Thursday, December 18, 2014

The Gold Standard (wood, glass, glue, ink, paper and acrylic paint)

from the darkness

the devil owes me some onions
he was making a lasagna
one night and i gave him some
from my surplus supply

i wasn't aware that you put onions
in lasagna, but what do i know
i’m just a man who's intentions are good
a sinner who can’t stop crying

i also asked him for some things
that i’d rather not talk about in
this poem. it’s confidential.
sure i’m an artist, but not the kind

that tells you all kinds of secrets
about themselves
like i’m an excellent tambourinist
or that my urine tastes like electricity

or that my arms are doll like
and have fallen into the fire 
and that i’m writing
this sitting in a chair

in a forest 
inside a mall 
in New Mexico 
surrounded by monsters

Listening to a neverending 
loop of christmas songs
while the whole world 

slowly turns to shit

Sunday, November 2, 2014

The Happiest Moment of my Life (ink, paper, glue, acrylic paint and resin)

under your feet

i ain’t no spider
laying in a grave
waiting for the cancer
to come and clear my plate

i ain’t no liar
all filled up with gold
trying out all my answer
on anyone who will listen

i ain’t no real chemist
i just make stuff that tastes great
and puts the pants on the monkey
when no one else will

i ain’t no harlequin romance novel
i'm a real nancy drew cryer
all the time
ask my girlfriend. she’ll tell you it’s true

i ain’t no back alley deal
that you made with the italian
that didn’t turn out as badly, i guess
as it could have

i ain’t no mouse in your mouth
while you try to say your name 
to the police officer
standing beside your car

i ain’t the dish filled with bacon
ready to be enjoyed
your heart in a glass
by the stove

i am the face of the grey horizon
the receding hairline of the city
breaking under the weight of heaven

open your eyes
open your eyes

open your eyes

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

FIGHT (acrylic paint, foil stars, paper, ink and glue on wood)

among the living

I don't usually tackle the big heavy 
statements like, "an old man should 
never phone too deeply into a pole"

my brain isn't smart enough 
at this point to carry the weight 
of such a profound statement 

so instead I write things like
i see a small black bird
every time you smile at me

and then go
walking around

not barefoot

Thursday, September 25, 2014

The Bearded Giant (acrylic, paper, ink, glue on wood)

black batman

he wore the fur lined cape 
of the black bat man
into the disco 

the music so loud 
it made a perfect circle
down on the dance floor

he moved through the crowd 
like liquid snow
steam coming off his cheeks

he shook hands 
with the bartender
the black hands of desire

the place would burn to the ground
less than three weeks later
killing most of them

but tonight wasn’t made for that sort of thing
tonight wasn’t made for worrying
about a future that would never arrive

tonight was made for michelob
and benson and hedges
and hand jobs in the black

back part of the club and
whatever else the world

had to throw into our way
Phillipe (acrylic, paper, ink, glue on canvas)

writing a fantastic poem at the airport 
on your phone while waiting for your life
to be over

is not an easy thing to do
well it's really not that hard either i guess
the results vary

there's a guy on tv in a grey t-shirt 
and a baseball cap 
facing backwards

he has a beard
i assume he's a full grown man 
only posing as a small child

the ‘newscasters’ are discussing
the death of a comedienne who passed away 
unexpectedly last week

all of these people are sitting in front of microphones
they must have important things to say
i can only imagine

what am i missing
so much 'news'
all over the world

crazy shit. 
my friend tells me about a boy 
holding a severed head

he saw in the news recently
i see the boy quite clearly in my mind
he is dressed like amal from the christmas play

he has a karate kid style bandana
he's a cute kid who you'd normally see playing baseball or video games
sort of a brunette version of my own son

he’s got a gun strapped to his back
he's covered in dust and grime
he’s finally getting the attention he deserves from these lunatics 

he seems to be surrounded by
the body of the dead man unburied nearby
the corpse's flaccid penis clearly visible

but who is this dead guy?
no idea. some dude. if it was the head of the comediane
i guess the whole country would be more concerned

but it’s not. just some middle eastern looking stranger
a ghost. a prop. no one to concern myself with

here in this airport surrounded by animals

Friday, August 29, 2014

Thursday, August 28, 2014

things to do:

1. start a plastics company in brazil

2. find a spot nearby and lay in the sun for a while

3. talk to a scientist about snow and other weather phenomena

4. develop a canadian christmas band

5. eat the fruit of the mango or pineapple while sitting across tables from men of power and exquisite taste

6. lie in an old grave while shaving

7. pee like the batman

8. grow misty-eyed looking out over the great grey fields of western texas

9. really finally get started on learning how to do a great ‘deaf guy’ impression

10. when swearing the oath, tell nothing but lies lies lies

11. drive around the neighborhood in the middle of the afternoon wondering what these people are like that live in these houses. what are their lives like? what do they do when they’re alone?

