this mountain's mouth
is heaping advice
"my future's fine."
why couldn't i trust before?
there's nothing of worry
life comes in a hurry

we've misplaced
the design of reason
we resign to carry on
don't look down on
the lives we've led
love the ones we've met

i've a neighbor
who is always walking around the playground
right next to the restaurant
i imagine him bathing in nitrate
and practicing tetherball
from my bedroom
i see him swaying by
when i fall sleep
next to the restaurant
in the playground

she sticks out her palm in a plaintive gesture
and i want to lick it
a fawn on a salt cube
and strip the opaque white polish off the
other side’s nails

she bends her neck
and lowers her head
to untie the red threaded bracelet at her wrist
first with her tongue to grab hold of the cabled strands
then with her teeth to pull the knot apart
as it is loosed, her eyes relax on the lower half of my face

has she noticed the dot of blood on my upper lip?
an ungainly shaving accident
a spot about which i’ll tell her
i wanted to show a bit of color for you
this is me showing my true self
i wasn’t able to before but i can now
this is what you’ve brought out of me
this is what i give you
so this is what we have

in this emotional hierarchy
some suffer needlessly
and that suffering is passed down and across
we are all sensitive people
and suffer shoulder-to-shoulder
yes, i let him suffer
what else could i do?
we all suffered
i was there though
present and touching
who touched me?
the most important conversation
and the most impotent
a thought that breaks you daily
an idea that you cannot resolve
the possibility that pours over you
is this
what if he was scared in the final moments
had he had the ability to move, to speak, to emote
would he have screamed? would he have thrashed in his bed?
would he have pounded his fists on his chest?
what did he feel awaited him?
a look of helpless love
not loving, helplessly
but love for one you cannot help
we shared it one last time
and i stepped out of the room
to take distance from the flames
wood burns so easily

you should be humbled to realize
the infinitely small chances
that you, as you, are here today
it is not a miracle, but mere, beautiful luck
miracles are the province of those
comfortable without knowing an explanation
not wanting to know it, even
we are not in their company
we know our fortunate lineage
we know the intersecting streams of probability
that offered the suitable circumstances for our being
we know that it is just as likely to be us as it is to be them
and we know why we're here
it's been clear since our first breath:
to capitalize on our existence
[a state of existence that is a precursor to our essence]
and fashion our essence
alone and together
we're all products of evolution
whether we accept that or not
but a long line of successes
does not mean that we can rest now
with such weighty ancestry
what can we claim as our own?
i say, nothing but our actions and their consequences
in the selection of a moment to assert agency
and the active prioritization of a direction
'now' and 'forward together' are always the best conditions
an engendered collaboration forged out of clarity of will
informed compromise
and the sobering realization that there is no other way

i keep mentioning france
and it’s bound to do me in
a crimson-colored shadow
over what i say and do
french don’t like americans, he says
then questions the patriotism
of somebody who would readily die for their country
if the cause was true and just
as a revolutionary cause must be
since it would take a cultural revolution to save this country
this is the wrong approach to take
when he, independently, is able to identify
deep problems, concerns, worries about his and our country
yet, though he’s able to neither confront or defend these issues
he is comfortable attacking those who choose to take action
to leave, to start anew in a place of honest merit and potential
as our ancestors, themselves, did
in the decision to cross an ocean
if you don’t like things, you leave
why should i be constrained by my country of birth
as if it’s a socio-cultural tether on my work and life and love
ridiculous
i will go where i choose to for reasons that only need be valid to me
my morals, my understanding of freedom
my sense of the potential future for my children unborn
our country
it’s not right, it’s not perfect, it’s not ideal
there are better choices
to deny change is to accept the socio-cultural climate as it is
that is a resignation of reality which i cannot conform to
keep traversing your elite hills, son
and we’ll talk when you’re done with your luxury runs
i’ll have the guest bedroom prepared for you

maybe we can in the garden
pretend we’re dancing
under your parasol
we can again have
custody of our affection
as we can only be generous with our own love
and we are
we shall not live in vain

it’s dead
lying alone in lithium-soaked bedding
and i’m shaking it
with my sputtering and dripping mouth, i scream
just read my last poem, please
it’s positive

