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/radical belief in your carnival/

if there’s a time you can stop by and pick me up carry me across the fenced-in bridge that takes you over the tracks and head down morganford sandals slapping your hair all wavy at the ends the wristband with the crystal this kind of carnival starts in dark heartbeats out of a thick thing to the past where liquid takes up the grooves of a central pillar tall pillar evil pillar the barker was a wide flat rock watermade screaming on time’s axis into a circulatory system pumping dust like fleas through determined routines determined by mood determined by gravity and tidal forces i think you’ll clap to that i think the crystal wristband will keep catching the light each clap blinking blink blink blink morse code dots unaltering adding up maybe to some uncountable number like binary 1s the more claps the greater infinity gets the genius is the genius of appreciation you my friend know how to appreciate and that’s the real show the grateful dot dot dot now the lone acrobat thin and extremely coordinated turns head to you and imperceptibly nods the lone acrobat dedicates this next trick to you holding feet with hands tumbling across what looks to me from where i am like a series of power lines trailing into the distance the lone acrobat gets smaller and smaller we never found out if the trick had an end to it

—

—

/poem for the long necked bottle/

years ago i watched somebody shoot a gun into a glass windowpane the glass shattered outward the noise seemed to reflect across the glass before it shattered redoubling the noise our ears almost bursting the loudest peak of gunshot fuzzing into something sounding like dragging a heavy carpet the earth was smaller then as an effectively infinite amount of tiny meteors had yet to collide with it each forming an incredibly small impact crater that disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared falling victim to wind or water or the general shifting of little dirts as the zero-energy hum of the world that sets particles buzzing faded the craters away one by one by one until now in the present day that gun sound might still be bouncing around somewhere trapped in a hole or really high in the sky that gun might still be around in the hands of that same you or traded off in a paper doll string of hands one to one to one the gun makes its way probably not too far through the midwest it always knows the soil as heavy in clay and can smell a field nearby maybe it feels bad for what it did to the glass or maybe it has done much worse rope is made specifically and frays back into chaos unspecifically but glass like in windows and the long necked bottle breaks just about as clean as how you make it

--

--

/baby shoe in: the baby shoe panopticon/

grits teeth, spits

didn't even get to be worn

they'll throw a shoe in these days

just for being baby

shadow figure

behind the one way cylinder mirror

shadow shoe with shoe eyes on us all

and that's the trick

you never really know if you're for sale or not

--

--

/poem for the owl/

something’s different the clear night fits over a dark spot bowling pin with wings silent flaps take the owl low the stillness the warmth of this night brings people out to stoop rattling metal making work making music out their doors the owl hears music the owl gets the jist of music but only half understands the owl’s friends send the owl playlists still the owl only half understands the owl thinks is music a way to talk about the killing of mice without killing mice or is music a way to escape the resounding pounding notion that mice must be killed 1 mouse equals 1 meal 1 like equals 1 wingbeat 1 share equals the silence in the beating of that wing because in winter the owl’s wings beat silent and the world was silent and in spring the owl’s wings beat silent and the world moves so much loves so much step sounds people coo their people noises the owl wearing clear night’s jacket the owl’s beat up toyota camry hugging closed mountain course the owl’s disdain for rotting finch the owl’s pea brain clicking away in the owl’s head the owl’s fate the owl’s death in two years to some owl disease none of us have ever heard of the owl’s funeral a service full of ants flies maggots a mouse ripping hunks of not understanding poetic justice meat from the formless glob of the owl’s not understanding poetic justice body the owl had seven epiphanies in the owl’s life six of them were normal people thoughts thoughts normal people have billions of every day but the seventh epiphany is a thought no animal has ever had and no animal will ever have again it changed the owl’s life forever and the owl knew that it had

