994 Readings

the operation

 some mornings are on and on
until you’re back in bed
gripping for a brick to
throw at whoever

on these mornings you
swear the neon 7-11 sign
is a sign and all creatures
are good and breathing
is just a way to check that
mirrors still work

and your dress or your jeans
have a special lightness to them
your hands do impressive things
that feel good while people in
another room are about
which channel to leave on before bed


so this is
what the fuck
they call the future

a glass house
full of spirited blondes
listening to afro pop

that river of awful channels
inspiring you to dream
in theme songs and
resizable text boxes

not that we don’t turn
the radio on from
time to time
it’s just that we’re
never satisfied
with what we find


i have five
minutes of
my feet flat
to the chest of
a redhead’s ghost

a motion like swallowing bricks
some dragging along in the dirt

i could stuff myself with
so many things
like this

and still never
fill what eventually
will leak
out into the aisle
of the bus


if i expand to fill
this entire starbucks
i will kill at least 3 people
make that 4


what space
a billion britney spears
temporary tattoos
you have leftovers
quit saying “no”

where the sofa meets
the floor
catching earth
by its collar
on its way out the door
we have such
bony hands
i never realized
i never dreamed
that this is what
falling could look like


i remembered the milk
i remembered you said don’t forget the milk
i remembered eating lebanese
making adjustments
to myself
i remembered wondering how often to change
do i change enough
i remembered thinking
that at the time
i remembered you saying something about that
i remembered great descriptions of light
i remembered having one headlight out
i remembered thinking those things are ugly
i remembered the calm
in his face; the impending sleep he showed through
his lips
i remembered eating that only after the fact
i remembered that it is a struggle


anyone could be
chest to chest
with whatever
it is that
walks in front of us
giving major signals
to all directions except inward
being king
being kind
of rewound in
the way it all rattles against two
shaking kings
whose atrophied legs
begin to mesh
to the buildings
named for them
in this way
the horizon
skirts failure
or pronounces it


one human touches what
would have been a
cold year
a thrust that —
toward the ignored
that we shelve
reduced to a man living
for nature

that a keyboard
could never tell

that carried
out the operation

the national security
team saying
i love you so much
that there’s almost
no chance i’d use you
as a human shield
against a navy seals attack

i’ll talk to you for now
i’ll reach out
but not think about the
pavement vs. us

i’ll spell
check your name
and change it to
what is suggested

i will
try to figure out something
on my own
to impress this other thing
i will read tutorials


anything that is said
is a mistress
confusing her wrist
for a clutch
you can slide into
and click ‘save as’

recently i’ve disappeared
to face time
to what used to be called cliché

that is now called
or platform


there’s no thing
i can’t think
it’s all good
so far
in a few moments there
would be dreams
to ask also
to disappear
this conference
call that is happening
seen through
a make-out
i’ve got like five minutes
i don’t look at you
i am an executive


we plug surety
it’s your eyes
so sick
what is pushed at
and what is resizable
in my dream
i think that we need
a large file to preserve
that is a skill that
i think you blast
you baby
you parallel
your eyes are
nothing universes
full of no beauty
and beauty
and tall boys
and christ
and aggression
and gigabytes
and gigabytes


the operation continued
freelance dotted liners
mark up a graveyard
a collection of motion
like badly streaming videos

this table top is not
made for eating
it is for cutting into things
halfway to see
if they are done enough
or if not
then to set them aside
so they can run back
east and engage their
they can build more or
they can stay

precision is
when you shoot down
a helicopter
with your body
or assess a room
in a dream
counting the number
of teeth spilled across your
wooden floor
thousands of them
there must be thousands of them
Posted 05/18/11
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