The network censors have pixelated your heart chakra
and placed a thick black stripe over your third eye.Agent Smith bats dangle from the inside of your skull, saying
"You are finite, Mister Anderson,
and the world is exactly as it seems."Milky-eyed smog clones form long lines waiting
Okay, fine then.
Pretend that you don't see the the flower in my hair
or the fact that I am wearing my favorite tutu.
I will pretend that I don't notice the tired sadness behind your chipper greeting
and the tattooed Leonard Cohen lyrics that are peeking out your
Some babies come squirting out of their mothers
and dress up like preachers and gurus.
"Follow me," say the babies.
"I know what's going on."Some babies dress up like soldiers
and learn how to kill other babies for crude oil.Other babies dress up like addicts, saying
"I just got here
In the suburbs they build fences and mow lawns
and do bestial things to each other behind closed doors
and behind closed lips.Jam-faced children press buttons and scream at blaring screens
while wives surrender to unwashed husbands with horrible hands
and then carve off pieces of themselves in the
I marvel at the way elderly couples can walk together with such delicateness that it's like they're holding the fate of the world in their hands, even though they know their connection is about to end.I marvel at the tiny salty thunderstorm of miso in
First there was nothing, then there was everything, because nothing was really, really boring. Nothing was so boring that it created everything just to have something to look at.
Stardust grew mouths and genitalia and it’s been a hot screaming mess ever since. DNA squirts across
You have got to be out of your mind.
You’ve got to be crazy enough to slap aside the hand that is offering you the Kool-Aid.
You’ve got to be mad enough to call it a spade when everyone else is calling it a sunflower.
You’ve got to
Scottish scientist Robert Ogilvie Crombie feared succumbing to habit and walking through life in a trance, so he devised exercises for himself which forced him to do things in an un-habitual way throughout the day like performing all tasks with a different hand.When having difficulty
I write poetry because it is much more honest than prose. To write prose I have to put on pants (ugh), squeeze into a bunch of way-too-tight opinions, load my arms with a bunch of dry, dusty Facts, and stand before you all saying "Yes,
I have gotten your attention,
either because you think I’ve got something to say,
or because you enjoy random skirmishes of poetical graffiti,
or because you clicked on some link on the internet
without really knowing what you were getting into.
It doesn’t matter.
You’re here now.
I pick up my