Twin Peaks - "Holding Roses" [Official Video]

The Fat White Family front man Lias Saoudi interview | 2016 | The Drone

The Kinks - Supersonic Rocket Ship

Sparklehorse/PJ Harvey - Eyepennies

Nine Inch Nails - All Time Low (HD)

“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
though
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
someday

“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
jk
*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,
instead.

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

your voice where the seagulls are
an upward
like
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
cruiser
mind dissolving
alone on a park bench
licking mustard off a brat
softly us ;
i’m lips
you’re pills
can u spork
methane
wide-eyed
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

Me, reading someone else's poem:

https://soundcloud.com/merrilymerrilymerrilymerrily/tashakleinreads-1991-byfromfromfrom


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
magnetized
but
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
seriously
look past the rivers
for
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
chapped
lips

"TITLE"

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
again

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
whip
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
remember
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

"STUCK"

i hate when u go missing
& only leave me this damn car
with the eye of the ghost
dangling from the rear view mirror
and
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

“swisher”

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

sorry

but

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

hey
of on
but
isn’t

doorknob turn

your glasses shining
your fingers tweeting
don’t

himanshu
bundle
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!

Brian Eno & David Byrne "Strange Overtones"

“waitin 4 u in the”

green lobby.

outside the weather seems
confused &
traffic
a murderous trap
i hope u didn’t get into an accident
you’re always so tragically
lit
okay
going in alone

sitting at the bar are a couple of tv men
plotting culpas

i get on a bar-stool like
a bad ass hot line
bag full of stolen time

imma order a
‘hexameter in your heater’
styler cryer! why u so mama-mia

mea late?

“i think you look like an owl in those particular glasses”

but you’re cute when you aren’t crying &
you have a great voice & i feel your sad lines
cuz i was once like you
so ..

what
if you die
folding your molding elegy

Quietly

into
circles
around some shit-head’s bed and/or bar

you in a bad suit
you
if augur were a color

cadence is so your forehead

“DEAR DAUGHTER”

I guess we’ll winter the backyard recipes.

Since when does the idea of calling home “fill you with creepy
feelings, like centipedes”?
Passing hell because somewhere coats are on sale.
Bees are the sun, Lion Girl. They know suffering.
You could check on the dogs, you know; those old comedies

of misdirection.
I moved my desk into the summer wardrobe,
the one with the haunted wi-fi.
Someone tried to fax
hair to Dad. We’ve strung the house
with network points. Don’t trip.

“because u miss me”

in black
with u
@ A party

i exist &

shining ghostly in that movie ,
your dead flowers ,
the hook of away

“a way” ?

no -
“away” .

we played dominoes
like shapes in a poem
u drew the pentagram on my car
off key

“sleeping beauty wakes and says”

my arms are just arms
the mammoths draw

hey baby :
telecommunication
love-husk

ghost texting
again?

Fat White Family- Complete set / SXSW Hotel Vegas 2014

“notes on why leaves must have their comeback”

the oceans leap
from hot to naked
divinity stays at the lake

i so
went clean

when u gonna leave
the burning lie
the bong drinking smokers
a death poem for cutie

something is linking your mind
2 my atlas
u can be: the sunset
on tourism
on vast pale panels
the flaring care curve
of amerikan thighs

hold october
with a credit card
&
act out
the entire shogun haircut
{mountain based with clean bangs}
livetweet a razor for true blood
spelled-out as i c e

“Beyond The Wall Of Sleep”

all heads:
water

visible
& sexy

a shoe in each hand
sponsored


politics in 72
lick dick

angela 4 president


modern art
pee
so
important
it’s kept in a cup

i dreamed
a nameless junkie was after me
i was all
katy western wear
with lasso hands & cinnamon hair

u where
in el nasty club
a paper doll made simple-
no need for eyes

first batch of pics from washington DC

http://bookofnina.tumblr.com/post/129041728664/tried-feeling-alive-this-weekend-by-breaking-out

"WE'RE"

turning over
another sharp wing
only to read ,
‘is the dead swing happy?’

we sit
inside
a bird’s tear

snap open
tricks of light

fall
in love

with salt


-

u can’t see me now
my hips are failing
and the oracles see
tips of heaven being gathered
just for angels to
grenade

