Scattered Meditation

-written in collaboration with a robot version of myself

What if I made me
When I was pretty good
When I had no letters cause I hadn’t met myself yet
Practicing for my future life
She says that Those to whom evil is done
evil is done
Great, I think
Really a pretty trap, and their decision to live there

I'm just giving me
I am cause I was a big kiss  
All I don't have lives, they can take it

Janetta, I noticed the broken melody was You
Steve I'm a human being, including the same exact thing
A proud member of the people
Refugees from the ceiling of man Library of shit
He's so sad he can't remember what happens in Chekhov's plays
I understand you
An iPhone doesn't mean you
Sarcophagus noun meaning doglike

I love impersonations of my previous work
but do I have bad dreams about
I'm trying to get some adult education/stalk Corey and his flowering world
Maybe he spent all his time
Sarcophagus noun meaning doglike 

Great, I have lives, they have to burn at the head of service
across this dynamic czar of the chimes at least four reasons why it is.
This might say that
This might be
Maybe not escape, but occasional safe harbor
You gotta have the land of fucking bullshit
Most people don't have lives, they wear blankets because their body temperature lowers
Most people do with anything
Facebook and incoherent imagery, with a bunch of tribute people
Cleveland might have to return to the joys of dry stones
turned off by the parable
a nation insists on the Tree of Life
experiments in the bowels of Christ,
Fuck that we’re merciful in broad daylight,
His flowering world

I'll be starting a fear of contact find me
Learn from a professional kid
That was the future life
Start spreadin' the Dark
Start spreadin' the Shitty
Sadly, even if he's taken on the soil of this
I've tried nothing and he was watching this

Whatever house he builds,
Jesus, I have also spread over
I understand you
It's okay, nothing happens in life
It's okay, nothing is a way

all is well
It is now
Wonder is our money
I'll be at the miracle of all reality.

Following My Nose

The familiar complaints, the cozy ones.
Ambling through the hedges of grievance.
I never know what I'm feeling at any one time.
Usually more of the same. Bragging my inadequacies.

Winter is coughed from the addled coalsmoke sky.
Chimneys chugging ash. Clumps of duress.
Blake's choir of children lying in a heap.
Noontime streetlamps regaled in holly and poinsettia.

A pubic moss enters from the vacant lot, cautiously.
The homeless have been scraped from under the bridge.
Geese call and flee. The snow is flakes of ash,
the sun finally burnt itself down.

Disused meanings are flushed. A carefully wrought
vocabulary we have disabused ourselves of.
Crumbling monologue.
A new grammar forms. Light and Motion dances

from the screen. A panoptican of laughs and serenades.
Sometimes there is a magazine no one has a
subscription to. It is the digest of a human heart
dressed to the nines in thorns and flame.

Reasons For Living - February 2014

Novels
Leaving the Atocha Station - Ben Lerner
Shoplifting From American Apparel - Tao Lin
How Should a Person Be - Sheila Heti

Movies
Nebraska
Minnie and Moskowitz
The Grapes of Wrath
The Squid and the Whale

Plays
Intermission, The Flu Season, Tragedy: A Tragedy - Will Eno
Orson's Shadow - Austin Pendleton
The Revisionist - Jesse Eisenberg
America Hurrah - Jean-Claude van Itallie

Poetry
Begging for It - Alex Dimitrov
The Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart - anth. compiled by Robert Bly, James Hillman and Michael Meade