—

—

/the new last night/

our sidewalk wears boots like us

goes on dates like us

stares into the mirror like us

stay in one city long enough

and the stars will move on without you

slow-turning light-curving sons of secrets

spitting image after image burning in circles

that’s what walls are for, friend

rough concrete and heaping piles of gravel

nighttime vacant backhoe unblinking

our sidewalk city

moves from room to room like us

tastes blood like us

feels and feels

facing itself every day

and deciding

to be there

—

/the leap/

the big sky ball beats

heat heat heat

on lil squirrel me

rather large and rough tree

large rough rectangular tree

with windows

skitter skitter

taller than i am most days

but mom said tall for the best nuts

skitter skitter

ope

ope

careful careful climb mm yep

if you have to jump you have to

yep

k

here we go

the sky is windy from the bottom

it all streaks

this is probably a new emotion

called wonder i think

you really can see it all

from the fall

then:

here i am on the ground again

—

—

/mal's poem/

gotta get that mouse

gotta get that mouse

gotta get that mouse

gotta get that mouse

gotta get that mouse

gotta get that mouse

gotta get that mouse

gotta get that mouse

gotta get that mouse

--

/hellisreal.com/

listen up kids

you don't believe in hell?

i got a little story for ya

about a website

that'll tell ya otherwise

so get wise

i used to be like you

nothin' to do

but stew

fuckin' around with my friends

a bunch of dead ends

lazin

grazin on grass like sheep

asleep

we used to do it all

drugs

sex

clownin around shootin up pills

and takin spills

rainbow parties

poppin uppers and downers like smarties

jumpin off balconies for funsies

thinkin we could never die

the ultimate lie

spin the bottle but with sex

we would do that

passin around every std in the tri-county area

like malaria

orgies past midnight

bodies in motion and copious amounts of lotion

with drugs involved as well

"there aint no such thing as hell"

is what we said

what we would say

losin control

poppin pills like tootsie rolls

livin' like the livin' dead

poppin pills like airheads

eatin weed like sixlets

smoking it too

and doing cocaine

feelin' no pain

pumpin punk music and heavy metal

like butterfingers and skittles

rockin out to satan's very own words

candy

and doin' cocaine

bumpin lines

yes

and having sex all the time

then i found it

the one dot com

that dropped the bomb

on this country bumpkin

this freakjoy cowboy well let me tell you

hell is a fact

jack

and a simple visit to the web

will stick you in place

regret is real

like hell

ya feel?

--

/it takes two to laugh: my meaningful slam poem/

she said it takes two to laugh

i said two?

two is just a number

one more ball in the bingo tumbler

one more word on the lips of saints

done up on the wall with green paints

my green, /pants/

are ripping

finger slipping

finger on the trigger of the gun

(pause) ...just for fun

they say two is the number of laughter

well

what comes after?

i'll tell ya (repositions hands)

after laughter radio static

silence emphatic

three is the number of FM fuzz

the whole world is soap scuzz

the whole world is (loud) FUCKED UP

so suck it up

soap truck

and come with me to the land beyond

where politicians and magicians sleep in the pond

the land unreal

where it takes two to feel

(quiet) so let's feel

(slightly too loud) NO MORE GUFFAWS

(louder) NO MORE WAGGING JAWS

just emotion

devotion

cuz when you fuck the fucked up world

the world gives birth

to worth

and that's what i'm trying to say

thank you

--

--

/radical belief in daytime/

kitchen window

sunlight smack

light is so hard so heavy

scouring out tile white and blue white and blue

this old self-righteousness

cult laughter you drown it out

glasses pushed up into your hair you squint

out into the little yard

you regular old lighthouse

i can feel you hovering an inch off the ground

even if i can't see it

later on roger street

flash back to a ray a beam

maybe the same beam

your beam out of a bird's mouth

a bird with your eye

an eye with a way to look i can't look

maybe you can explain it to me

--

/rowen conry’s poem for love/

there’s a waist high brick wall in town

i’ve been known to stand behind

do me a favor and let me lift you over it

i was born glassy eyed

with the moon hung round my neck

i was born on ice

i was born third eye held open with cleverly constructed surgical implants

you punched me so hard i wasn’t

you look like you on a hike

there’s starling, there’s junco, wren

wow, holds hand up for shade

and there’s their nest

—

/i kick somebody in the mouth/

my truck has a trailer

my peggy boots have steel toes

my face is fucked up

pretty sure it was you that fucked it up

im going to culvers

to psychically communicate with my dead grandma

hey grams, sorry it had to be culvers

so, this fella i need you to hex

yea, uh huh

yea

folks, (readers of the poem,)

all my grandmother said to me

was that you’ve got to be real careful about sharks

she said

i recently watched a documentary

you've got to pay attention

any potential shark situation i would be watching out for fins and teeth i’d

scan the horizon

but this guy fucked up my face grams

was it around water?