-

this is so mixed up
like
drunk dials
are the guts
on your lawn

-

doused and devoted in the nights of nod
river boy
u dropped your snuff bullet in the parking garage


-

our private joke is

'pray to poseidon from the glory couch’



listen
soft chorus sounds

then
miles of highway

to
a party in bloom
you try to
drag out the first move
so that it is
permanently spooky

concrete in the periphery and then
these kids fire-escape someone
as

violent
ribbons

&

the whole feeling
an oil spill in the grid

it
benadryls us

&
i trace your smile ;
it’s like a constellation

" "

augmented reality:
all signs stuck to velcro & we’re listening to autopsy -
“dark like a subreddit” / all exits locked.
we call in transfusions. to the blood park.
wake up at a funeral.
your T-shirt says, GO ENTROPY!
blood vessels and stars leak into our car-jack video.
we steal light from alien trees, walk into vine/wine hour.
what the hell is a vine, anyway? the valve of a door?
radiation. the universe faking its own story.
reincarnation makes me tired. the bartender
is blowing up twitter with his cock tail science.
here’s to
short conversations @ high tables,
bruises identified on a bar stool, and
and seeing beneath the crowd.

“i’m dressed as victim chic, playing vision quest by myself in the dead arcade of the dead mall.”

waiting on u, with my heroin affliction. are we in a movie? brown dogs run
unleashed thru the theater. i have med checks in my pockets, i don’t know
what for. a resurrection failed. was i suppose to meet u here,
or at my apartment? i want to walk home but i can’t google it. i want to
go home and change into an angel so you can murder me with just
your mouth. like out in some field Cain is listening to no one. the girl that
lives in the apartment next to me, has two kittens named Risperdal & Ritalin.
our roof-top garden smells like panama and tonite is so temporary.
i dare u to sleep here and play quest in my mouth. let’s go out.

the beautiful streets
look
like mirrors.

"soon enough the sun will rise"

Dreaming in
the language of your
appearance & the lack of. I’m trying to forgive
and look a little convinced. You remind me again to write the
letter,
Boo!
I do, and I want to join your club
so I walk with you while you try to drink
and swim.
Ah, the talons of summer, scratching everyone’s skin.
Ages & real names are making a come back. I always enter
what hasn’t happened yet.
Just look at them. Nothing fits anymore.
And those who are dead, grow. Is it easy to quit a job
and sunlight?
Is this broken-window talk?
There is a sad loneliness in hotels. Do U feel it too?
Here, I packed this Frankenstein tote with lots of moisturizer
& vitamin D.

“this poem has nothing to do with you, in 60 words.. more or less”

Embrace the darkness in which we roam. There isn’t a new church

In the woods;
Only ancient, garnet flickers. I looked. The deer, a mural on water. Dew-drops
In someone’s hair. Volumising the lift - we squeal! The moments sparkle & glow
Horror vacui in the night, all night. We pump & jump. Molecular memories.

"U don't know where u met me"

but it got u into ancient greek
everything facsimiles eventually and blurs the history of the valley, the freeway, the you, — messing around with death, using Gmail with god screens & savers

making birds speak marketplace &
Himalayan in the same accent.
Skip to content
ask me if i got it for satan ask me if
the daylight rn is a prayer i forgot to rough draft
to me u feel like a low grade burning
and u r probably getting sunburns w/clones and that witch that looks like a kind of 90s Woolf when she was the last sort of cool thing u remember happening.

nah. what really happened is i started writing something decent and i lost it because i am having a hard time with copy and paste on this new dellerina

so what’s Happening? another great scary growth in a new suburban house? I’m trying to see you but u are standing between two car headlights. Headlights. — machine light i now fall from
blind
signals
buildings are a rough mouth
conversations
form
systems
pool
alien designs
sit in your lungs
and what about the animal bites
i take arms against the 139 remix
america repeats
@midnight i turn into 0. 0. 08 GB
misunderstood

