
Destroying these doesn’t finish things, I can’t kill the already clouded, here, there

Destroying these doesn’t finish things, I can’t kill the already clouded, here, there

This one I’m keeping (at least for now) for me but if you want one of these please let me know, they’re the only creative thing left for me to destroy for my satisfaction

I’m demonstrating why I don’t spin all four sides of a hexjeff here though if you owned one you could spin as you like, let me know, I’ve a friend in work’s mailroom

As of now this doesn’t have a backhex so it’s not sixteen-sided yet, backhexes necessary to make the piece undisplayable


The canvas is a white event-quality plastic buffet dish, I stole a dozen from the kitchen of the conference room where the Library Board meets and big fundraisers are held (the view over the Potomac is spectacular), typed here so I’ll remember when I infrequently scroll down to remind myself that yes, what I did today I’d done before and before that too

Canvas the flimsy faux-cardboard back of a cheap paper tablet, typed here for the same reason I typed the above. I’ve completed all destruction of dead PCs’ hard drives and shredded (or put in locked shredding bins) all journals but the two (three if I count the Michigan) living ones (who knows what fate awaits their completion), hmmm, what’s left?






Egg a light bulb above pond

| How do they get there to cackle and kill | but by cackling and killing and kill you | to kill too, and you do, cackle at least | cawing for killing. Who you’d have to be | to be them you don’t have and are vermin | if not now when you can’t muck out stables, | old man. I need fill up my Subaru. | I never wanted an electric car |


Feels like the acrylic ink and/or fountain pen ink infused in clear elmer’s glue phase is fading, I desperately need to resupply and can’t be bothered to buy when four months ago they’d have been bought week’s ago, too many niggling demoralizing metaphors nagging, the above now glued back-to-back and in the paper press to bond with this below, the end product my son-in-law’s giftmas present


The post below finished, not touching it again, learn when to abandon, yo, first time I used straight watercolor in months if not year or two. I’ve discovered the longer I let the first draft cure the crisper the wet interaction between first draft second draft – curing prevents the heavier from flooding the lighter. Meanwhile:


I automatically renewed my wordpress subscription because and then my old avatar which last year after renewal disappeared now reappeared beneath my current avatar and wordpress, whose AI capitalizes the W and P five time before it believes me, fuck that, way too robust for me but I like the way it displays my shit so I’m not fucking with the avatars, amen, this is standard mix of acrylicinkglue and gouache but on a shiny piece of cardboard I found in the box of the new electric razor I need buy, above dead already, drowned, mud

6×6, acrylic ink, clear elmer’s Glue, gouache, watercolor block cardboard back

Laugh, wordpress changed dashboard, 12×12, acrylic ink infused in clear elmer’s glue, cold press, gouache
I verified the word obtain
meant what I thought it did
If I wasn’t losing language
I’d claim
language – and it’s 1035 Friday night
who the fuck is tapping at my door
this is the third time
first momcat
second neighbor cat
third the fuck is this –
gooier than gooache
I forget how to spell words now

The world we leave you?
Fuck and be happy, youngsters
Be happy and fuck

My right eye. Been enjoying and now indulging my worrying how can I date these squares if I glue them front to back and I can’t put the date, no matter how small and discreet cause the canvas spins, each hexjeff has four faces and when I write the date no matter how small and discreetly people will assume whichever way they read it is the sole orientation of the hexjeff and stop them spinning (and flipping and spinning) but *I* would like to know the month and year of something I made and despite the glut of shit posted here I don’t post everything here I like and might want to remember when I made it and with what medium, acrylic ink to words and everything between. Things will be here I want to potentially find that won’t be found at pOj or BLCKDGRD.
I resurrected Bray, deleted much of the content (it exists other places, I left just a few poems from 2010, 2011 left for visual of what was while I decide what I want going forward font, color size-wise, etc, done nothing yet), rebranded it Hexjeff ( hexheff dot blogspot dot com ), made it noxzema bottle blue, increased the size of the hexjeffs, and put it in blooger because (a) wordpress blowsso (sic), the fuck am I paying for it and now is six months or so before I need decide whether to pay for another year… but mostly (b) if I’m going to self-incriminate myself digitally while simultaneously burning all analog journals and painted squares I might as well do it on google via this chromebook
Sorry for explaining. Your mileage may vary but my trying to just say and not explain much better now than five years ago. Painting hexjeffs helps. My shitful vanity will will me to remind people from time to time of this joint, but I won’t be burying links for every post here at the other two, possibly soon to be one, places. My left eye:

