Volatility

A ways away from today, you tomorrow dweller you.
don't stop to recall what the day today brought you.
This was a rainy day, now it rains.
I got phone calls from all over the world and from the past and from the future.

wait wait check your grade. what did you get?

the now now.

there is nothing there now. now.

now now, jason, don't be sad. you have done the best with what you had.
for the sand is the greenest of the fines. it takes vines and dusts them child.

A day like today was a day of volatility.

Jeff armstrong calls me.
Kj calls me
gooch calls me from Japan.

I have been up since 7am on my day off.

I have been reading Mrs. Dalloway.

I have exercised. I have called people. I have been alone. frantic. and alone.

You don't know what it to be alone and not have anything to do for yourself or anyone. It is prison. It is ungodly. it sits cold in your soul. 2 movies. a quarter of a book. endlessness. counting down the days for a vistor.

i know what vera must have felt like and I'm afraid of what will become of me.

it is as if i have had a day of what retirement is like. It's so unforgiving. heartbreaking. devastating.

I have no place to go in a city of movement.

I spent at least an hour at a starbuks in el segundo around lunch. More than a handful of strangers ran into other strangers that they knew. How can so many people knoew so many people. what are the chances. What are the chances that I can be having the same conversation with two people in a row. what will happen when I answer my phone again.

where should I go with all this time to blow? I am afraid of driving in the rain. I saw 3 people run readlights today. rain and losangeles is confusing for most, and teriffying for those observing the confused. the masses.

my culture has been growing within me. I feel yogurty. and unhappy. and like i have so much more energy than I should. My chemmical balnce is broken. seashells cover my ears, but i can only hear the sound of manhattan. of fear and isolation.

I can't hold a candle to your writing now. Not now. I'm not trying to. I am just letting go of my power. I am releasing the handle on the trolley car. I have let go of the leather strap above

my six year old head. I am floating down on the 1940s redcar
safely to the ground. safely and slowly. I record this moment of weightlessness. it's cups my joints with release.

my feet hate plastic socks. disarray.

I thee pray. I whyp my face and spell what you taste.

an alphabet soup of commerce and buys. selling your highs to the peeking ducks
clothing calls a morning wok into the suns bashful falls.
comm. erce. itching itching so hard. consuming me.

what would Mrs. C Dalloway due? a 13 dollar mistake, mind you. I say what time is in ben. I am gone again. I have lost you. readingreaderson.

that's who you are. just a little sad invention. a 3M product.

let down. spent on this mess.
you sharped tongued fool. shaping my face with your mouth and eyes. you bring those
those dark meat braced faced crys.
sad tighted little courses of delight.
what a sight. (I hurt). what a sight.

When I am Famous, When I am Dead

Readers break your eyes from the signs that you see
because as your read these words, I will again come to life.
My son, you may find this digital archive and dust it off,
you may be older than I am, at 23, when I write this.

Now Imagine what you know of your oldman at 23 at think of yourself at that age
we were about the same; I was a little bit fatter.
But the beauty of this work is that it is as if I have gone off on an expedition
into the Hymileas and that I have left a clone of myself out in the ice

Now son, you are treking through the ice and you find that clone in ice
and he is preserved, waiting to be discovered, left in pristeen condition
for you to admire, and enjoy, but never unearth.

Knowing this fact, my boy, I will try to answer all the questions that you may have for me, to the best of my 23 year-old ability.

I loved your mother more than I loved myself. You are more like her than like me and that is why I also love you more than anything.

I was once a fabulous dancer and drummer. I have never been happier than in my youth, with the heart-beat of the lord inside me, moving my body.

I talk more than I think. I can't sleep well alone. I love cereal. I do believe in God, and the idea that we are in control of knowledge far beyond our understanding.

I also betray the Lord on a daily basis, just as much as I betray myself.

Life is the space between truth and lies, between facts and fakes. the amorphus and glorious unknown that resides between our ears and in our chests.

The land warms me from my back upward and I being to melt. I am a corpse at 23, and I cannot breathe knowing that you have not read this, but if you are here, son, and you are reading this, I am alive again in you. When you looking in the mirror, you will see that face from the ice. It mirrors you as much as me. When you miss me, look to it, because that is where I reside, in you.

