.

"It wasn't long before I was one of the highest-paid slaves around." Billie Holiday

.

.

*

Dorking Around

*

.

It so happens that I am tired of being a man. No, seriously.

I am tired of sucking the dicks of the rich

I am tired of trying to reach into you

to find you are aluminum

I am tired of being poor

I'm sorry I don't have the personal resources

to get you dumbfucks out of jail

and I am tired of being sad

.

I am tired of hospitals made of margarine

I am tired of climbing over dead dolphins on the escalator

tired off the giraffes shivering in the bus-shelters

I can no longer face the cold-hot slaughterhouses called freeways

I cannot face your fierce glances

Small-talk sounds like a firing-squad now

.

Here's the big plan: we are pigs, scrambling, in an empty trough

most too scared to even squeal

I don't need videos of the twin towers collapsing

I can see that in the mirror

Haven't you noticed the common personality traits

of people who kill themselves?

How they are always more beautiful

than we are?

True revolutionaries and genuine suicides

I hope that old bastard god has enough heart left

to let us all hang in the same place

on that red train

our only palace

.

snow the president will undress the nation



The Moon Looks Down and Laughs


Frank, I'm worried about you. p.s. don't forget to take out the garbage

lady sings the blues

the way rooftops are kettles that resemble pigs are syringes

buckets of gold are bridges

all around us spirals into worthiness

the cup of glass rabbits is enveloped

by turnips dressed as policemen

the inquisitor's glance bares a question from the sun

fire-linked fences of gratitude buffalo

eyebrow-storm in nettles

river'd excretion unbuttons daylight

sky composed of serial killers

silver medallions pocket the indifference

a moor of blockaded bears

a crystal chandelier has been found by the molten lake of dreams

turquiose lips on a lightbulb

how slowly the chairs leave the room, lowering their doe-like eyes

papa is made of sugar

ten miles beneath the radar

just as every other day, the hinges of the flame have teeth

.

"In this century, we will be fighting a different kind of enemy."

.

.

.

now that the vintage birds have flown drearily away

now I am less than the wineglass I smashed earlier

now that my girlish eyes have climbed out of the fridge

now that two gardens are the same bowl of milk

all the trapeze artists with their

pink panties!

now that the storm-troopers have killed us all

now that we have seized power

now that the sole survivor is a little girl
who leads on a leash

all the wild animals of the jungle

now that you have opened your red lips and swallowed me

entirely

now that the rivers of the sky have

un-frozen

now that we know love
bangs its black wings on the window

now that the storm-troopers have killed us all

now we have seized power

.

the sticker on the base of our fallen king says made in china. perhaps by holy child labor?


*

and lo! a child is porn

One nation under one god

.

.

.

I was thinking of skipping it this year anyway

you can click once on any of these pictures to see details and read words. trust me -- its worth it!

An Open and Shut Case

found murder scene

Seattle's college district

Xmas Day, 2006

the Ave and 42nd

and the green tulips step back into the dusk

where jack the ripper buys beers for the glass-eyed boys

the engine's last sly wink

and tiny silver cars nestle in the darkened trees above me

alone like Alice

baby-pollen

dark loose change of the heart

Merry Xmas, and God Bless America