We Were Really Here
dad gives me the signal & so i walk slowly towards the table at the outdoor bar – my mum’s already there so we sit down & order drinks … it’s all normal but i don’t look coz dad said…
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Poems
As of October 2011, I’d posted over three hundred poems on this site, including many sonnets and search poems, as well as numerous poems that didn’t make it into chapbooks such as Abendland and Morgenland. I then ceased posting poems here, choosing instead to distribute them via my poem of the week newsletter. Then I stopped doing that too. Every now and then I post a poem here … but not as often as I’d like.
Ethnographic
polish paper-cut art doesn’t move only intersects with light or beige backgrounds – in fact depends on them as accents require the noise of pub chatter … meaning only comes through reinterpretation invention or else all life is a museum…
Relationship City
a fine place for a village she turns the first clod let it be here & so it comes into being with the barest fore-planning to be truthful yet soon enough the characteristic boulevardes thoroughfares cross-town tunnels appear dictating future…
Käthy Kruse
the hands that made the hands then passed her to the second set the hands that plucked the human hairs & threaded them into a wig the hands she passed her to then sewing on the little yellow jacket passing…
Pink City
bad boy scouts wearing red bandannas & hiking boots prowl the outdoor bars bringing alpine airs to ljubljana – i won’t be climbing the steps to the castle won’t conquer what’s not even there (the view the haze) instead i’ll…
Interface District
so i made some tapes from sonsg i ripped off the internet fed the cabel from the computer into my [pre-ipod] walkman but the songs all came out mono got the wrong stereo jack so now i listen to the…
Split 7″
zaboravljani hitovski/ forgotten hits obscure releases/ cocks & tits trophy girlfriends/ love hotels apartment farewells/ shower scenes warren beatty/ madonna bombs roulette tables/ passport songs slippery marble/ jadrolinjia sunday evenings/ predictable buskers where are the bands?/ where are the rebels?…
“Summer In Sipan”
well it’s summer in sipan & the town is full of models they’re all at the restaurant but they’re only eating entrees while the eunuchs dart around making stressful little sounds in the leafy hotel grounds we ate dinner then…
Abandoned Youth Camp
the planes fly well overhead now & couples no longer dawdle down by the jetty where an old dinghy rises & falls on the fluke waves of passing powerboats … & now cicadas chorale across an empty bay old pipes…