saying goodnight
saying goodnight
at a doorway
walking home
immature feeble grasping attempts at love
this bathroom's hollow, vaguely floral smell captures it
and through the tile removed from the wall
i can hear
murmurs and sighs
laments
from across seas and estuaries
through foreign pipes
from there to here
this scent
belonged in our home
in the bathroom where i lost you every night
every night your fucking yankee candles
and fragranced shampoos would remind me
she's not yours
wash your face
come in your palm
and go to sleep

the oxbowing affairs
the veneration of indecision
the confused sincerity
behind most of the drastic, dispassionate mistakes
that girls make

wherever i carry you these days
it's certainly not in my heart

they stay pretty for so long
they eat salads every day
they’re comfortable wearing bikinis half of the year
is it cold?
it doesn’t matter, it’s hot.
they lie on beds
and in their heads
arrange rooms for shadowplay on their lithe bodies
candle light spectacles
why don’t you come over for a nap.
i’ll put the curtains closed just so
i can see what i want of you.
do you like these crystals hanging from the chandelier?
they’re from overseas.
they earn a place
from doing so little
we venerate their cooper’s ligaments
in blood quick poems
but doesn’t anyone realize they’re lying?
it’s a spectacle of nail polish and suggestions
something to consider for a night
then recognize your lack of enthusiasm
the following morning

new compilations

Auto-Affection -- 55MB --

1 Faunts // Feel.Love.Thinking.Of.
2 Géraldine // Enrôle toi dans mes bras
3 Thrushes // Heartbeats (The Antlers remix)
4 Foals // Electric Boom
5 Ruth // Roman Photo
6 Michna // Triple Chrome Dipped
7 Liquid Vega // Black Thunder
8 The Antlers // Two
9 Cotton Jones // Gotta Cheer Up

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

Cat Heart -- 21MB --

1 SCREENS // saturdays 4 eva
2 HEALTH // Die Slow
3 Comanechi // Death of You
4 Brutal Knights // I Wanna Die
5 A. H. Kraken // Verschwende Deine Jugend
6 Huoratron // $$ Troopers
7 Kola Kid // Contra88
8 Battletorn // Headbreaker
9 Fiasco // I Wanna Be Your Cat

looking below your tits

and your thrush of hair

it's late and you know what i'm thinking

my whistling teapot

with a reveille

still squeaks out the generation of affection

but in a thought greater than memory

i'm afraid my blood's always been too thin for you

i've been kissing your knees all week

their bruised and bloody hopelessness

it's so clinical now that i can't even taste

you must be some other sex, new to me

to bring about this waaaste of instiiinct

and precious things we can't confess

what a buffalo-sized bluff

we wrote a sad song together

and it's mine alone to sing:

if they were to say i loved you, i'd say, you're goddamn right

we had such a wonderful waste of time together

locked ourselves inside all the white lakefront winter

friends wondered where we had gone off to

and hadn't we missed all our appointments?

now every boy is the rest of your life and the end of the world

your love spawned from some simple sex fulfilled

they're only dancing dogs though

with morals rooted in emotional subsistence

they'll send packages and request that you love them

but this city was ours first

new home

zhongdian home tour from Jamon Van Den Hoek on Vimeo.

tumblr is blocked in china

so i'll be back here for a while...

my past before me
again
i want it to die
and be buried in an esteemed cemetery
in a crypt of majestic proportions
a plot where i will always remember its location
in the place that it should occupy now
but not somewhere that i pass every fucking morning on my way to work

i bike past row upon row
of cars abandoned until morning
in this back-to-the-future neighborhood
you're behind one of the houses' front doors
i know it
waiting in an apron
with your hair done
waiting to tell me
i don't love you anymore
i'm taking the kids
this has been a mistake
i'm sorry
no, i'm sorry
no, i'm sorry
as a teenager
i would have loved to have a girlfriend
in one of these houses
but now all i think about
is raising a daughter in one
it's maybe the one thing i was born to do

The ark of the covenant is under your dress, Corsica Corkridge.