Now, I pray that you will know all this about me kid, but if you don't get to see the clone that has grown into and aged and died a man, you can always have the voice of the real me, frozen here. waiting to be unearthed. waiting for you.

I love you, son.

Good DAy

You know I'm feeling good when I have enough time and gumption to do a little something on here.

Woman

Girls are the cause of the movement
and the rushing and the trampling

I've learned to wait out the feeling
of certain uncertainty

can it be that the
whole world has something i can't see

I wonder if the pushing and the running
is to see my ancestry, in a window into the past

hubbling around I found that window on my own
a voyeuristic peep into the unknown

the darkness is like a tar that sticks to my mind
a virus that drips through your timeline

where the seconds and minutes and year are nothing
except for a black ash liquid, and when I see a face

it's quick to turn from a baby to a woman
to a bone blackened mass, a woman without a past

now tasking out the scope I am telling
has sights and sounds, but I'm not smelling

what it's like to be in that past little space
does it smell of rain or asphalt or devil chocolate cake?

Oh I see now. it smells of burning hair and a field of lavender
it's like burning an incense stick of the darkest blackness

the deepest darkest blackness

inside

open wide
let me come inside

i've been drifting aimlessly
for days upon the tide
a whale as white as pages read
its counsel I confide

the sky, it sheds a tear into
the mirror upon its side
the drum is hollow through and thru
the angels wings are dry, singing

open wide
your heart is hard to hide

now Lord you've taken me astray
in truth I found you lied
you've left me with these bills to pay
to swim in tears you've cried

waterspouts are nothing more
than children in the sky
the whale he spouts nears the shore
inside him, I will die.

Open wide,
let me come inside.

Carefully

Slowly I will write a short sonnet
that isn't what it seems
everything has a motion and a motive
ation
and I am the speaker
and you are the reader.
you got that.

Clearly, I have been at this before
but the knocking from the liminal is
at the door. Hello father time, what do you see
I see a girl and a dog wait up in that tree
and the sea is green and the sky is blue
but what can my father above think or do (Rather)

his honesty lies in a tunnel below
the surface of ages; the curtain of stages
I'm certain you have seen him dancing
on pages before a crowd who may be dead
but is no longer contagious

My hope is to find an angle beyond my own
and you have it, sitting in your home
with your like square of light beeming into your eyes
a little dancing girl with stockings and thighs
yes I'm there you know that its nothing but tress
in these moutains these valleys that have morbid dreams.
They sing out a night=song that daylight may steep
but queerly I know that your heart does not beep
the horn of a valley the laugh in your alley
the crouch in the cali and place to be seen

I know what your thinking, what does all this mean?
well clearly I'm back. Can you doubt what you've seen
my eyes are blue and my smile is green
and theres nothing but clean tall trees
in my sights. I tear them down with a saw and
the might of a forest that has nothing to do
with the scene of a crime that you know and
you know what I need. I need the smoke from
the trunk and the bark and the leaves
to signal for help and inject all the seeds
of fear in the eyes of american teens
"SELL out stocks" in the seams of this bean

a stock and a jack and a story
silly seattle singer dead
boy oh boy
this was what he meant
coming from my head
my head
pulling
Carefully

look look

I opened the door and I was standing on the foot
of my bead
laying facedown
and I realized that this apartment is not
a home
it's a place where I sleep alone
often
but its not a hime, I keep
my stuff
in this home
but its not that; a home.

Last night was the first night that I can remember, in a
long time where I stayed up all night. I had never really
done that before, at home. that's how I know this isn't a
home. it's more like a place where I hang my head out to
dry. a place where the 32 ounces that I will soon consume
will only be as full as the bottle when I'm down with it.

Here comes seth up the stairs. He is drunk. I am on my way.
Show I go visit him in the land of
youthful loneliness.
Does Robin Peaknoid treat you like I treat you?
Does he treat you like the art student or like the rock
you are in his rock star life? How many constellations
do you make for him. I will soon have your poster on my wall and your boyfriends
band won't have anything to do with it. Your watercolor art project of babys.
I will have a watercolor print of babies. on my wall. I'm my non-home
apartment. Seth drove home drunk. He should have called me.

look look. I am the noble one. look look.

