tinny wild vibrations on the lawn in September. cigarette smoke, ashes sparkle on the plastic cup. scream in the mic, rock your shins, great raw punk, between sets, the last set begins? no, more then the beat like a freight train out of the gate, rudumdumdumdumdumdum Shake your head, rahhh screeeesh! vrummmmmm lights like little stars on a string. how to describe the thump, hardcore in the chest, slow then go, more songs. fuckin play the shit man drums guitar scratch just like we practiced, the people want to bounce around, and sway, and stand still and absorb, smoke their cig like a little finger pet, then mosh til they fall over and the song ends, lets go another one, shove your neighbor, feel the touch, chaos is the goal, chaos is the message, chaos is love, anger is joy, pain is pleasure, sing the shit, play the shit, do the shit, this is what they want. this is punk, the message is nihilism, the end is sick, annihilation upon us, pollutants in the water. shows over, we’re all gonna die what could go wrong? why?
The first poem in a new project called “Everyday Magic.” Play the audio to hear me brush my teeth.
Open the cupboard.
Take out toothpaste. Unscrew cap. Apply toothpaste to brush. Put cap back on toothpaste. Put toothpaste back in cupboard. Apply water to the brush.
Tap tap tap tap.
Holding the toothbrush with the right hand, gently apply the paste behind the teeth by biting down slightly on the bristles. Ready to begin. Hold the brush at a 45º angle to the gums, pushing and pulling the bristles back and forth over this line. Feel the sensation of cleanliness and care applied in and around the precious enamel.
Beginning with the lower left molars on the outside, brush back and forth. Pulling the right arm further to the right moves the brush around the front to the lower left premolars, the cuspid, and the central incisors. Then, flip the hand around to continue around the front to the lower right cuspid, the premolars, and the molars.
Work the brush around behind the lower right molar. Pull the hand outward in rhythmic motion while brushing back and forth along the back of the lower right premolars, the cuspid, and the central incisors. Then, flip the hand around to continue along the back of the lower left cuspid, the premolars, and the molars.
Spit.
Rotating the brush to the upper left molars on the outside, brush back and forth. Pulling the right arm further to the right moves the brush around the front to the upper left premolars, the cuspid, and the central incisors. Then, flip the hand around to continue around the front to the upper right cuspid, the premolars, and the molars.
Work the brush around behind the upper right molar. Pull the hand outward in rhythmic motion while brushing back and forth along the back of the upper right premolars, the cuspid, and the central incisors. Then, flip the hand around to continue along the back of the upper left cuspid, the premolars, and the molars.
Spit.
Rinse the toothbrush in water, suck the water out of the brush. Spit.
Turn the water on. Repeat this process.
Rinse the brush a final time.
Tap tap tap tap.
Put the toothbrush back in its holder. Take a gulp of water and rinse the mouth. Spit. Turn off the water. Flick water off fingers. Dry hands with a towel.
Among the graces of orchard kings, we sit like moonlight on a field of grain.
In violet beams of sky-burst bright in the evening, the warriors dance to beats of lives saved and lives lost, to beats of foot on foot on, pounding the ground rock soil.
Again they dance, waving hands through swarms of fire, light, fire; flying home to forest swamps in the no-light.
Child’s laughter bursts as smoke from a pine cone, frizz-pop, and they alight, from guilty blamelessnesses to a painfully relieving smolder of the seh- the sel-
ego-self.
Still they dance with eyes closed, their raised elbows bent, rotating their bodies like planets as we revolve around this great giant beast of, monster of, deliverance and, compassion and, movement and, all things in this universe that could ever be so bright and fruitful.
You are my morning, you are my evening, you are my night-time dreaming reflection in the mirage on the horizon.
Sleep now, as your heroes dance silently around your sibling star, beat, beat the foot on, foot on;
This was written at a time when I was still in the midst of foolish infatuation while coming to terms with my queerness. I am sharing it exactly as it was written because I feel it offers a startling clear glimpse into a moment of self-realization. (Note: The last line is written on the other side of the bag and is not shown in the picture)
And when the sun rises, I will make a place to rest my mind. Water into an endless bed of roses, that ebbs and flows, it is an ocean, constantly shifting, moving, swaying, dancing like two lovers on the dim floor of the nineteen-something, used to be a speakeasy old restaurant. I don’t know the owner, but I feel like he knows me, knows something about me, as if there was something about the place that could hear me, as if this page were the sky and the scratch of my pen the thunder, the words, clouds, pouring down torrents of rain and hail and snow. One in the same, as it’s like, my body, a shell, is attached somehow, by electro-static cling it seems like, there’s no way to make that separation (!) without dismantling the power generator and killing the charge, that buzz, the constant hum that drives me, wills me forward into every next judgement, whim and flight of fancy, there’s no stopping it, it, what’s it, it must be the thing inside this shell, this body it must be an abyss, a black hole, it’s amazing my body can stand the pressure without being sucked in, unless I’m wrong, maybe that’s what suffering is, maybe that’s why I’m so tired today, well, I know that’s the reason, I can’t hide behind maybe forever, even if that’s the story of my life, or am I getting too personal? Perhaps I’ve gotten to thinking that “maybe” implied the middle way, the road of least resistance perhaps, except I am learning that maybe has come to mean, no. These, these things, I might call them insight, but I’m afraid that would give myself too much credit or not. I think it would. I think perhaps that I’ve done enough thinking for a little while. Now, all that’s left to do is think poetically, while the myriad blue and white and periwinkle clouds pass by like birds that have been flying so long they’ve almost forgotten how to land.
The assignment was to write a poem sequence combining one greater idea. For this project, I looked at the life-spans of different things. I wrote this when I was 18 years old. I collaborated with another student to create a video for the “Tree” section of the poem. When I have retrieved it I will upload it here.
Flea
When it happens, just like that, life means everything and without it, nothing means nothing. Don’t expect. Don’t predict. Just do and you are done.
Human
Build on empires, towers, and masterpieces. Build until you cannot see and then destroy your new beauty. Stomp on your own dreams; make them ruins. Don’t create the tangible. Don’t build on something. Simply move forward and you will get there soon.
Tortoise
You must lift your feet and set them down gently on solid ground. Breath from lungs that have inhaled the dirt from before your time. Open your eyes and see the time pass in peace. Don’t blink. Don’t stop. But learn and you will know.
Tree
Open your arms and ask the world to believe you. Live so that you can live more. Expand into everything and listen to your neighbors they will tell you your secrets. Don’t move. Don’t speak. Instead, rise up. And you will grow forever.
Rock
You sit on my bed and speak to the universe. Bring your blessings of a hopeful future. Speak out with your silent voice, allow yourself to be budged about by our words; and never hold on to anything. Don’t remain. Don’t fall apart. All you have to do is be. And you will become.
