2020 November 15

Breadcrumbs, from trail to honeypot
File fingerprints cut your nose pay with knife
All discovery’s alternatives to ID you butter

photo of cow from sky meadows

sent from my iphone to protonmal
Weegeeing cameras on park ranger trucks scanned my plates anyway
but I can digitally verify if I give the fucking cops my pin I was there
or make them fuck off to the clouds

another ohpep

Weegeeing me I can or can’t stop
Verifying digitally my protonmail iphones
breadcrumbs I’m pork rinds
honeypot trail blazes

2020 November 7

I think Trump has no path since any Republican lawyer of Baker has run as far from Trump as invisibly possible

Within fifteen minutes of media’s universal thumb’s up from some shitlord four-star thumbs-upper John Kasich says Biden will trash Social Security

I’m not kidding

President Pence, I see Mike Pence on silly Too Soon To Rank So Let’s Rank 2024 Contenders, Mike Pence has one chance and it’s coming soon, just infamously pardon Trump Inc, does honorable Mike Pence do it

Small, I enjoyed our entire hike today my thoughts of the family cracker’s (in-law) and tribe

About Baker’s Paul Chowder novels: they are great but annoying Paul Chowder reminds me of me

Baker disappered from twitter month two or three ago to work on projects, please be a Chowder

Baker works like a demon on his nonfiction, reading Chowder, he works like a demon on his fiction

I youtubed sunken cathedral, I’d forget it, Baker/Chowder on Debussy, it’s love

If I give New Yorker Magazine my address I can access their safety deposit box of Franz Wright poems

President Pence, dead-ringer for John Gill (I assume you know the Kids in the Hall my pen)

Paul Chowder seldom rewrites, this gives me hope

2020 September 18

That is Jeff what I
do. Digitilized tablets
six of one, combust

able tablets half
of the other. I don’t trust
my translation tab

let to type when I
can’t read my handwriting, by
January I’ll

buy ink abandoned
next June when I don’t feel like
translating scribble

want type no edits
Wait, what, Ruth Bader Ginsberg’s
just died, diatribe

no, I’m laughing, glad
I’m not explaining why, glad
tomorrow morning

I’m not transcribing
wait what ruth bader ginsberg’s
died from ink to type

2020 April 12

Lamy’s black ink in a Lamy
fountain pen on white paper
darker than Lamy black ink
on Lighthouse’s beige bleeds
much more on Moleskine rag
scritchs more on white paper

Once I would have grunted a sestina
here. My list of apocalyptic words
BAYnull to bahNAIL exhaustive
I am sixty and new to history
happening, mine, one in nine
mes dies when poxed, my daughter

twenty-seven experiencing history
dependent on dice roll, me? Normally
I write poems in pencil to erase
for palimpsests effect, editing
never a factor. That box from work
I’m burying tomorrow, this poem goes there too