no it was behind hilton hotel and suites

near the lake?

no on the other side of the highway

then nothing to worry about rowen,

i cant see why youre so gosh darn upset!

love,

granny

anyway, thats why i had to go back there and kick this guy in the mouth!

—

—

https://soundcloud.com/holy-r/green-eye-rain

--

/theme from puker/

everyone’s buying my stocks

it’s making me bloat up

i have acne for the first time in ten years

i ran away through the graveyard and sat on a playground

she and i ate and didn’t talk to each other

well, what they call a “bubble” is bursting

but into something good

retching stretches, touches

the bitterness of oh i dont know

love barfed up into the yowling howling jaws of ted’s cave

jesus christ never felt as powerful as i do now

that was his choice, he totally could have

but the difference between us is everybody’s buying my stocks and making my hair curl

over the toilet bowl

you in the other room take on form and form again

a mirror on rotating time space axis

you were sneering and laughing and smiling and crying and feeling so much in love with me and feeling oh so much else

me,

i was puking

--

https://soundcloud.com/holy-r/look-see

--

/on the bridge/

light spills flash over

long straight ruddy throughway the beam

screaming out birds and bats the walls

of the underneath crash with grrn grrn the sound

concrete brittle cracks crumbles heat smooths the edges

one little moment of silence and it peaks again

higher this time through the bright hot light see it

grumbling thrashing teeth spinning into the mud flaking

flashfire and everything red whistling up up the tracks

it's grrn grrn grrn it is grrn grrn grrn

rrg uh grr rrg uh grr hoo hoo hoo hoo

whoosing steam heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeish

pitch shifting rending into pitch unhearable circling

low now thumping knn knn knn knn twin sounds chasing

metal on metal on metal ee ee screech

in a flame watching

in steam watching the eye of machine god watching

pole flip passing now passing passing passing

fading furnace big red sun taking with it

fire, fire, fire

--

/poem for golden tooth/

are you coming to community supper?

tonight the earth comes up easy, palmfuls

burying ourselves in mountains like sand dunes

there's them and them and you

like a golden tooth

if i laugh like barking

if the river cool breeze knocks

hair out from behind your ear

my skin, dry, cracks, booms,

rain then thunder

going to sit on a log

under a branch, crashing, crashing

wind whip the world is barrels bursting

okay, so hold on by a finger, rain and sweat

hundred mile an hour dam bursting

crash crack boom

the door shuts behind us.

there is a rectangle of yellow light.

--

/poem for brittleman's hollow/

all trees look like that now

but they didn't used to

this is a big clear day

with a lot of walking space

by horse

i highly suspect

that was you that night

navigating brittleman's hollow

deftly and with confidence

back then, the leafless trees

tended to crowd

and a featurless moon

unmoving in the sky

hung

a group of frogs now gathers

in a shady spot by a drying-up puddle

hello frogs, and a good life

from me, who made the face

on the moon

--

--

/his fan theory/

his fan theory

is that all The Companies

died actually on Y2K,

the rest of our lifes is a

dream of Time Warner Industries

in the moment before death

well, i'm not doctor,

but i actually got sent

to the hospital for drinking

too much

the steth - o - scope:

it got stuck in my chest, oh the hubbub!

they gave me a gift card

i searched every hallway i did not

see Time Warner Industries anywhere

in any of the rooms

and that's another myth BUSTED

--

/poem set in a world where alice cooper is a local stl musician/

did you hear alice cooper is going on tour?