around a campfire
we smell nurturing smoke
and you move in slow motion
cautious of the flames
and the knife stuck in a watermelon

atop a ziggurat reservoir
wide-eyed in the storm
we lay down on nettled grass
i know who you are
empress theodora seated in a green strip mall vinyl booth

my mouth's tongue pushing against this mountain
the waterfall inside your chest
your lipstick and a clenched fist
we all contradict the other's intent

the ark of the convenant is under your dress, corsica corkridge
i left it there

thel roundtree

thel roundtree
was a man no older than 45
no younger than 30
he felt as though he was past his prime
but his wife
loved him more with each passing day
in her mind
there was always a brighter tomorrow
thel only passively agreed
and spoke little of his dissent
he did love her
but love without challenge yields complacency
and their challenges were well in the past

ennui was tarnishing thel
everyday
the same tasks
the same meals
the same love
the same banality

their shared relationship and thel's own life
had provided less than he had hoped

childless, with no chance for a change
thel lied face-down on their bed
wrestled his frame under the bedding
bear-hugged his pillows
and dreamed of switchgrass-haired children he would never have

thel had never exerted himself as great men do
he merely met the mundane requirements of modern life
with limited interest
head down, dragging walrus feet

perhaps thel lacked the capacity for greatness
this was a troubling self-realization

the opportunities in life afforded to thel
had come through mere luck
his genes, his inherent curiosity, a childhood of relentless exploration
how could he take responsibility for any of these?
to thel, this lack of agency was a problem
as the reasons for his tame successes were not self-justifying

whether or not he could claim responsibility
it was thel's sharp mind
that brought him employment
he was an astronaut
recently charged with repairing a faulty satellite circuit board
thel was to live aboard a space station for eight days and nights
an experience he had never been offered before
but the one thing for which he had waited his entire life

this will be a turning point, thel thought
his mind shifted from dwelling on that which had left him unfulfilled
and refocused on his new adventure
(an adventure!)
he imagined the elation of lift-off
the wonderment in gazing upon the single planet holding all he knew
witnessing ancient light before anyone on earth could
thoughts like these burrowed throughout thel's mind
and wrested him from emotional despondency

on the day of his departure
thel was elated as he had never been before
his skin tingled under his confining suit
hands twitched with anticipation
knuckles were white in a fixed tension
tight waves of exhilaration surged through his limbs and chest
these moments were the first of a new beginning

lift-off
wonderment
freedom
as he had imagined

the following days were uneventful, however
and when honest with himself
thel knew he was somehow unfulfilled by the experience
he had pinned his renaissance on this sole effort
yet the revelations he had hoped for were utterly absent
he was blank
in his stomach
a vacuum
a null void without emotion

late in final day of orbit
thel put two feet, his hands, then the rest of his body into his spacesuit
opened the door leading outside the space station
secured the safety tether
descended the support ladder towards the satellite body
and began the final circuit board calibration

as soon as thel had completed the required procedure
he began his return to the station
but with each grasped ladder rung
thel felt a weight across his shoulders growing heavier
he didn't want to return
to the station
earth
his life

a calm resolve bubbled up in thel
he unclasped the safety tether from his suit
loosed his grip on the support ladder's rung
and let
go

with the satellite reflecting off of a glossed helmet
thel re-oriented himself
hurtling face-first
away towards

you whistle for progress
then kick at our shins

(in the process of moving this blog over to MASTER BATH on tumblr...)

though i never remember in the morning
you're in my dreams every night
and there you have a voice
organic and grey
you tumbleweed around our half-built home
and i stand with walrus feet on a splinter floor
shocked at your momentary improvement

i will come back to this later

XXXX X

I love you.
I always have.
It's no fun.

Winter and Morning

A NEW SELF-ASSESSMENT EXERCISE CONCERNING YOUR GENERAL SELF-AWARENESS

1. Nobody would want to date me because _________________________.
2. I'll probably just end up dying _______________ and _______________.
3. I cannot please my lover because _________________________.
4. I could never be a successful artist because _________________________.
5. My last girlfriend/boyfriend left me because I am too _________________________.
6. I cannot forgive myself for _________________________.
7. In social interactions, I am easily forgettable because _________________________.
8. I shy away from my own reflection because _________________________.
9. I always search for symbolism rather than truth because _________________________.
10. I am content to sleep with anyone because _________________________.
11. Though I am still young, I have already missed the opportunity to _________________________.
12. I am ashamed that I _________________________ last week.
13. I cannot bring myself to orgasm because _________________________.
14. I prefer to dwell on _________________________ instead of looking forward to the future.