"we navigate into saturday nite, as victims line up to write the wrong poem"

i’m in reverse and you are backtracking

okay. tell it. i am listening

joan of arc logged into pretty

i have drugs and i want to make it with you

we were put in that war

hero slicing

violence in the only pay phone

sympathize with sharks stuffed full of plastics

i hit the glass and fly involuntarily toward that stairwell

i see you there

signaling storms

on ice

your biggest irrational fear

the gnostic dollar sign dangling over my dash

i’ve been an ocean sucked into a tornado

religion is me kissing fear

the base of your skull

flat printed-circuitry

"The Last Word On Attitude Of The Quiet",

the only place to buildings. We discover the alleys but learn to watch each baby step, fold light into the tightest places.Little Istanbul at the Gare de Lyon. In this weird pain, we rarely see

what resides, only feel like adding heft to the spill.
Of a need to recover? Need to recover. We meet at the end. Corpses of a moment. The toxic illuminated in our eyes and skin. Another world. No money. A thin, white, sugary girl, sparkling evocatively even on strawberry pastilles. No one wants to interview the terrorist poet; we fight aimlessly on, past ambulances cloudy with second hand smoke, past the unexpected hard drops, the pharmacies with their red crosses. Our solitude knows no name, just music. There is no more dome to dream under. We are out! Out, cutting poppy into a shortcut. Our feet left there. A sensory image: two irregular sonnets, slight matte daubs of past invasions, transgressions. I feel like you are Roman Catholic so we set a goal - the highest part of the city, Sacré Coeur. For the longest time the hills keep arriving but no mountain stops. Dervishes appear out of no where & try to sell us their ritual dances. Maybe we’ll leave. Float down a country road, where we can find a holy inbox everywhere.
Jul 20, 2015

"ashley paints all mermaids on fire"

today
a vinyl mini skirt
i know blood once had a reflection in its shine
it is the color out of space
shaped like someone else’s miserable

i can see outside my future
because i’m my own guiding light
my eyes
green installations
before this was born
i died
and we all pull out of the rain
the gold veranda
burning children
picking the sun

*

If you are marbles
i can’t imagine collecting husks
for the right lines

all because of a dream generator
a gap in the brain
hotel some hot velvet
look mom
no hands
just cheap ass fireworks set off by strangers

i notice things
empty
out of the hospital
the shoot-touch of other body anythings
again and again i surge into this state
toy love bride of feelings
i hate that shit
the nothings the overconfident
are you burning hot dogs for the next 20 years
PM me
because

radio
possessiveness

i suppose you are a good person
i’m on chemicals on a whole other web
a shark
mountained
i don’t think i could stand
smart phone bangs &
tree
collectricity

or i am
millennia

connecting

"while scrolling down your tumblr page my browser crashed and i had to fill out a crash report"

i couldn’t sleep so i got up to look at your offerings
again:
so many eyes they put a hole in the wall
there is no substitute for a tray of syringes
nothing better than sleep walking from cloud to cloud
one leg left on the couch
the pills
blue skies
a coffin to trace
and cut out
later

sometimes i get in these morose moods
go to target practice and think
peter should be scared

honestly
this whole thing started (for me)
with that Instant Crush video
that detached
vocoder-assisted voice never left my head

“picture scape:”

wars of light-fall
socks too high
and night formica
in the counter-net

i pull
facing east
thirty thousand ropes to none
in a room once unknown
the walls
really anywhere
stirring
dart rays
an end
in anyone’s dream

&

strange
smiles


june 14th 2015

“searching for fidel casserole”

drive!drive!drive! you scream while ripping open another gooey ziplock disaster
keep goin! straight!
listening to “kali” by your-absurd-foreskin & everything is on slim oz settings.
i open windows for something like enlightenment and you are label master competition loyal -total blunts – ssheeet meet BEDTIME! i hate being the end with peyote muff

somewhere, hell is delivering its first breath in prophet curls: ancient ITT guy meets certs sucking weirdo, and will slash me & my illegal routes with win across all numbers. now i am on wall st
watching a thick bartender do a bloody mary
and behind sun two; the Jesus luster of THE blind, a rock for yer dreams
and finally finding the toilet boxes! still paved with country cuties and magnum prostitutes tinted with Y2k blush, past the indie polish sausage stand don’t be a baskin head and pay the hansel!
i bump into Scott Weiland explaining smeared with linoleum teeth and vodka breath
in bare-feet, & somehow & some time later

i find the skyline car and u r still sleepin so i start driving all cross cloud lash and depressed into another world-run where dirty is eggplant and cherry is violet mercury punishing perverts with zapping zippers and finally
once again we’re cruising over the last beckoning clover median

may 9th 2015

am i weird to take pics of my stuff? nah. i wanted to record the progress of

my window boxes, because next summer i am going to plant a couple more, like 5 or 6. anyway, i turned the first two boxes around so now the hot pink flowers are facing the church parking lot and the purple ones are facing my balcony door:


this is the newest box - i planted 2 different types of "sedum" in it, because i am going to put it out on the railing in this building's unheated entryway/hallway this coming winter, and from what i gather, sedum can take the chill:
i turned up the color it looked blah



(i am listening to HTC's latest, beautiful, music, as i post..)




the ole house guard is now the balcony guard:


..