The Future of my Life is in the Past

Dear Jason,

Hey man. I found this randomly one night after watching eddie murphy raw and I figured I would email you. it was a year ago today. have you been working out? (not as much as you should?!?) who cares man! enjoy life. I hope you are still recording music regularly. YOU LOVE IT.

If Grandma isn't still alive, you thought about her and about this. I will see her this next weekend. I have been spending tons of time recently with easterbrooks. If you remember, we were in a transition about schools and deciding. MUSIC OR ENGLISH? That was Jxx Pxxxx question for you last weekend. you will always have that man. that ability.

I'm thinking about you now. you don't have anything less that what you have now. you haven't lost anything so don't get nostalgic.
you still can't spell and you still can't sing. don't act like you can. but you are smart, understanding, kind and caring. You are capable. work hard man. and do what you love.

I can't wait for you to read this. I have the feeling this year has gone by way too fast. treat yourself right.

tell lxxxxxx that I love her.

very truly yours,

Jason

Whistle while you Work

So it's wednesday. What does that mean. Everything is powdered white
and nothing is clean. The desk is covered with bottles of protein. and I'm sick, if you know what I mean. I mean that I am dancing. I kick and spin and twirl and snap.

painting a wall with color, a hall, full of fall color. The winter's ball drops to a countdown of wonderus eyes. The twin sphere drop down along the wire, each of us. watching the light and the bright. The chaos in the morning. The burning. The years of reaction to one falling and then the other. not like our synchronized eyes. these when down in flames. The people and all of there names. washing away into Manhattan's bay.

I'm sorry to say that your reason for bringing this up as nothing more than historical, is both the cause and the solution. It's my reason for re-dressing a broken building. I hate to talk about this more than you do. It changed everyday for me since. Where I went to college, the way I dressed, the way I talked and more importantly the way I felt.

I want to be back in 1999. 14 years old. watching MTV. Knowing that people still enjoyed America.

I don't enjoy america.

Rappel Hotel

When you pick up a stray hair that is on the desk or from your shoulder and you know its not yours, the motion becomes that off removing fishing line from the center of a raw egg or starting a lawnmower on the sub-atomic level. The motion proves precision and delicacy are still bed-fellows. Clearly, this hair that I pulled of the Keyboard before I began typing this was nothing more than a stray Grey that was plucked purposely... a force of gently grace and power to a millimeters surgery. When my eyes caught this shimmering splendor on the charcoal keys, and the hairs where being plucked a second time, I felt like the machine might have adored it's gift of age on me again, as I had it.
"Thank you for returning this to me, so I can discard it again Machine. You are both my friend and a tool. But what a great tool you are. I marvel at your tooldom. You lifeless returner."

Now with this silver hair in my fingers again, its aged-wisdom seeps into my skin and I am momentarily older; smarter. That hair-juice moved from my fingers into my blood and now that blood has been in my brain for a few minutes. That blood made me write this story and the hair. it made me find all this sense in a moment. Just a single little diddie. A little (simm swap) moment. Just like that (snap). like that.

Now that we have had many moments contemplating that one, I'm sure you have noticed that your find refuge in it's reflective solitude. I mean to say that taking a moment and reflecting on it is the lightest and brightest thing we can do. It is what our dreams are made of; a real-time reflection. We have been reviewing and replaying the tape of seconds over a few times, and each time that tape become richer. Why? the color and shade we put into the detail. I didn't tell you how and where I place this hair when I was done holding it. Of course not. We all know how to remove a single strand of hair from any object that should remain hairless. You just throw it aside, like a feather. Clearly, this moment was more important than that. This hair is gray and I am young and I held it, twice. Its powers transcended my spirit and penetrated my mind,p making me write this awful mess. A mess that could be sorted out with a comb. I would much rather have you take it apart with your fingers; every minute strand.

Poughkeepsie

So I'm about to type in the url.
craigslist.com
tranfers in a nano-second to craigslist.org
losangeles.craigslist.org
I go to US states and click New York (well I clicked the city first and then hit back)
albany
binghamton
buffalo
catskills
chautauqua
elmira-corning
hudson valley
ithaca
long island
new york city
plattsburgh-adirondacks
rochester
syracuse
utica
watertown

these are my selections.