12. be young and then grow old

13. warm up the ham that’s in the fridge and serve it to a blind cat

14. buy more gold

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Khrushchev (acrylic, paper, glue, wood on canvas)

oh, the things i would do

i would sing her a lullaby
in the trees at night by my house
the wolves circling hungrily below

i would make her omelets
in the kitchen while she bathed 
in the pool in the back yard

i would call her to madrid
eventually knowing the end
was just around the corner

i would build her a sunday
one saturday afternoon
the cherries covering the floor

i would let her know
what i was feeling
years after she had left

on her answering machine
the drink in my hand
falling into the carpet

Monday, July 28, 2014

3155 (paper, acrylic, glue, ink and wood)

groucho marx

i finally made it back to earth
i’d been sleeping in your hair
my heart filled with roses
my legs folded under the table
scribbling down the loose
thoughts gathered at the corners
of my face

a twig sticking out of my ear
digging deeper i found a nest
and a bowl of sparrow eggs
and a bird the color of butter
eating a loaf of bread
going on and on about 

i couldn’t stop crying
yet i did finally
and proceeded to build
a gigantic fortress out of
old tires and japanese wigs
i’d sleep there in the winter
after you’d moved to chicago


Tuesday, July 22, 2014

1644 (paper, ink, acrylic, glue on wood)

forty-niners vs the packers

although it is night
i put my face on my face
and drive into the city

my heart sleeping 
in the little bed
in the little house
god built for it

being driven
into the great darkness
in my beautiful car

fish eating my hands
and arms the blood
making bright blue snakes
in the salty sea water

you said you'd call right back
hut one hut two
forty-two fifty-five hut hut

snapping the ball
into the inside 
of your thighs
the feel of leather

i put the phone
in the bag with the rice

and hoped for the best

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

the love of god II (paper, magazines, string, acrylic paint, glue and wood)

the end of an era

we were stranded in cleveland
angie dickinson and me and the spider monkey

we’d huddle together
to stay warm most nights

the rats nibbling on our feet
the fresh venison laid out on the end tables

the flies in slow lazy circles
buzzing through the tent

she’d tell me stories of when she was starting out in the business
how she’d got her big break in ‘police woman’ 

she’d dated charles dierkop for a while
but the relationship ended in his apparent suicide

she’d always end the story with the question
‘who never dies?’ 

gazing out the hotel’s window

chewing on one of the deer legs

Friday, July 4, 2014

boom (paper, glue, wood, dan winters photo and acrylic paint)

tina turner

all the black girls
at my house
were laying on the floor
taking out their underwear
and wrapping it around
the moon

i threw my phone 
into the ocean
and tore my clothes off
catching all the rays
around my

i’ve been
peeing the entire
time i’ve been writing this
into my pants
and all over

the floor

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

black as cake (wood, acrylic, glitter, glue and paper)

sometimes it’s good to see

your name is a bowling
alley in my mouth
breaking my teeth

off into the wind.
little skydivers

their small hands
cupping the holy water
fish swimming in their depths

wearing the boots of beggars
filled with thorns

starburst wrappers
covering the living room
of my bloody mouth

while bombs explode 
in the background

the naked reporter on CNN
dipping her cheeseburger
into the BBQ sauce

quietly telling me
‘she’s loving it’

her thin hipbones exposed
she can’t be more than thirty

death a distant dream

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Easy On The Eyes (wood, paper, glue, acrylic paint and inkjet ink)

it’s hard to write a good song these days

my mind was once full of music
and melody and ideas
now it’s a forest of facts
and figures and formulas
i can still remember what it was
once like…..well, sort of
it’s only a memory
a city that floats out
onto the ocean
and is gone
but not quite 


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