Wednesday, March 24, 2010

i have swept the face of the earth clean (oil on canvas)

this is not really a test

(it's only a hawaiian suggestion)

They've removed the spine clips

The duodenum and i think

Someone shit themselves in the bunk

The gay guys struggle down the street

their sperm tastes like wavy cake

Potatoes reign down from the roof tops

I'm getting my ass kicked out here

There's an awful potato in my mouth

The offal is brown and you are dream

The Vaseline walls of the Houston

International airport stick with you with your

Smash stick loaded with electric Sick

super bullets designed to Bring you

that much closer to death Make you

so much less alive and super dead

All I see are the tits of the world

a Dreamy sea of boobs

an ocean of opportunity

Saturday, March 13, 2010

self portrait (airbrush acrylic on bedsheet)

the opening band

Ra ra riot

Took over the dressing room

Before we got there

All of my age came over me

A mountain of lost battles

A thousand defeats

The cool kids in school

I was never one and even

After when I had a chance to change

That. To hollow the rules

Wear the clothes and cut my hair

And play the part I refused

I picked the side no one was on

And here I was so afraid of

Not getting picked again. Had

Them kicked out and listened

To their myspace page

Condemning their music

Which wasn't bad

The cello player was so beautiful

And I am so old

And no one will come to see

Me except for people I despise

And now

I'm in the van under a building

Inside the ocean


Having brushed its teeth. My heart, its

red lips covered with colgate

Licks the blood off the floor

Of its cage

Thursday, March 11, 2010

face (ball point pen on newspaper)

night meeting

i have built a mountain

says B to A as lightning

or sparks shoot from the

spoon that she uses to

lift food into her mouth

i own many mountains

replies A to B as she splices

together a smile teeth flying

there is a frank exchange of

blows, a kettle drum duet

lot's of people die full of music

screams A into the white light

i will not be one of those people

proclamates B standing

in the exploding room

Sunday, March 7, 2010

man (intaglio copper plate ething on paper)

i've married worse

and though the road looked closed

they forged ahead norselike

the banker, businessman and hairdresser

without clothes or hope of survival

they tied chairs to their open sores

and continued into the mist

while no one in the room made

even so much as an odd gesture

suddenly the ocean filled with gold

and beer bladders and a dull blue glow

filled up the sky from below

the channel would remain

unchanged for years to come, then

well endowed firefighters were seen

crowding the open freeway yelling

'i'm so clean now' into their tupperware

microphones. the dull baritone of

voices dreaming out into the forest

wind. and

the gringos with their loop earings

and fancy table manners smashing

the green glass of forgetfullness

remembering only the passing of time

and even then only vaguely until

suddenly they were old and useless

and without hair or hope

i heard you call his name in a british

accent. i heard how you'd fallen

in love unknowingly unwisely

until one day everything

finally came to a crashing

heart wrenching ending

Thursday, March 4, 2010

the wrestler smokes a stoggy (graphite on watercolor paper)

the tampon moon fires up a joint

wow, what a great system

it's fucking retarded

i've never been to_____ but

it happened before we started dating

we had to go to two liquor stores

did you

it's a different number now

he's always a little late

jessica randal took a shit in

front of everyone at that party

on the floor of the living room

she was sleep-shitting

i guess i agree that

maybe god shouldn't destroy

everyone and everything

before too long

america the beautiful (intaglio copper plate etching on paper)

the grey ray at the end of the death cave

your face is covered

with the moon's blood

i see a grey ray

at the end of the death cave

i faked my own life

drawing a dream on

the dying skin

i was bound and born in

i pooled the talent scouts

for information on 'the green grass'

i see a grey ray

at the end of the death cave

i'm living in las vegas

my name is unimportant

but people sometimes

call me funkadunk

i check the sheets for poop

they are clean

i see a grey ray

at the end of the death cave

a jealous god (pen and ink on illustration board)

Dear Fu Manchu,

I'm dictating this letter to my daughter

as i no longer have the use of my arms

or hands with which to write you this letter with.

I just want you to know that i don't have

hard feelings about what did or didn't happen

late last night after the dinner party at your bagoda.

I still have some of my teeth left and for

that i am grateful.


B. Wilderment

Monday, March 1, 2010

the cost of living (pen and ink on paper)

battle rap saves city

we suddenly found ourselves

in b-town

where urine flows like wild rap

biodiesel yellow, tropical panic

the pool: an unknown hockney

one good thing about b-town

when it hits you you've got trenchmouth

hit me with trenchmouth

soak me with your poetry in motion

science me with portable blinding

we got out as fast as we could of course

drinking the drowning down

a silver charity of moonlight upon

the fried center of the earth along

the great lakes of middle age

the consequence master (pen and ink on paper)

reg rats

i knew i should have

left a rainbow inside

your wife instead of

an army of ghosts

i knew i should have

eaten the airplane

before it fell in the lake

ruining it's delicate flavor

i knew they should have

given your jesus roses

instead of planting an orange

tree on his soft brown back

i knew i shouldn't have

worn a salt coat

but it was after all

my birthday

a leather rag (intaglio copper plate etching on paper)


beside tom waits'

body of work

upon his heart's


he mounted her

next to a sailor's


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