Every one of them
I forget. Twenty-seven
years from now I’ll pick
up a squashed acorn
on an unrelated trail
and remember you
See what I’m reduced
to! Fucking aphorisms?
I like my anger

I glue these back to back, one object with two rotating sides (so eight awoogahexes), this is the other side of the previous awoogahex



Second full-body self-portrait glued to the back of and upside-down from the first. Three 6×6 hot-press watercolor paper, gouache, watercolor ink, ballpoint pen ink, sharpie.

Hey, see subject line
My eyes are ok, I’ll have to get yearly laser zaps if necessary to not lose more vision from glaucoma, stay on meds, he thinks I can and should avoid cataract surgery until necessary and I’m very ok with that
Roddy is in a dump off Capital View Road, he saw physical and occupational therapists Thursday and Friday and supposedly sees a speech therapist (who apparently determined whether patients might choke on the all pureed diet this dump serves and Roddy’s on it cause he *was* a choke threat when he first went to hospital, it will take the OK of another speech therapist before the dump can serve him food they can legally let him chew) He’can’t be home by himself but this dump is p(o)r(i)ison and does no one any good, if we break him out on Monday then home care will be covered up to something by insurance.
The four of us will badger him go to daycare, he won’t Everything I remember about working at Asbury as a janitor in the Dear God Let Them Die Wing came back to me, Roddy now talking about God
Of course I started Books of Jacob just to hold the book as object and book as book in hand and each because required reading and like almost every novel I start I caution myself I’m liking it too much and let’s see tomorrow but this one’s roots’ depth evident already I do not regret winning my bet against myself I would start it, I’d break the paperback spine except for that jinxing part when combined with this jinxing part jinxes exponentially
I picked another fight with borth nethesdans, this I confess a favorite obsession, much more powerful than recreational loathing of porth notomac which is half Rockville, two fifths Gaithersburg, one fifth Darnestown, they resent a new map that clusters them with Silver Springers and – here’s the outrage – Takoma Parkers
We entered east moco on Norbeck Road, MD 28, weeks ago, I wrote about MD 28 years ago, we walked the Underground Railroad Trail, trailhead where Layhill turns turns into Ednor crossing Norwood, saw *the* Sandy Spring, east moco *all* USPS-called Silver Spring, I can’t argue a moco neighborhood name east of Georgia Avenue
Books of Jonah may amaze me but I’ll not get 4/5ths of the religious allusions and references in a book that will be interrogating Torah and Koran and Bible and each’s adherents’relationships to the others, don’t get me wrong, this is a reason to read it, I hope the 5/5ths on helmetball teams and glee clubs teaches me something much smarter than dumb I am, I’ll get the part about zealotry
| Both can be true by | ||||
| common denominator | ||||
| neither of them real | ||||
| Personally I’m | ||||
| eyeing retirement, my | ||||
| complicity my | ||||
| blindness my in | ||||
| ability to STFU do you | ||||
| eleven, I seven | ||||
| We’ve done the math re | ||||
| tire who tire quicker | ||||
| of a not dire | ||||
| alarm Cassandra | ||||
| please don’t kill the canary | ||||
| please be fool and do | ||||
| whether vain or not | ||||
| keep telling the same damn joke | ||||
| Still funny to me |
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
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
I am metaphor
motherfucking clusterfuck
yodel re: or yo
My complicity
gave me this haiku
disease Just type and don’t count
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
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



Loop long in Shenandoah today w Earthgirl, first Hike hike since Memorial Day






More tagging.


I’ll call you when I de-google the blog that’s on people’s blogrolls.