..



the old asparagus fern plus baby and mondo grass, which i have to give to someone to plant in their yard because i have had to repot it every minute - not a container plant

last post, gotta go now!

someone says your name

and your
sun-striped teeth make you approachable
howling
like the window blinds on the porch
we see your eyes
on the tiny screen
and they are amazing
i am going to write this because
tab clouds cover star points
because we’re always distracted
like waves
that can never pod botanic

and even
each monstrous
curve
has a beating heart
trying on
(at least once)
the snowy white
that could hold forever

*

my winter is a shadow
that will soon eclipse
the tiny origami birds
we fold together
and i will brave the weather from the corner of my ordinary life
wishing for a couple of downers
on my days off
remembering all the skin poems i wrote
suede sky ballads on the roof
for the already inflamed

if words could change
the physical
who would you be and where would i find you

*

"expired pop tarts and a dozen tamales"
morning chatter / brain knuckles /
i’m down with it / radio a.m. / egg sling / chasing you around the golden fridge / feeling this kitchen is a higher life / sunny stove / bloody 91 degrees / gleaming pots /
hooks in a song / a traditional blvd thru poem city / sunshine walls / fragments of xMas stuck in a book / bowls of sugar / flops / you’re so funny on the highest level / we should go to brownsville and start a fire / i’m cooking new things / shadowy and sexy / we’ll find your people / try not to worry / they are probably in a shelter / confused /
phones dead / time pushes morning into sad sparkle / camouflage / fiestaware and green eyes / unframed day poem 804 / pineapple growing on a windowsill / squirmer boy / canning truths / we lie to each other on the stoop / talk summer / getting heavy in the / hot garage / clutter / junk / in the left corner / a tin wreath / hangs /


*


“STRUNG-OUT”



him
telling
a table of old witches
they’re just clutter

barren motions and
a scratched baby photo

time hack
crack
sleep before
the sapphire burn
until goodbye
until the day can repair itself

used images
fall
according to this
stream
your life is empty
watch in silence
with
dull eyes
comment with
hands open
against
the blankness
yellow nails
&
blue
smoke


...

'i can't find the ringing phone, i am lost in another fever'

wandering around
on bare feet
in a broken pool of ice
speak for me
fallen in snow slippery as oil
lonely love
i find the phone between couch pillows darkening
your face
i breathe wind through the branches in my chest
you’re sayin’ something ‘bout food
and
i need to shave my legs
pool boy start trembling in a time thicket
there are dinosaur monsters
bubble bitin’
spitting dew
through even more time
it hits my plexiglass
snowballs between the eyes
brilliantly stinging

once i smoked myself hollow

..

"i can’t wait till we are super gods"

and

fuck-up

all social media
or

just re-arrange face-hook and
blow up
heaven’s boring feather exhibition

we’ll burn all casual photos of Daedalus
in the old museum and make electric labyrinths
wrong
there won’t be any feeds & streams
just
spit and shit

all ghosts leave for the islands
as nuclear exoskeletons

we hitch rides with them
as Cotton & Candy

..


"The Bed Is The Car"

when you’re high as jonathan livingston
carving monstrous wholesome in the sand
thinking about all that fish
wasted

o, to slip out of bed
and step
into new skin
unpolluted & young

remember when it was easy

to

tunnel to the exit
&

how the dark
would eventually shed its scaly heels


remember when u were calm
& only used math
to turn love
upside-down

&

then slip behind the wheel

..



"after opening the gates"


i unfold you
a faint line on the wall
a sky-room full of wrecks
our imagined teeth
shiny glass
dressed in the beauty of a bare forest
i kill you
clutching paper
then leave in the shape of a rosy river
spooling

..


