4/15 Songkra Festival

Four fifteen and I don't know
how many gallons of water.
Slung with a smile.
300 Super-soaker's
make neon makeup
for the Nescafé teething

4/12 twitter poem

The crowd roared
like crowd
The mob was just that
chanting a chant
The rope craved
its braids etch in
Gravity made it far away
deeply drawn

4/10 chiang mai (twitter)

If we are all made out
of some simulator shit
How come canned
and then science
has a beard
goes ho ho ho

Chiang Mai 4/7 ( twitter )

Saying so
He mugged himself.
Make overs
the time of his life.
Frail hiding
when it gets the chance.

Chiang Mai

Statement says so.
And that's how.
Shoulders say so.
Knees tell.
Clavicle.
Knuckles.
The posters to
say so.

Nong Khai day three

Today is a slapping of a swoosh

under an oscillating dinge.

Today is a v- neck tee

dripping off trapezius.

Today is a weathering lie

following cute puppies pull.

Another Twitter poem - from Nong Khai.

The movie was upside slickery
The soda 'twas  spikery
The view dark     backwards
Reviewed like a lemony

Once again the teaching is clear
Like dust bin dreams -
dry bet soft
Wretched arrivals-
Pursed departures -
wet bet smooth
The mix is what sticky nil
profession professes gooey

Written while in Vientiane, Laos

The hum churning off my sternum

Dangling with dangers source

Several private charters

Marching to capacities evolution 

Venturing to utter precision and desire

Some sorta hot energy relaxing, absorbing grief 

Through somebody else's eyes

He held a mock

drawing

of a mock

suicide.

In his fist was their rallying

point.

Some even thought.

The foundation offers two options:

Fragments of teeth embedded in the love.

Fragments of teeth embedded in the hate.

His development was     simple

timid     dirty   unknown -

a hug trapped in a boulder.

Some hummed a squadron through his veins.

Eyes gouging to the left

            sound current

and to the right

            sound current.

A full-fledged fell swope

A werewolf before sex   sex.

All he could be certain of was motivation

All he could be certain of was motivation

that acute fear scratching the interior of his hands.

And she lurched in that car with the door that opened.

Her feet dirty and littered.

They were obviously attached

            in some way.

She yelled over:

            Ask your self a question!

Calm down!

            He said.

He lit a candle and planted it

            on his sternum.

When it got dark she used the flicker to burn

             rubbish off her feet.

There was some heavy petting.

Rubik’s Cubing in the dark.

He said:

             I want to be a drug

smuggler.

She said:

 I want to be a tyrant and

they never saw each other again.

Several days later it was

Several days later it was

reported the story

had a sad ending.

Crowds gathered revealing

strength in connections.

A crystal urn.

A diamond creation.

Flames flickering       unspoken.

Gestures given     took .

 

And the sweat pours off

the sun drenched rubbings.

Always invested yet

never   a handful.

he bible

the bible

unlike a beach resort

or a particularly skilled

   atmosphere

is black with some

  gold

writing on it

the other book

            green with old paper

  bag jacket

it seems to have brought the war home

            resenting its subordinate

   position

getting on top of the   grind

as return gift one

  re-gifted then

assaulted exposed then-

   then vanishing into

dog eared

   pages

with a wildly long haired

  language

A secret before dawn goes down by the pool.

A secret before dawn goes down by the pool.

The right hand hiding it’s lips from.

The long journey explains

with some embarrassment.

And people in business began to understand

the advantages.

Down In Kentucky there is a strong man

on a bed of nails.

Here on Myrtle avenue

(they used to call it murder)

there is no promotional shot.

Somewhere there is a black

and white photograph

that matches those kids-

that blast of water

their uncle wrenched open.

Remember that yellow smoke, the sword fights, the rock in my eye,

walking on the great wall.

As a result there are now  a great number of self published feminist magazines

such as: Busts, Moxie, Bitch and Fabula

Screaming in public.

Rolling over with their neighbors.

Poems about death

Poems about death  on the dying bed   and birds that fly belly up

If it all goes it goes

So dear dearest don’t

Sweat

Don’t stain your flesh or cleanse your pours  clean and kept

Those lovely hot sexy toxins

And now just close   your eyes

So tightly   close’n’d 

Forming hard smooth stones

And prayer that upper lip

Will feather   that

 good  weekend