i have the proof, you'll have your revenge

fuck a big break, anyways

this is a hostile takeover

you, finnigan’s wake

you, infinite jest

you, the rosy crucifixion

what i was saying the whole time i was writing graffi ti:

i love repeating myself.

in the event of my accidental death: an instructional pdf

send my negatives to a MoCA

send my words to PS1

alexa gets everything i own

the clutter, lol

please take care of tennessee cat

i suppose you always think something is wrong, that’s your charm

your schedule, conditions, zones

and yes, you feel sick somewhere new

in your body, the villain

a reasonable expectation of love

a windy day and healthy confusion about

what tasks to take on, at least you went outside

for coff ee, water, cigarettes

hungry in a diff erent way, now that

i’m not depressed

did i hear that right?

in indianapolis, where the ugly turn soft

you thankfully gaze at the lack of neon signage

i feel sorry for anyone following me

wind blackjack dealer shuffl es unused canvases

stored on the back patio new studio, reminding you

it’s not the kind of day to check the news

it’s not that i’ve left, or am leaving

and to think, thousands of dollars at the very least

shower, sex, then eat

demineralized treated water

potassium bicarbonate

not to say i’ve been wasting time

or that the time has been a waste

meet, marry, it struck me, so

exhausted, quiet, therapy

oral sex in the event of an emergency

before i could go back to sleep

but who mythologized who?

living room organized coup

turned around 30

more than anything comforting

future continued to exist

asleep in dirty clothes pile

at the foot of the bed

it, too hot

still smiled immediate

various approaches to glory

recording

every way former selves

would respond to positivity

change my mind or

complicate everything

alexa, i want to have a baby

appropriate poolside conversation

stop

164 photographs must be enough

excitement is important

sex clap is clap a clap gang

please don’t instagram this car crash

together or separate

22% loud

ok, so do you remember that time when you faked a broken wrist

when you thought you were about to have a meltdown? was that

faking the meltdown, do you think?

the candle burn vanilla scent dizzy on the loveseat and everything

is annoying upon refl ection doomed feeling is that all there is-ness

what was i thinking, nothing - you’re just cute and what tequila

shots do, they’re doing.

she asked about the previous one’s star sign and i couldn’t remember

i couldn’t even remember what month she was born in

for real

do you remember fake pogs? and fake pokemon cards? and how

serious of an off ense that was?

why i stopped reading the news:

“exterminate them,”

not all of them, you know - just these few

a 40-ish man orders a vodka redbull and someone behinds him

chuckles - “what year is this?” i know he wants to be hip but it

comes off as obnoxious, a refusal to read the drink list - he gets

waved off by the bartender and the chuckling man behind orders a

beer and a shot.

“i need to get something

for my pussy”

it itches on the inside, idk

i have a yeast infection probably

i get them before my period sometimes

i understand it hurts

and now is not the time

but you’ve never looked more beautiful

shaving parmesano reggiano

into a saucepan

books i own will never read:

lonely planet’s “discover turkey.”

probably that’s it actually why was i going to turkey?

it being friday

i’m drinking juice about it

need me healthy

advil not helping

i think maybe depressed

i don’t know i’m tired

reservations get canceled

convertible car goes by, playing reggae

i would like to kenneth koch pdf instead

kids have kids and they eat freezies in july

print my reciept and leave

yellow red blue turning dirty

“is that how you like it?”

oh god what was i saying

if destruction can be sexy then

i’m - fucking - naked on a clamshell

drinking vodka sodas

an already love story

account history

“it’s in the code”

shortcuts, variable fi nding

or has the source been verifi ed?

my thinking has gone confetti

if i’m clean, i’m wrong

refl ections look hieroglyphic no,

zodiac and my hair can’t be short again

goodwill courtesy believing in distance

threats obscure

the appeared malaise

tigers, they call us

bearing calm witness

as rigid as rhythm

i address you as lover

for immediate release:

i am recently thirty

and thinking about having a family

(?!)

maybe

everybody’s serious but me

here are the facts

or, rather, the facts we have

why are you asking if you know damn well

it didn’t happen to me

but it could have

the material, the message,

the rhetoric, the accidental

“not in my backyard” style liberalism

the meaning changes as often as the

question gets asked

delete your browser history

as an original form of protest

manage your behavior in default mode

stop complaining

make a novel composed by retweets

break the law with someone you love -

if you really love them

i work for a living

what’s for sale these days?

everything? great.

my dude, your photo work ain’t that good -

but that isn’t my fault.

art criticism can’t exist in a world where everything is taken

personally

im interested in working around the information i have archived -

categorized -

and then reorganizing it based on my mood of the day.

what i mean is

do you understand what i’m saying?

work until it is yours

i call that “sweat equity”

it’s too dense, frustrating to read

well, cut down the words you don’t need

being a painter or a writer never seems like a proud thing -

paying your bills, taking care of your family, however...

i wasn’t too drunk i was busy $50 later y’all are dumb

i’m glad we are both drug free together

now sour but sorted

are you working or are you just drinking

and pretending to be quiet

on your phone

i can’t listen in the dark

“pretty enough words / paint a picture of us that works”

- who’s livejournal?

i’ve painted over several canvases i’ve paid for and didn’t like anymore.

i’ve painted over a lot of my own paintings, too.

i only write in red pens because everything is a mistake to begin

with.