You gush. You, cyclone. You say as I would.
Our skins shiver like ocean spray >> new rises in the fall. Your mead skinnn - I could linger on this for days - stands and ripples. My skin granitely peaks in your valleys. Gaia and Ouranos. Velcro.
You are there, present when together, though still present now. To be present, understanding, there, aware. It is enough.
I will steal memories and minutes with you more than reason would permit. I will write a poem inside of your mouth.
As of yet unnamed but as pivotal as the Carnegies and the Rockefellers, joined.
You are fire, and I am soon to burn.

arrow means kill, remember
i know it does
as that frantic laughter
grows
louder
when she notices others
are laughing along with her
like a million swinging hinges

do you want
to come with me
we'll hang our heads
we'll wring our hands

do you want
to laugh at me
i'll try again
i'll laugh too

do you want
to tell me
i will listen
and whisper back

do you want
to leave me
this place is over
i'll leave too

do you want
to kill me
please bury me
in the bitter horizon

do you want
to forget me
i'll stay here
i'll be still

if you want
to return
i'll be here
i will forget

an end of memories brings a  |  a small piece of place and
necessary lens. necessary    |  love-unseen, unknown until
means 'don't stop', and a    |  a necessary inevitable lens
lens -- a lens offers 'is'   |  looms and maybe shines
and 'was'

the word you've shared with me means 'to use'

this is an amelodic hymn
dusted with spoliated emotion

behind bookcases and
between apartments
we inter\fingers/twined
stared at seeping windows

on a pregnant couch
we sit blackly still
your eyes roll back
in private recess
a sycophant smile
hollowly ripples

the summer was made for us
though we've made it a-part
// it is selfish to have love in a world
where so many cannot //
perhaps this was the rationale at the time

when glacial urges give way
a final misstep
and the table needs setting again

god bless the beautiful

in bathrooms and among spectators' whispers
an agreement was struck
not to cross boundaries
just to chest up to them
to look them in the eye
cough and blush away

with half-concealed intentions and unnecessary entreaties
we left quickly
and without precedent
an action appropriate to the context
but not caused by it

four sour minds
four at the edge of what can be considered beautiful
children, really
but children who feel the weight of their and others' bodies

under nested sweaters
ribbons are untied
with tremblingly new fingers
stomachs detach themselves
when our line of sight is interrupted

in reflected street light
and passing headlights
birth control is vomited

pause for a return to normalcy

if that wasn't love, as she says
then there's nothing to worry about

keep ourselves clean and this, too

---------//---------

i swing on short threads

at the length of your dress

keep your lips spread

our skins meld

blood dried in the garden

blunt attempts in the apartment

that was a mistake

but it's still true

i wake up early

read characters written in rattling ink

i love yous argued

at a zebra frequency

---------//---------

Takeshi Murata

today's young men aren't asked to be alive at all
covered in latex and spit
sitting over a bowl of cereal
staring into a bathroom mirror
skinning elbows on concrete

complete overwhelm

i biked by your old house this afternoon
and imagined you opening the screen door
coming out onto the steps
with greeting arms
as if you'd forgotten the last three years
before you were professionally beautiful

i walk onto your lawn
a green that matches your sweater
kneel down to one knee
dig out a pocket of dirt
whisper your name into the ground
and cover with earth

then i biked home

i tie a teal ribbon around your forearm
tight enough so it doesn't fall off
tight enough that it leaves a mark
a line of transgression to match my own

i pull you close to me now
clasp your hands
around my crooked mitts
a cubit of affection therein

your clear coat nails
frame a lovelorn embrace
which i time by your polish's retreat
from the cuticle

now i tug us down
to the space between the curtains and the floor
we're balancing on one knee
our irises align

i rub castoreum in your hair
you dollop bear grease onto my head
we are indians on a warpath
and pass out from exhaustion on the futon

on our backs

a couple of bodies making two Ys on the ground
in different states
we can't afford the time in the morning to get ready
so julie and i went to asleep in our snowsuits
this was arranged ahead of time
and now we are here and there

our two bodies
on the snow on top of the ground
sink at the same rate
staring at the sky then the stars then again
we let our heat provide the path
over these days
through the snow
through
the dead and dying grass
the dirt and rocks and a coyote den and a water table
into the core of it all
goodbye worldly cares
goodbye poor history
gravity and our natural warmth have brought us here
i've tucked some fruit roll-ups in my puffy pockets for us to share

in focus

we wash our hair in the kitchen sink
and seal what's left in tupperware
we leaf through notes and letters
to decide what to keep

for the second time
we shave in the bathroom together
using what i taught myself
the angle of the blades
the direction of the stroke
muscle fibers misfire in an effort
to be still, as if bronze
my scissors' cut goes unnoticed
a slight V in your skin

we save our voices as they used to be
and write to remember

in descent

i re-read the letters you wrote
i recalled your tone when we spoke
but where are we now?