I open a new tab and google search "Poughkeepise in what county"
I find the "City of Poughkeepsie" website. It must be from '97.
It's hideous. Scrolling new feeds that are unreadable. options: the county or the city.
i click the county (well I haven't yet but I will now) Damn
it doesn't say county. it say Community. mmmmmfffhaa. ok
closed. back to Craigslist. I will just figure it out from a map or something. google maps.
OK it's not close to anything really. Its right between Albany and NYC. Lets try Albany....
well there are about 30 posts..... only one a day for the past few weeks. That means it's not the main source.
back to google. Hudson Valley and Albany and newyork and NYCT. wow. impossible. keep on.
Hudson Valley is the first try and the winner. Click Real Estate.

$369000 charming 2002 colonial on one semi-private acre (Poughkeepsie) (map)

Reply to: hous-737640945@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-06-30, 9:05AM EDT


This charming colonial on a low traffic street in the Hyde Park district is just waiting for you to call it home. This home, which is absolutely immaculate, could not be built for this price today and it was only built in 2002. City amenities with country ambiance is perhaps the best way to describe this colonial. Large eat in kitchen with breakfast nook and first floor family room that open to the deck which overlooks the private backyard. The second level contains the four bedrooms and the laundry. Each bedroom is meticulously decorated, light, bright and airy. You will think you have entered a fairy tale. This home at this price won't last long.
Margo Ramsey at R. Ferris real estate, LLC
1177 Route 55
Lagrangeville, NY 845-416-4004

this was the house with the attic in my mind.

The picture is of a white two story home with the doorway in the center and an A frame entrance. Each side of the door (consisting of house and windows) is perfectly equal. 4 windows on each side 2x2 with a window above the A frame porch entry way. nothing but forrest behind. no leaves. just twigs that are 30 feet high. the shutters and the roof are a maching off-royal blue.

I own this house in my mind. A millionaire in Poughkeepsie. and time stood still.

Tap

I tap my forhead with two
fingers together. To clear out the
dustmites like a bee-bee
gun to an attic at the top of
the empire state.
Somewhere near Albany
or pookipc. I need
to tap harder to spell. Poukipsee.
Pukipsea. something like that.
now this house with the loft with the bugs
has Queen Anne windows and large french doors
a large statue of a Native American man
who's feet are covered with rabbit and snow.
Now this injun races the shadow of the sundial
the winter shadow to
post within the month and
clean out the cobbwebbs in his attic head
he can't spell Jenkins.
Can he

Facade Fire

The Movie Studio is burning
the sting and back to the future
have no place now
they are gone
nothing is contained
even the tapes are burning
the vaults are burning
this is my culture
and it will be nothing fuctional
the shell-case has melted
and we have nothing but ashes o fstrings and wire
that keep this wood frame in place

the great attraction to California
burns. los angeles. burns.

places that exist in everyones subconscious has been preserved the same for so many years, and they are now dezstoryed.

as I stare into the blue of my miller lite can, I am paralyzed. should I be at sympathy to this event. did God plan to take this all away, or am I the fool? am I the fool?

Down by the Water

Down by the Water the Dog drank good. Me and you were there girl.
Man, I remember that dog after his drinking, down over there. We were there.
So the sun and the girl and the dog and the water. and me. What good times. I little bit of God was ther, down by the water. by the water's edge. Man, he ate that good dog with a spirit. I mean he ate that spirit of the dog. and spat it right back out into the dog. cleaned him right out Man. He was a new dog. a good dog. well, I guess a gooder dog. God Man, and we saw it all happen, down there. You were the girl. An dthe dog had water inside him, and was changed up from down there, by that water. Cat's got nothing on that. you know man. I mean God, right. what a dog. What a great little golden dog, that dog. I mean man, God.

Then, right there, the dog lifted right up off the ground. And the Man and the Girl, by the water saw the dog fly. what a good dog. what a good day God had given them. No snakes, no fruit, no money, no eyes. Just a flying dog. I mean God, what a sight.

Oh How Fine

Hello.

I'm writing to you from the back of a postcard that on the front has a watercolor of
a waterfall in Scotland. A great many rapids. where truth and fiction
and dream and real has disappeared.
Where you are still at home with you beauty
and you back-brace embracing my heart.
I am simple in this moment.
I remember now that I told you that I wanted the print
the print in the guest bedroom.
I know where it will go, in my room.
It will hang above my bed.
I will be shipped to me.
You will always be with me in the monograph
of the city of Edinburgh. In the joy,
of a time spent in a city.
It's impossible to imagine what it would be like without you
but now I know. That I will never get these words to you, but you know I can write them
you know what I am worth. But what do I know?