yeah, they're playing a show in kc and one in como

--

/poem for her dog/

she has she a very good girl dog

wag wag she can do a cool trick called bang! bang!

dog goes to lie down on the ground

she and i go to sit on a stump

this must be

the world's newest stump

i can still smell

the rest of the tree

it's the dog she's back!

no more being dead

here is a treat for the very good dog

--

/G's/

they took the wall higher

with a series of extended

arches of stone.

just heard

the last song on my list.

i was at the dentist getting

a tooth yanked. the song

came over the radio. i jumped

a little in my chair. "you

okay?" said the dental

assistant. with my mouth

full of fingers, i declined

to explain. i will have to

cross it off the list when

i get home.

when i am with

someone i know well, i also

know this city well. alone

on a rainy night walking my

dog, i know myself. this is

me: a large oak tree with

some exposed root. the

branches are looking a little

too high to easily climb.

there will have to be some

shimmying.

what are you going

to do? blue hand winter is

over, that is only part of

it. me, i have done a lot of

stretching. i am going to go

on a run.

--

--

/return to fish dream/

i am so so sorry oh my god

are you hurt? are you hurt?

i feel real bad about this one

all those fish squeezed up and made stew

and this stupid *whispering* absolute /dummy!/ *points at me myself*

"where's the flavor?" uh huh uh huh

straight up fish in broth, that's what me what i me brought to your table oh for sure

but no see the apology is to those fish

who i wrote about two years ago

standing with my dog by the lake outside A.T. Still University

who became psychic entangled with this dang dummy (myself):

friend, i'm telling you,

every time one of them dies out there

i get sad for a week!

--

/i'll die last/

come in talk to me

the winter trees are curling in

try on my coat

for a taste of evil

the dusk

has made my houseguests restless

kneeling waiting

(the dialogue

in a littlemade home on fairview avenue...)

you're right that yesterday

this heavy knife

down my nose and out

would be a death thing

but fortune telling

figures in, (it always figures in)

so:

a catalogue:

of this galley ship:

washed up on the shore of our lovely mississippi:

impossibly tall and just as wide:

miles and miles and miles:

blotting out the sun in the early hours:

sitting stoop on morganford

i overheard an argument

the quiet upstairs exploding into scream

shattering an antique

and oh,

you notice my scar

its recent appearance

if that's so

and we have met before

i'll ask boggs to light a candle

for our reunion

--

/the poem about how my friends are funny/

every one of my friends

is so funny

it is shocking to me still

they are comedy experts

they have so many jokes

god their minds have to be working

just about a thousand miles a minute

yeah they were probably

very funny kids

growing up and learning the ins and outs

of cadence and delivery

now these "grown ass adults"

they can really knock your socks off

every hour you remember and you laugh again

i mean frankly

it's amazing

and it keeps happening

and they'll keep doing it

they're gonna be old and funny

they're gonna have one of those cheery funerals

where everyone chuckles and wipes up a tear

and every eulogy starts with a joke

and i wear my heavy coat

in a room full of revelers

sweating and laughing

--

--

/for lewis/

there you go

it keeps tearing--

see? there!

well lewis, your ring got

fucked up in my dryer

plus it's,

still about two hundred degrees it wont cool down and it burnt like my whole arm

"oh, you don't even--

lewis is going to be PISSED

i think lewis got that ring from

somebody who went on and DIED

lewis is:

(big drama pause)

well,

lewis is going to kick a dent in your fricking effing

dryer!"

--

/for you in the porta potty/

i have or i'll say we all know

i have had so many teeth removed,

at this point,

everbody in this room has more teeth than me

you think your mouth is small?

mine is actually constricting--

constricting constantly smaller and smaller yeah they,

they... they have to remove about

two or three a year and let me tell you,

it has been a lot of years.

and to you in the porta potty:

you think restricting yourself saves you,

that removing yourself

to the smallest room society knows

gives you the smallest amount of teeth?

the world is my room.

i piss in the sky

i have so little teeth

my mouth is going real small

and i piss and shit in the sky