"CAR TITLE MIX_UP"

surrounded by calenders
that impossible photo
of us laughing through winter
laughing thru court
spilling coffee
on an acreage of notes
thrilling foxes
the smell of being bound
by leather
the heavy in beautiful
the underneath of alone
a box full of sometimes

sadness on a gavel

*

i’m wearing a geometric dress and holding a pink paper cup
because i am trying to take myself back
into summer
back to the garden-party. back to
the taste
of: lime, salt, coke and smoke.

you
without your nails
untitled
crossing flesh bone
as an unarmed

no name



..


"here’s to looking at you in a tough magnetic way"

it is
the
unsaid-text-disease
we say together
all twang and

boy

did u know
those glasses and that fur
give u sort of a pimp / noir vibe

nah

natural born kisser on
tornado crystal

our poisoned eyes
spin in the dashboard lights

we dread
the blue
sluggish aftermath
of hitting the jackpot

so

we are stalling

a bells and whistle paradox

invisible wings adhered
i show no wear
in my street
blazin
thigh-highs

this just in from the big guy in the sky:
the truth will shake shelves at the sun

sometimes i fake impossible falls
...


"my feet have been cold all day, will you make coffee"

i see nothing
cept an empty rental car
across the road
in the snowy dusk
in the portal
someone’s chicken answers to nimrod

& the monsters sit
in their long letter beds
glistening sleep

their eyebrows are stapled on
it makes me sick
to look at them
to move past the snoring tide

i follow the pillow line
to their empty
audio-heads
hanging

still wet
from the ritual
cardiovascular curl
pulsing tiny things
only borrowed in white

found ghosts running thru glass

sleep is in us
in all of us
the giant of looking
the revlon of space

...

"chill, in the snow"

like
so
almost everything we’ve done
we’ve forgotten
angels jogging backwards
almond hair
simple lists
fleshy trix
moving towards the rocking-horse wilt
a skull face
dies different
at the keyboard
white
open
wet
and the body
invisible
acrobatic dust
now
we take turns
being lions
being boxy-baby
rolling in the garden
spitting roses at the trees
we need a bail out
a long kiss
the tip as hot
the wound
a snowflake
the arrow
freeing the fakes
so we don’t growl

wolfman
...

“hurtled”

thru a melting space
that’s how your well-worn

fuck-off
arrives

that’s how
naked towers
topple
smashing petals and light
bodies lay strewn
about main street
take gander
each stroller
playful
cirrus
clouds
grassy wisps
squatter cries
inside leaves
day apples

i can’t do the math
it is still
so
terribly twisted

and from this moment on
i shall no longer stumble
just maybe do a slow fade
like a streetlight bruise

like the nothing
that cuts the tongue faster than
a blaring
goose
fucking in the open dark

christ

ingot

just tear the photo up
on
video night

*

i can’t watch your star snuffling
the way you flame fences
with your vacant hands
i’d rather strip a playful burn
than fan a broken wrist



*

i guess you just
eradicated eden

a flamingo blaring
off limits

in colour

i sit alone
on my throne
good goddess of the shaft
ice of thorns
glisten in my hair
a pine scent
memory
in a new winter
salty tear of mortality
the night chants
dandelions
and little bird souls
close & lock
the royal gate of blood & bone
..



"now wht?”

so now wht
will our graves
deep in a grove
touch the same stone
or the worn path to the marketplace
will an ancient one
stretch these beds like the starry spines of a galaxy
the bright curve of our leaving
a commotion of reaching
will it stain a tiny emptiness
in an even tinier mud-walled hut
will the pine we sleep in
be forever pining in the ground
a sacred symmetry of how-do-you-do
only slightly rearranged
perhaps a cool lining-clasp is
touching & robotic
beetles have gathered
to hollow out rivers of bone

-=-=-=-

then in another spot
a sleepy trickle
the smothering of a box
a strand of sand
the drowning mouth
another ancient one
leaning against a rented fence
whispering the completeness of a playground
or a ceiling
over lovers
the endless shores of a small square
mountains of now
& in the peripheral
a common housefly

-=-=-=-

this is the future
the pigment-on-plaster blend
a guy standing in the street
eating a bag of potato chips
his face partially hidden
by a cherry-wood beard
no one knows it’s
michelangelo
contemplating
another
god-wall
..


yah! test drive! by Tasha Klein

tunes:

redlight 02 (feat.

hornet & shuga twigz)

light as starflight

grown dark
&
shadowed

bcuz

absence is:

a spiral tag

sky seats

& ventricular windows

throw

fake sun-

crackle

..

shake up the ice

run holes

highway sparks

step on the gas

smoke the up
thru glass

…

vowel burns
vomit
kiss to imagine
tart face
rubble grass
close to cut
circle ties
lipstick collar
plum treacherous
...