I am writing clearly to you from your own stationary.
I am in your office. in your room.
on your laptop with the red ball for a mouse
and the picture that you have of Lindsey and I
that I gave you, is looking over my shoulder.
Pictures are curses, and my memory of you is a blessing.
I will keep it longer than that picture will last.
All of the pcitures in all of the frames. IThey will go
fast. I will go. We will.

The Kitten-Sleep Chronicles: Part I

the sun orange peels away
into the night blue stars sky
and say goodnight to the little kitten

The kitten smiles back into the sun's eye
and meows a faint little word
of goodnight her friend. a happy sun's
days work is done. toothy grin.

Now as the sun rolls over
and slips into slumber
the cat stares up at the stars
and begins to wonder

Meowing away at the sky
the kitten sings out and says
"how far you are away, Mr. Star!
What put you up that far?"

And the stars sung back
"Little Kitten your questions are important
to us, but we can not answer you without a fuss
so sleep now and think not how far we are away,
come back and ask us during the day."

The kittens little song made her quite sleepy
and she began to dream of what the stars sang sweetly.
Of there lights and there patterns and there distance away
she could not wait to ask them about it the very next day.

But the Kitten slept so well underneath an apple tree
that she slept all the next day, into the night you see
and when she opened her eyes she thought she was dreaming
because the stars were still out singing bright and gleaming

they sang "Little Kitten, you did not take our advice,
you snoozed all through the day, which must have been quite nice
but you did not ask us how we got up this far,
you see during the day, that's when you ask us stars"

So Little Kitten was determined to stay up all night,
and ask the stars jsut after the morning light,
about what made them so close yet so far away,
but wouldn't you know it, she slept just before the break of day

Now Little Kitten awoke in the afternoon you see,
because of a bonk on the head from an apple in the tree.
the Orange sun was still up peeling away,
and she gazed high in the sky near the end of this day

And as she looked up she realized to her own dismay
that there were no stars singing from that place far away
The light was covering them so no one could see
there beautiful dancing and singing was nowhere to be

The Little Kitten thought, "what a trick they have played!
The stars knew they wouldn't be out that very next day,
or any day after that, it was plan to see." The Kitten
said angrily under the apple tree.

But as the orange sun peeled another day away
the kitten's anger left her, and soon she felt ok
because she remembered the stars sang to her
that put her to sleep and smoothed down her fur.

And as the little Kitten began to nod off the sleep
the stars came out again, and the Kitten did not peep
because the beauty of there singing made her heart feel full and deep
and the little Kitten underneath the tree dreampt all night
fast asleep.

Sick Day

Coughing clefts fcLhem
courtesy of the Capital
Recording a new map of all
the spat flatfaced topography

space

creating a new lap dogs appraisal
God were are like dazed all the time
fuzz face nobbed and graced
aghast to the waste man's land.

space

and time for the new plan
a new race toward the ends place
acing a joker and kinging the taste
he and I were third base born

space

between trees and roots and coughs and suits
and cards that chase a light of hope
that pace a streaming dance
that dance with the hot lights
and the long nights for singles
here's your chance to break the steam
with a cold coughing shout, you know what I mean
that mental map, that early advance,
a showered stripping
innocent dance
that stays extraneous to all of our bad
from all of our wanting mercy-lust crying out
"give breath to the cold light,
for once, do make it pure, right."

now lets chase and chase and chase

Good Times, Buenos Aires

Craving a cradle carved from sand
and wood and stone. Past sand blast a back
storied relaxtion. Stallions Gelldings and Meres. oh
my.
We have meat and cheese holy mole.
I didn't like sausage, yeah.I had three helpings of salad
the whole meal was wonderful. Full of wonder.
wonder wonder wonderful. If he was a little taller, then you would look
like Harrison Ford. Man he is so young on the front cover.
he is totally Harrison ford. The horses.
thats a lot of work.
I don't think he did it all himself.
Dad, you like the heal?
wash your hands and take a look at it.
is there hot water to wash my hands in?
yeah there is.
my back is starting to hurt from sitting on the bed.
what are you saying dad?
that salami and the cheese are delicious.
The only thing I would have changed,
is that I wouldn't have laughed at your sistuation on the pony.
I know that it was upsetting to you.
no it wasn't. It wasn't upsetting at all.
I'm sorry I laughed at you so much.
It good when you can laugh at yourself.
It's good though.
Still, he is still having a hard time.
cough cough.
spit it out!
Slapstick is a perfect example.
Wait I said that, I am part of this thing.
Im glad that antionio Bandressas was there to save you.