this is best kept to oneself

(i'll learn your language
just to know your song)

why do we endure these days
so faithfully, so gallantly
only to pass the hours alone?

(if you sing 'encore' again
i'm going to faint)

waiting for your warmth to fade

she's such a pretty girl
why did you ever feel
you could keep her all to yourself?

serial progress

the grating
its grid
a square

i saw you pass in a chair
with a code for your speech
you craned
when my stare was elsewhere
though my mind was on you and yours
and it always is

light trips through cracks in the wall
yet the sole reason for your unease
is the horrible sound in our ears
it's just the rushing of the wind
and cicada feedback

i got that joke
as well as everything
that doesn't change

the grating
its grid
a square

can someone touch me
just touch me

implicit coercion

i do not want
what you cannot give

i come inside you
to know where i'm at

all i want
i'll live to have

set your pattern
pulse, dim, constant

might

black nail polish
trimmed pony tails
they're lying to themselves
or maybe they really don't know

a fruitful mind
willfully diluted
die
die
everybody die

nico's prelude

typing letters in a blank field. no one will see them. no one should see them. they are mine and mine. write and erase.

at the ends of the earth, the dregs shrug in unison

dismantling your opinion of me
with each frantic word
saying blooody mary three times
alone in a bathroom

i remember
we don't matter
we can't love anything
we give
only as we've been given to

i've fingered "overwhelm" on the fogged mirror
and will trace it on the skin of your back

i want to see you buried
once your rise and fall
have been stilled
next to me

i won't even realize you're gone

ddream ssummary

mansion, many rooms, grandma passed out in one room, grandpa still about. moving from my bedroom upstairs to say good night. grandpa says he doesn't even know what every room contains. 1st room too narrow, 2nd one has outer door, then inner door with many locks, though it's only the first two that are needed to open. opens up to pipeways and stray cats, woman emerges who is fought off. bends like a parabola under the ankle-height door opening. beaten down on her neck til she goes back. man sitting in a car observes the confrontation and throws a square-profiled dark metallic bar through the woman's chest.

plan me

you wait and wait and wait
but i can tell you right now
they are diseased
and i am
i am germ-free
baby

you can take this poem
and fuck yourself with it
print it out
crumple it up
and rub it against your simian genitalia

you piece of shit

we move in slow motion together

when your nerves revolt, when your body betrays you, what was taken for granted becomes questionable. the tip of this knife in my hand, the mismatched wood grains surrounding us, your drawstring pants... these are givens. it is the unknown, the unanticipated, the unexpected that give us equal pause.

an acronym has deftly crept into my speech over the past months, inserting itself into my sentences, betraying where my mind is actually at when the topic of conversation is unrelated. said in darkness, said alone, said among friends, its reach is consistent -- too far.

this is what should not be.

our talk begins with a question, to which i cannot find a concise answer, only simple attempts to elaborate thoughts and concerns.

we try to pay attention even though the kitchen floor tiles are loosening their mortar and peeling up -- they're threatening to tear themselves off the ground, the oven door is slackening its hinges to belch fire at us, the dishes are procreating in the sink, and the mismatched tupperware in the cupboards is spilling onto the churning floor at our feet.

minutes pass but nothing is settled or planned. then a successful resolution to share the burden: we will balance the loss evenly between us, my left side and your right side, and exchange roles every-other-week.

our muscles are twitching, convulsing in a ringing unison. their breaths a harmony of firings not to be noticed again.

count on it

boys and their parents
girls and their vacancy
a false sense of dependency

corinthian heart

there is a song for every minute we spent together
songs from the future
songs that i have given you
and give you still

and there is a name for everything between us
though i don't have the motivation to list them again

the flesh of our youth
is giving way
to normalcy
so let us do something, anything
now
before we collect our senses