Stories from Many Realms

Cool art projects done by insufferable people

Indecipherable verse written by meticulous people

Bad song lyrics about opulence

Trance-inducing TV shows about cops, firemen, lawyers, doctors

Podcasts about podcasts about other podcasts done in

dim light with energy drinks, weed sometimes

Panicked dreams about inability, inaction

Losers

we lose jobs

we can't sleep

the moon expands and contracts

like a baseball hit by a bat

flying into the stands

then played in reverse

hurtling back toward the plate

medications quell mental storms

and produce new symptoms

weed is smoked or chewed

we feel anxious

a night caterpillar crawls on a branch

we see it beneath a flood light

calmly eating a leaf

water in the potholes

vaguely reflecting stars

Climate Summer 2023: Fans, Shit

 

Love in Late Capitalism

 

I love you unproductively

In sloth

In slack

For no reason

For no purpose

Loving you will not

Make us richer

Or more important

I love you the sun rises

Grasshoppers hop

Sea lions roar

(Do sea lions roar?)

The shadow of the clock

In the city square

Expands and recedes

Throughout the day

Not here

(I must picture a De Chirico painting

To see this)

We do not have

City squares or plazas

But lines of cars

That project no shadows

Only waves of heat & sound

As they move toward

Something distant

Painting by Anni Albers

Belly-Propelled

 

The revolution will be quiet & slow

Happens in decay & coalescing

A guitar string breaking

New instrument is formed

New songs are played

The revolution is slow & quiet

Beach waves breaking on the sand

People crying in the switchgrass

On the dunes among the lost creatures

The revolution is abandonment

Wildflowers overtaking

Derelict parking lots

The harvest moon seen through

The windmill blades On a mini-golf course

A baby snake swivels

Out of the tin cup hole

A crease on his belly Where it attached

To his mother

Inside her he was egg-held

He came out of her

Moving already, belly-propelled

Swiftly upon the fake grass

(for Patrick Farnsworth & Seán Pádraig O'Donoghue)

A Good Truck to Spit On

 

Donkey shit blue

Tinted windows

Size of a tug boat

Sticker on the back window -

Outline of the US

Written across the 48

FUCK OFF

WE'RE FULL

The saliva shone opaque

Across the hood

Like the nickel-colored eyes

Of a dying god

In the sun setting

Over Roosevelt Ave.