Bathroom Floor Next To Toilet

It goes this way sometimes.
You wake up semi-blind
with fungal toenail dust
coating your tongue and sties
in both eyes that did not exist
before, and the coiling
and recoiling miles of intestines
stuffed in your abdomen
like so many sausages past
their expiry date, turning green
and gray and a gray-green
perfectly balanced. Luckily
we don’t fetishize guns 
in my country, otherwise,
well otherwise, a bullet
to the temple would be 
a small and tender mercy. 
Better than this rusty anvil
rotting in my aching skull,
pulling all my teeth out
of their gums and stretching
my nostrils as wide as my mouth.
Then it happens, the cataract
like effect both beautiful
and leg-weakening.
And thus one surrenders
to the cool of a rim, ceramic
and white and lovely,
no matter, no matter
what went on before this
moment, it’s like being hugged,
it’s like being loved. 

dam i wish i had a mcchicken… 

i sit down on the curb
remembering that great scene in the movie american history x
* so hungry *
look at the ground
a rolly bug (!)
pick it up
watch it on my palm 

a young one approaches
are you really jesus christ reincarnated? she asks,
pointing to the words on my shirt
sure am.  
mom told me you are just a very sick man
well, what do you think? i ask her 
hmm, she thinks.. 
while i put the bug in my mouth
ew! she squeels
mmm! i say
what’s it taste like? 
a mcchicky, i tell her 

JENNY COME HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT! her mom is screaming 
jenny says bye jesus! 
see u later jenny 
i watch her run 
her dress blowing up in the wind
revealing very white panties
i tongue bits of the bug from my teeth 
tastes like pussy

pro tip: if ur really hungry u can eat rollypollies to keep ur energy up 
suburban bear grills

i walk on
through a neighborhood
passing great big houses
perfectly manicured green lawns
cherry blossom trees 
barking dogs
behind big gates
a muscle man is washing his BMW
shirtless
he stares at me
i stare back
i take off my shirt 
he asks what are you staring at?
i say i’m staring at a mcchicken 
what did you say, buddy?
you heard me loud and clear, chum 
listen pal, if you don’t move along, i’m going to call the cops…
i see a lady pass by in the window behind him  
i point her out, 
i tell him i’m going to move a long thick schlong
up that bitch!

i lick my lips 

i’m jesus christ i can do anything i want 

I Don’t Write Much About Nature

I like writing about sex

and God

and nothing

those are things
agreeable to the quirks
of my pen

not so much nature

though sometimes

the vision of the ocean comes

but I don’t write about it

you can’t when
you’re getting washed out to sea

Egg

Crack it open 
my mind 
my fears 
my hesitation 
mother fucker 
let it drip 
like golden yolk 
from a 
sunny-side-up egg 
my man 
loves it runny 
with Sriracha 
my mind’s  
still spicy 
& raunchy  
even when 
we are hands off 
we still talk 
sexy shit 
when we get tired 
sexy dreams 
make us touch all over 
I’m not a chicken 
my own eggs 
are drying up 
but the sexy girls 
in my head 
shine the lust light 
golden light 
I can come  
without touching 
are you jealous? 
I lift my legs  
20 times each 
to alleviate the pain 
of the back 
I don’t care Baby 
if you are now fatter 
compared when 
we first met 
we still love 
each other’s asses 
please don’t  
be a sleepy chicken 
crack it open 
our fears need  
to take a hike 
you already touched  
my heart light 
my heart pumps 
we go too deep 
white stuff 
oozing out 
wearing our fear  
frozen 
upon our faces 
but I want pleasure 
again & again 
let’s crack it 
& solve the problem  
of getting down 
& busy 
that’s why we don’t  
we are too busy 
& too fat 
& too fragile  
& too goddamned tired 
eggs are expensive  
& we are fried 
& we are stuck 
trying not to break open 
he loves his gizzum 
she thinks it’s disgusting 
don’t want it on her face 
no pearl necklace 
but egg whites are okay 
on her face 
needs more batteries 
for remote controls  
& vibrators 
sweating in bed 
feeling the change 
transforming  
but still ravenous 
for eggs

Same Shit, Different Pile

My cat’s asshole gets bright pink and expands
when he’s getting ready to take a shit

He drops his shit in the covered litter container
with his furry head looking out the entrance 

When it’s done he dashes out scattering litter everywhere
and runs across the bathroom’s ceramic tiled floor 

Then slides across the kitchen linoleum

Until his claws scratch across the bedroom’s wooden floor

Finally, he jumps up into the air and lands on the windowsill
proud of what he has just accomplished and left behind

And excited to see if he missed anything outside

Obsidian Bones

Beauty can be found in chaos
you once whispered,
placing an obsidian arrowhead
between my mangled fingers. 

You sing me stories of 
girls born from fire. 
Rising from soot and
destruction, their obsidian bones 
A pinnacle of strength. 
You say I hold the same
volcanic beauty. 

Do you not know
my lava-scarred skin drapes 
bones of burning poison?
Piles of ash call me their home.
There is no obsidian
born from my eruption.

Pushing the arrowhead across the table,
I smile weakly.

There is no beauty to be found here. 

Some People Travel the World

and come back 
the same 

shits they were
when they left. 

Others stay
in their same hometown 

for forever
and become wise.

Most people 
simply turn

to dirt 
and fade 

forgotten 
into the earth.

The Moon is a Neon Light

She is love and light
and wild mood swings
and laughter,  and a rictus smile
that says she is on the brink
and every other guy 
in this dive bar 
leans away to avoid her
but I’m stupid…

So I take a stool near hers. 
She asks what I do 
and I tell her I’m a poet 
and leave out the day job.
She slaps my thigh and squeezes,
tells me she just must hear a poem
but never leaves a space
between her own hurried words.
She tells me she lives for her art
but doesn’t see color
and thinks we all 
should get along
and thinks the protests
went too far
and there are good cops too
but not her ex.
She ashes her smoke
in her neighbor’s drink
and puts a finger to her lips
because we’re in on this together
but even though she has
those 70’s titties 
and you’re sure 
her bush is 
soft, wild, and warm
as a good dream
you head home 
because you can only
pretend to give a shit
about gemstones
for so long.

So you settle up
and slip out as she
tells the next guy down
all about Sedona.
Back on your couch 
you lovingly imagine
bringing her home.
When you finally fall into sleep
you’re glad you didn’t.

The Gut Bucket

Y shaped incision = blood, gristle and goo
Lips pucker and pout, eyes play peek-a-boo
Lungs crackling sponge, colon steaming poo

Heart of brawny beef, liver oozes licorice bile
Stomach chock-full of pills, uterus empty of child
Spleen purplish sludge, pancreas necrotic and vile

Scalp pulled up front to cover the face,
Skull cap removed from brain it encased
Brain a jiggly Jell-O mold no memory trace

Fluids and guts from here to Nantucket
Time for scrubby scrub scrub? Fuck it
It’s that time for the amazing Gut Bucket!

The switch flipped on it hums like a bee
But instead of sucking, it rises like a tree
The Gut Bucket then shouts orders at me

In my fluorescent speedo bloody and cold
I stand at attention and do what I’m told
These postmortem high-jinx never get old.

Finished I pour a drink of the old tipsy topsy
As for cause of demise I review the necropsy
It becomes very clear she died during autopsy