I am throwing ash trays

I am throwing ash trays
onto cheap canvas
I purchased used
From a friend of a friend
who lives in his friend’s mom’s basement

Not only do I write poems
I make art with actual stuff man
I break the ashtray into a single point
Launch it like a baseball
On the square
and it becomes sticky
Like omission
Not quite lies but half truths
Just secrets really
that spread like a bloodied glass web

A cigarette burn point on a canvas
that has already been covered
with a frightening attempt at the Mona Lisa

The friend of a friend is in his mind
A high businessman
An artist among conmen
More worthy than the originals

No one can ever say again
that I don’t tell them
I threw it right out smack
in the middle of Mona’s smile
so it looks like her mouth is a bunker
of broken teeth that along swallowed
charcoal kisses
And only she,
not the dead men that kissed her,

It is enough to disturb me,
but not to satisfy me

If she could speak
mouth spilling with clothed blood
She would say
Well that was uncalled for
And we’d laugh like old friends
already in ecstasy


There is my pet under water

There is my pet under water
Swimming not permitted

My soul is only half wet
The rest long limbs
Hips used to balls of feet pressing
hard and steady

The shallow end is black
And rich with blood
That I expelled
During my last visit

I’ve got quite the trick now
I don’t try to catch the bastard

I just shake my head
And coo
Now not as nicely

They told me
Only drowned souls
ever surface

Out to shore they bring them
Their lungless bodies heaving
A blue face staring at me
In recognition

There is my pet
Going downstream
Instead of upstream
Catching water
In the ears

One shake and the world
is the-what? The oyster?
Two shakes
And the season of mermaids
is alive

I watch several
Rip off sanguine limbs
One by one
Until the water is the healer
A holy spring
Made of the sweetest little boy

I’ll listen to the sound
Of the drift and slap
Eternal recall standing still

There is my pet
Turned to myth
Only hooked once

I got all the old horror

I got all the old horror
In my jeans

Enough shades
For thirty picnics
Where we talk about Thomas
And dining
On the regular blood

Of congenital spirit
And flying
Through barbed wire

Our limbs cut
into a million pieces
And splashing
Across the hurried faces

I make paintings
with severed arms
of old friends
And share fake stories
with beauty queens

Open my fridge
And a perfect head talks
All lips should be frozen together
Only perfect eyes blinking

Once for yes
Two times for no
And a tear
for everything in between

I set no traps
Look at my card
I look like a serial killer
I’ve deceived no one

The light bulbs
turn off
in little brains
While mine dangles
Above some ice cold table
As I cut hearts
Into chests of lovers’

Mad man they call me
And yet every morning
I don the girly suit
And smile for strangers

I Am My Mother’s Child

I had you in a field while no one was looking, crimson flows
You spilled out of me and then suddenly everyone cared, whispering, who is she, what has she done. Houses built themselves, hoods falling, all faces suddenly gleaming. Look at those eyes, green like your mother, and those lips, and those hands, they’re mighty strong. Do you need help? Are you lost?

You had a nest for you made. Not by me, but by your playground and your loves, and you their love, and they welcomed you all so they could see how long you’d last, shrouded in purple leaves, and foxes delivering news of you.

I wanted to run. But I made my promise, I would stay awhile for your first breath, and your first transformation

The moment you cried I’d have to leave. I’d kiss you slowly and with thoughts of blood, and the dark dark night that would surely be your hardest test, but not the final one

No worries dear, they’re all here, a whole village, and more, the whole city-your parents, all waiting for your word: let me go, I am not one of your own

I am of the dark dark night
And my mother who in kisses and with kisses delivers her blood
I am of my father not, who never knew or will know what dark dark blood runs through me and what dark dark thoughts release me,

on to you, and all of you, seething and going not through the motions but always remembering, always severing, always the transformation

I am the silver lining faulty mantra that keeps you awake
I am the lucky star you wish upon only to have your luck never turn
Unless you know how to be at two places at once,
Like the hazy doors you enter for escape; all too familiar still
I am the blue of the last feather of That bird. I am the sin and the praise and the panic,
I am a distant island in a dream
Of every desperate despot

I am the changeling
I am the pursuit, I am what you persist for, and fear for, daring all of you; an applause. I am those eyes, and that mouth, I am the key and the lock and all that gets lost here, and there, and in every free world, for haven’t you heard, no one can last here, but in me.

I am my mother’s child
I am the dark dark night
I am the blood you give your kisses for

Eat shit and Die

So my room mate never came home
I guess he got lost on the way home
for the last time

I guess some gang got him
Or maybe that little on the side
finally got him beat up

I mean one thing’s for sure
He sure as Dumbledore’s
fashionable clothes and cool beard decoration
did not get laid

I’m sad
I really am
He was a cool guy

He always made sure
the fridge was stocked
And he cooked too

Not just for himself
He even made my bed
That kinda sounds like it rhymes
But it doesn’t

What is this sorcery!

But now I hope he never comes back
Because if he does
I’ll be in big trouble

Big, big, trouble
It’s pretty pathetic
but I’d rather him have to
Eat shit and Die
Than come home to what I’ve done and be heartbroken

I ate all his Harry Potter books
I’m sorry okay!

I just…I don’t know

I like books
And I like to eat them
I have to have them
become part of me

And before you get weird on me
just think:
I could be wanting to eat J. K. Rowling
so her genius could
become part of me
but I don’t
I just want to eat her books

But it does get worse
Much worse
Truth is: I have magical powers now

Every time I have to ahem
use the restroom
Magic pops out
And I never know what’s gonna happen

It’s like a Jumanji game
inside my asshole
And if you don’t know
what I’m talking about
You are a sad person

You’re probably thinking:
“I’m a sad person? Me? You talkin’ to me?
Well I’m the only one here. Who the fuck do you
think you’re talking to?”

My father looks like him.
Don’t worry, he’s a nice guy.

Yea, you, even though I’m the sad one
I just named something
“Eat shit and Die”

That’s all right
That’s what magic’s for
To fix things

Even though it doesn’t really fix things
The doors are always
locking and unlocking
Safe doors, car doors. hell!
Chastity belts are being unlocked

I got child protective services
knocking on my door
Priests wanna bless me
Jo’s filing a lawsuit

There are three headed dogs just chillin’ on my couch
I just used that word…
I can write shitty poems that aren’t poems
but “chillin’” is just too far dammit!

That’s not who I am!
Don’t you get it
It’s not me
I don’t shit magic spells

There are elves walkin’ around like
“Hey! You got any food, we’re starving here!
Where is your room mate?
Who’s gonna cook?”
But all I can think about is how ugly Ron got

And how before I ate all those books
I rolled around naked in them
And I got all these paper cuts

Then I licked my paper cuts
Like a wounded and loyal dog
And I cut my tongue on all the pages
I tried to eat
because I stuffed too many
in my mouth
all at once
And now I have this wonderful taste
of blood
always in my mouth
and I think I’m starting to like it

I found a note from my room mate
It said:
Off to Hogwarts sucka, it ain’t ever too late
Just follow your dreams playa
Imma be eatin a feast with the big D

PS. Eat shit and Die