I'm sucked into the convo. I'm gone.

Vocabulary

I am out of it. It's so necessary to dig into my library
or Vocabulary.
The role of the woman is to treat a man like a hero.
like a hero!
I am not small enough to believe that.
I will never be
I am a strong woman that craves
a strong partner!
I am an Angry man that must have
a furious partner
I don't want a ragdoll,
I need a partner.
You are a fool to think that
the individual trumps the mass
I will not exploit, because
then I am exploited
I will not defeat
for then I am defeated
I will not belittle
for I will be destroyed
by ideology!

This is the time to get angry at how other are being treated
at our expense.

Get angry, partner, GET ANGRY!

you make the mistakes

that your parents made
you make them all even when you know them
the shit in the way is always ready
to be stepped in
find the realtime on a keyboard that lags
Lag away you hag
you old woman who's jaw moves more then is should
and can;t cut her toe nails
because of there chalkboard fetishism
girl wants nothing more than love
but it's been distorted into shapes
that hate self
and forty pounds

you are a sweet sad thing
a thing
not a man
but a thing
an object

an outside thing

hearts beat four drums
alchemy on internal
passions' fruit
stop the salad
and the good eats
stop the taco bell
stop the felling sick
stop the hell
stop the graceless worries of
life. of l eye F

of life

my mind

Whats my probelm. I can open up
tonight. I need to forget what I thought I knew about
writing and let it all haaang out.
shalng wang fang out.
skylights twilight.
tonight I fight a sleeping droned quiet.
fright fight sight...
kite?

in the sky like a dancing carousel.
a simple relationship between wind and plastic pulled across wood or
more plastic. and string
must have string.

I would attach onethousand and sixfourthee nine kites to a lamp post
to the top, so that the string and your line of sight would align.

My queen. My lesbian queen. the white and black haired queen.

just outside your office.

just outside your reach.

just outside the window and the phonelines and the cloads

I would dunk the kites in vats of colors
to paint the air and the planes and the breeze
the gasoline and the sound of eves
the drip drang drumble in your face
and it would paint your makeup right off
it would make us all the same

just like my ancestors, I will make us all the same.

so come outside my queen
and see what a colorful world it will be.

Ode to the Present

Ayn Rand.
Talk to me from your grave.
tell me why we are. how you
lit a fire of pages
you are nothing but a referent
a placeholder for young white educated
menboys
to shed light on a lite version of
the present
I want your calorie-free
present.
let me shrug my problems off.
smile with me girl.

free me from tomorrow. I mean.
It's only a day away. Right Ms.

Hot chip salt
covered cakes
sings a glass-bowled ring

wait. I got an idea that might be gone.

Singing bowls are something more then they aren't.
They define the sound they are making in two ways.
in two ways.

but I can;t remember what I just forgot
and thought I knew I could tie in

now Aynie girl. Your not alone.
Just sing with your other girls
in the orphanage. I mean we all know
that you are just on stage. but we still
feel for you. and your devote Broadway
of worship.

Mexican to Market

We are the Mexican to Market
the ones who stand in the strip malls in the morning
waiting for work
the ones witht the sideburns who talk talk
when they bring the water at a restruant
cold sliver cubes
we are the ones who jump when you say
higher
hire me for the day or by the hour
hire a man who needs work before a shower
smell the day on me the way
you cry
when you see my face, think about it
before the morning
mourning a land that was ours
looking out into a place that is foreign
little boxes on the hillside
little boxes made of nothing
and they all look the same.