“a kind of space patchwork”


u were in my dream this morning
in avalanche-speak
we slid down hills
or just froze into

a rigid
two shadowed
thing

black sky &
a beautiful
fog tree

a garlic crop glowed orange
that orchard is a joke
u said
so we pretend-swam
over it

in a restaurant with
glowing walls
we read the news
another wasted army
tears blossomed in me
i let the slanted sadness drop
how long will we be trapped in work city
i sobbed
another couple stared
their mouths
sere swards of coarse bits
a waitress appeared
she took down our order
with a cattail

...



“a poem about missing u”

habit to recognition
come in please
electrically serially
talk louder
lipstick it
to me

i dreamed you cut me out
of your selfie
and i died
i dreamed
lego purses
pentheus by-blocks
&
how the sky misses the worse

&

the giant power of imagination

we were kids in a blurry state

then we were older

deities

drinking ensure out of breakfast cups
pouring time
onto deserts

our tattoos reflecting the stars

..


“divine heartbeat”

essentially my want is a beautiful
pink

i see you
omit
buy and kill

i’m glad
may the adjuster stay red

but my room is still blue
a complicated blue
in a terrible world

so give me the night
it’s just clothing
..

“too tired to perk-up & act lucky”

but
listen
to the clicking

ice cubes
& cross out
round one
of the elixir
of me
this foolish broom head
wanted to experience something
in rainbow dew
trick you in stockings
smoke the locks of the bared
hydrant
lurk in the bark of the moon
play status
wear the cape made in china
around little dark corners

...

“watch the comments fall..”


heavy like dinosaurs on an internet testament
stories of yourself have bodies
tweet and see
horrible deleted people
crash on myth interstates
laughing and driving is not a crime
yet

flowers explode after the screenshot

let’s try to remember the beauty of ghosts:
Isnt & Wasnt
..

“wrote..”

the dreaded love poem
the other day but i’ve been working so much i don’t have time to post it

and now i am going to bed

hey
did u hear i’m moving up
to sterling
suite 21
with a doorbell
full of spider kisses
and resin in the speakers

i’ll be out
in my
hollow face
wild eyes
exposed
waving to the cars going by

looking for you
while my feet
tread water
under
a frightened
moving sky

i’ll be lusting for loose sleep
my dreams netting out
to a fathom ocean
letting words splash around
like turtledove milk

i did windowboxes this yr and more stuff to edit

“This Started Out As A Jesus Pome”


there are so many astonished

angel wings

o studded child
leaching  swings
dreamy white
&
throwing explosive tucks
at the untucked

moon light

you will halo your sun-mousse
breathless

wear a lizard’s fragile skitter
like legs  just to

smuggle graves

down streets of litter


;;



and u were dressed like a parking circulator

< to park the dead? the s-matrix? >

putting up time in the garage

< putting out? >

my body is viral. remember?

< lol. a secret hot cough.
 my sultry horizon >

pulsing surveillance. mouth & cocoon.

< guilt alley >

just marketing the river’s lips

< compasses.  rolling.   bail. >

blooming blind downloads

< do u like talking in code? >

stapled dizzy


< armored important. *smile* >

sailing neon  kisses 2u

..

