
2022 September 25

*
I do not suggest a philosophy | |||||||
lurks behind my painting: | |||||||
I am going blind, why | |||||||
me and colors first, I take | |||||||
my glasses off to see them | |||||||
while I can. Same with my | |||||||
poetry, which I don’t write | |||||||
anymore, no sophisticated | |||||||
epistemology implied, | |||||||
let me spare you inferring | |||||||
The more I paint the more I mute | |||||||
me, not mute, stop and wonder | |||||||
if saying obsolete now | |||||||
Full disclosure: these *are* watercolor and ink and pencil on either regular graph paper or regular watercolor paper (Arches, yes, fuck me, the block does keep the paper from warping when drying), but to capture a closer image to what they look like wet (versus what they look like dry) I scan the dried on the office scanner/printer and enhance the colors using souped-up saturation and souped-up vividness and souped-up sharpness and souped-up resolution, I don’t consider this cheating given the limited skills of the artist for anything but lines and color but think I should mention it in case *you* think it’s cheating, fine metaphors abound
Now that I sit and type
where I sit and type
I sit and type
and justify buying
more particular model
pens, my vacation
mandated ink
infatuation
timer a tick till BEEP,
I will use them at work
not sitting and typing
on screen that I sit and type
at? in? on?
Two weeks same
house not ours
too much for the two of us
who were not too much
for the two of us
for the two weeks
just the two of us
My new old cobbles
Can’t in front of anyone
Who haven’t I told
I’ve beenwriting intablet with notfountain pens
Whatever I’ve been doing to my body’s kicking in
I amthe metaphorborn nineteenfiftynine
I’mslothrup I katjup pace
Waituntil owait, there’s nountil
we are the black flies
made screened porches required
fuck your expense. welts
Periodic reminder my daughter will be my age in 2056
I stole a cooling rack from home to dry the flags I make
guaranteeing a flag won’t be made tonight, rack shamed
I am reading Diana Seuss’ *Frank* and Blake Butler’s *300,000,000*
screaming better than I can scream apocalypse at me so I won’t at you
2056, I’d be 97, laugh, my dad at 90 in fifteen days
got out what he paid into, my 42 years paid into stolen by 2026
I’d buy a ticket today to 2036 for my daughter
Haiku taught me my
raving has a safe space not
to be Our Shitlords
know your time is short
and dreary if you’re lucky
Haiku rage machine
Not working typing now and Jeff it is working my typing HERE Jeff type Jeff
Recognize if it’s stale the next day best to notpublishso publishnow once
gag gag always Already posted poemat @ pOj
DJ, the Bowie song, bleggalgaze anthem three
I didn’t type here yesterday and almost didn’t type here tonight
I disarmed impulse buying collected Jean Valentine
seizures ceased after eleventh poem library’s copy
diapered me
Fast infatuation then LOOK OVER THERE!
I void gold into shit
spit take, never
distill
If I thought my poetry ever be accepted by a big small deal I’dv’d foldered all abandoned haikus but don’t don’t but do but don’t not concession to lack of academic scaffolding laugh I know I type arrhythmic cadence as I talk This criticism and pride I forget what saying get to what new thing I say talking past new thing cause old already me voice mail whisperer lords I serve voice mail listener too re: PD hear myself talk each time I need listen, delete delete delete years since anyone talked to me. Monkeypox, huh
Not type night yet time
running out he taps Wiser
me still stops to think
instead of just typing
this counting to five focuses
abacus
me on beads for praise
Freight trains kettled in my bark
yards abbreviated
Lynn’s friend’s first ask:
So when are you retiring
She claims she knew me
Gaithersburg High School
She knows more about my life
than I know of hers
Newest theory: I
too can break kayfabe fat chance
it gets broke by me