i do naked

r u gonna bluffa’ me? over da music?
i felt the dead of the cold door
& then our love was PM dust

“look at that apt selfie - u spread all asias with a fat cat”

of on

doorknob turn

your glasses shining
your fingers tweeting

in store clothes
i steal air-blankets

‘Scentless Apprentice’
plays on my laptop
it is extreme eyes and
mirror movement
and i keep guzzling water and sucking winter-mints

“re: @the beginning eat the tail”

because, i am watching, “the big white” and looked up the soundtrack to see who did the song, “Trouble With Dreams“.. turns out it was
Written by Mark Everett (as Mark Oliver Everett)
Performed by The Eels (as Eels)
Courtesy of Vagrant Records

and guess who Mark’s father is? .. Son of physicist Hugh Everett III, who came up with the ‘Many Worlds’ theory of parallel universes!