he not gonna wear a big ole ghillie tie just gonna e Jack U late
in his own slip and slide

hey team
your boy is live feed
on his way to being a real big deal
he say he will buy the whole
 crystal choir
& bag the bitches that tire
because they just won’t retire

fire in the dash
ash on the cash
kreepn in they butt
ham-around sound
really
?
b serious
is your knife a phallic symbol
tell the truth as i
roll
core aluminum
and we ridn in your latest
4 ton steal packn snow missile
i’m next to u in nothing but noho jewelery
boy
what ice-snap fash-trash

~~~  sigh ~~~
i’m gonna change my nom de plume, to yung paris

..

"aww, I have to go now  : ( “
after your eyes close
i watch lights stream across your face
like a silent waterfall
of something right
from a motel 6
not mere Kusama polka-dots

we stuck our hearts in tubes
and locked them in the trunk
you were kinda drunk and said
drive

listen
the skies are chokin’
another overdosed ocean

.

"work on later"
love turmoil &
rampant trolling
in the nike outlet

the camera clicks
lightning-fire
but
you have on
the auto correct

eye

& smile one of your
  innumerable ivory intensities

we’re somewhere on the border of planet LA
forgotten street people
forever jammed
in the country’s spyware
flame encrypted
sad flapping of wings

you tell me that i have a look:
very dreams

we eat at a
chinese restaurant
paper streamers
darkly dangle over our table and
a cracked
koi tank 
//////

 



“hot jungian paladiner”
temporarily holed up in the foreboding castle
far above the subject/s &
behind the wing-dings of nothing
i hate those in-between azalea girls
with their
 funky
young
wanna
radiance
they make me feel old


*

imma play Kid Charlemagne

 look for poems to cut

see lights in the fire

dying

my life - a
burning pile of paper

idk

**

one potato
two

gonna make coffee and
be mithraic and things

test - i think i figuredout what is wrong with this page, i turned off the translation feature and i think it is a little better

anyway. . gonna post a bunch of stuff to work on sometime soon i hope. and i have pics! i finally got some living room furniture! FREE! and i am excited! 
pic one

............





thru the glitch

we see you moving like a panther
personality 1
plus 3
across the parallel

to soul-kiss everything contra
to wake up another amerika
your mouth
the advantage
of pressed  juicery
never flat line subscriptions
so important like no bleach in the sway
& the feed for 7 - 11
so not new
so you fly
in the darkness
a pop-up for the pull-off
your yes-mates draw blue
hearts on a window
your t-shirt says
eat fruit - au naturel

in the courtyard: a splash of pavonazzo

tired of the fountain’s gushing mouth

a bird who speaks only ghost

body and cement

in some rhinestone narrative

a sun flies through darkness

**

we get
shadow
left-overs
and are okay with it

the short-handed distance

of our shared alley physics
move our feet like fast clouds

sometimes
it irritates me
the realization of

you can’t erase or blow up
what was never there

if i could paint i would paint the joke in peacock colors
on the side of a quail

..

a fleck in the crumble
but no cookie was found

swirling

in the mermaid’s mouth

a laughing leash

> ready rain is the behemoth of our time <

discourse masks your dark inflection

you really never talk
you just hand me weird lines


**

drafts are sometimes my sanctuary
to be ripped and broken

> another classic

cauldron “I” poem <

just finished the night with more dark space
crashed another small diagram
listening for day

..

hurry up it's getting scary in here
 

strutting thru predawn
the landscape rolling with rot shock
i am wearing my pale satin pinion rack
my roses all over you
my lovely retune
my roses all over you
up along the skies
the never scores of beyond
here
let’s piano that smile
dye fossils irreparable
we pass the language rivers
we pass little miss grey
even her awkward is divine
waking our heart with a drop
waking in the stream of leaping fish
the sheared tones of children
needling bliss

..

your dabs fill my cracks

 

maybe we’ll dine @ The Rain Dog
wear cloaks
sit under the
painted-on-the-wall
savior tree
our laughter
uninhibited
even if just for a while
the white rush of vodka
breath

>not sure what flavor is trending right now<

&

all your wishes swallow air

roughly

in the midnight
the depths are best
for breaking through this

i used to write a lot about being drunk
and getting laid
now i just wear glow-in-the-dark
heels and swivel over the shipwrecked
in due time
i’ll see you
smoking your e-cig
trying to hold
together
another network of hip-rip
faces
wavy on the surface
souls
thin
in their coats

..

idk

i’m not a bird
& i hate face-hook
i’m stuck in clono-pin
city
sky-lining wishes
and on spotify they say there is a hot dog you can trust
idk
tragedy eve to the sleeper:
you seem like you are going thru some sort of mid-life crisis

here, have an email bracelet

are you drinking your meme
because the jokes on you

yep. a mammoth morning - that’s my style

and you keep your killing regime in the relish

what do you promise those little girls

txt balloons?