We went to the University of breaking our backs for you
we went to the school of bleeding our children for you.
we went fast, and far, and close and cold and alone
for you.
for U
4 U
$

March, Wall Pee Up

sun, no water, rocks
red rocks, grass and mud and rocks,
no rain, no water
sun's sun heat rays
short eyes long days
say son what gaze
my way.
sheeping
soles the shoes
souls the cups
cold, but no water.
daughter. Sun.

a white straight man

Rocking from side to side.
Like Bill Gates, but not as smart.
I autisticly sway
Maybe I look more like Stevie.
SmIling.

Thats who I am.
A White Straight Man.
a Sad demographic. a blip.
Just a blip.
In fact, if you are reading this.
And I am dead.
I am still a blip. blip. blip.

I will never be published.
But not for why you think.
I mean if your white, you think,
Jason wasn't published because of what He is.
And if your not white,
You'll think Jason haven't been published because I'm
not smart enough or interesting enough.

I would have to agree with you.
every other published author
in that fat textbook you have
is white
straight
male.

I don't need a voice today.
Honestly, I'm not for the canon.

the Cat in the Custard Cup

Cold coughs harbor morning lights
nights affairs turn into daylight
predawn smell on pacific air

fruitless cares wanting
chicago for fifty
years. cents. swiftly dense.
dent the mind's eye
poke my middle forehead

shed skins red Nanjing
spell smelt salmon run
"the ocean, Sir."

What

"The Ocean. The surface, Sir. Seals surf face on waves
dolphining, Sir. Face the West. Pelican
dance late moonlight, predawn. Smell that heir.
Sirens on the pacific; these birds vee cuts."

black
purple
green
blue/orange
red
white
blue
bright
sun

tears taste truths burden
on icy eyes.
But God says
"I see I's in the
crowded station."

(metro racing)

code for JMW Turn her
on to me. but she sings
a Pelican song. that's so long.
that is oh
oh
Oh SO
long.

wash wax wain facts
main sheet jib sheet
shit winds turn
rope hand blood
knot rips
sips not
grace
songs
endless
morning.

The Devil Beats his Wife

[back. my back.
picture a black and white.
I am falling back first.
my feet are in the air.
I am an inch off the ground,
like a twelve story blur.

this is a large picture that is heavy
and my hands are in the air trying to catch
this black and white mess before it falls.
the angle is wrong and it breaks into
615243 pieces.]

Blue Collar, Red Skin.
The choices that we make
determine how we fit in
to the scheme of the world's faults,
we know in our hearts,
that someday everything will be
taken away.

I gets off work at eight.
and drinks before I tuck in,
my children, it's the only time
I sees them during my life.

So I want to have a chance
to pass on the way I see
existence to my kids.
to find out that no one wins.

So i left my daughter in the basement
and i left my son at home
I left my wife at the alter
but I don't feel alone

"now son you have a choice,
to save sis or your life
I know you'll make the right one
but this decision will have a price."


I left my daughter in the basement
and I locked my son with keys
handed him the spare,
with no access on his knees

to his sisters door and his own
and he cannot reach the phone
to call God and say

"let me in the door
for I have been a good boy
and if you won't spare my life
at least save my sister's

for her joy will out live
my agnostic pursuit."

Winds

You are nothing and everything. Both the whole and the absence.
the light and the dark. at once.
the movement of things. Animating lifeless objects.
the things of the past coming back to life.
I didn't remember you were there leaf.
but now your not.
now you are dancing in a current of invisibility.
Showing the only signs of it's exsistence with your movement.

Like heat or cold or pain.
you are nothing but redefining the thing you are effecting.
your definition depends on others. you are nothing without everything else.
A windy world of nothing but land would be just a world.
the same world covered in trees dances and move like a crowd of chaos
on the ballroom of life, in a mathematic waltz, where everyone bends and dips together. I have not yet seen your face, but

your partner dips you deeply toward my foxtroting group. and I see you
upsidedown
for a moment.
A moment of eye contact, where
you turn from a spruce, to a seqouia, then a willow
in that moment. and all I can think.

is that the wind has made this.
Made this everything out of nothing.
and I am gracious. I am
so gracious to the almighty
effector.

Your Missing a Fingernail

I sit
in front of a hardly used Mac apple comp
uter
and within 10 feet are original
andy warhols
can you believe that
thousands upon thousands
In a house
in an apt
in mayfair
in London.

and you and you
have it all
except