i want to clearly indicate those mistakes.

the more i read, the smarter i get.

the less i read, ???

the more i read, the more i write.

asking for permission is so 2017

meme poetics and the gender apology tour

translating poems from the french,

but i don’t really think my french is that great

ok

my poems are now laughing in the street

my poems are making fun of you

all my bad habits are good poems

my poems won the world cup july 2018

the invention of the ship is also the invention of the shipwreck

rhythm is a joke

if you’re using grown-up language

if you don’t repeat yourself,

how can i take you take you

seriously seriously seriously

seriously seriously seriously

you’re missing

“the point.”

poetry has to proceed past the paywall

as frequent as a facebook status update

poems now going for as low as fi ve megabytes on the dollar

this is the proper use for my love

hating mystery, looking for you white bike riding

xxx thumbnails loading

jazz as a bad sculpture

jazz i could do without

being a cheerleader

taking a u-turn

you’re going to be sorry

love, a long time ago

escaped from “some place”

handcuff ed 10/10

sand in your sneakers stay there

and WHAT can be done with the state of the house!

it’s not the pharamcueticals i’m coming around to

today, being of use

i’m shaking give me a minute

keep the kindness in your heart

please be avocado toast considerate

i decided to make money

wisdom teeth jealous

dehydrated citrus peeling

fl attened meadow i’m guessing

dress blossom printed

bloodless, beyond that

pulling the ink acrosss the fabirc

reveals the image

your joan of arc research

asleep during the day

seems weird now checking pockets

v for victory

u for you and me

a for after a while you forget it is summer

sudden completely diff erent

i had a feeling

touching without seeing

twenty fi ve twenty six twenty seven

early life and education

believing in ghosts is silly, believe me

leave the light on anyway

does this make me the other man

or is it the pillow

or paper written on

or a tijuana wandering, holding your hand

“don’t worry about a thing like that.”

spend the whole entire bike ride

looking backwards

making sure

you safe,

i run the red lights

i’m hormonal and i hate a man in uniform

when i yawn i’m bored

i see you on the sidewalk

am confused by

who i could be

was then

who?

things, working diff erently, glad did not,

now, me shop for lacroix and not drug dead

reminder of good i got, not

transparent umbrella cheap

again, i gotta ask you to stay on your side

of the street

“echo,”

meaning -

the rooster “cockadoodledoo”

in english

also “cocorico”

en francais

hesitating before each left turn

like that, you make a stain

i take your hand or

you take my hand or

you know the names

the natural, the real

the real world where wolves speak

not worth losing a fi nger so keep

your j’accuse to yourself

sneakers need to be cleaned

maestro, bad master

the landscape, dignifi ed

“we always fail to talk”

about this post-situation understanding

under the volcano

of panic in slow-motion

you exist stretching your legs out

politely shown the door

as it was diffi cult to fi nd

apocalypse in hebrew is “gala”

which means “to discover”

i have the proof, you’ll have your revenge

the darkness inside you wants to buy a pair of shoes

i am not in the habit of asking anyone anything

what did i tell you

- i told you

- this always happens

the accident is never an accident

drinking a mojito if it’s worth noticing

no aff airs, just novels

you sphnix

i, beliving in my lucky star

you, wearing a thin linen dress

me, so quickly

a lover, a locksmith

six weeks behind this calendar

from a conceptual point of view,

i must be content

just visiting for the weekend

everybody is punk on saturday

decoding “do it yourself ” ethos

into something that suits me

no essence of fi xed things

drinking hot tea

on a hot day

explaining

black coff ee

common statement

“like my lovers, like my soul”

black nikes, red swoosh,

“these must be my lucky shoes.”

pepsi

colored

bruises

i read self-helf books just to prove i don’t need them.

meditation, work, etc

nah, i’m ok

just making sure

author blogger book coach commissioning editor consultant freelancer

ghostwriter editor journalist novelist poet screenwriter scribe

songwriter speechwriter technical writer fuck html code writer

what else can i do

“in heaven,” she whispered,

“nobody rollerblades, longboards, or

bicycles on the sidewalk.”

“mmm.”

“everybody walks at a quick pace,

and every road is recently paved,

and skateboarding in traffi c makes

sense.”

“mmmhhh.”

“regular skateboards, no stupid banana

boards or whatever. those are banned.”

“ohhhhh...”

the interesting parts of life aren’t worth writing,

these successful boredoms

read in a diff erent context, it sounds like you’re describing class war

i don’t think i’ll ever write about grief

i’m just talking from experience

allergic to empires

novels

certainty

i prefer the ephermal

something profound already exists

everything starts with writers block

maybe internet work

how’s your book going

i’m behind

it’s polluting my thoughts

money pollutes my thoughts a lot

lately, maybe

5htp, bacopa

smart, still vomiting

how much worse can it get

what a stupid thing

how do we talk about this

enhancement of self

you’re still talking about focus

no, commitment

to organization

apparently so

you’ve got a big day tomorrow

$100,000

you think

i just pull myself together

again and again

laptop hot

i cant imagine what would happen

sleeping on the ouch like old days

remember?

doing so much drugs

you were surprised you woke up

lol

you crazy

except now you’re just

scared of the dark

i hope it doesn’t happen to me

i’m overreacting

lol

big brown eyes

that’s the way it works

always have a plan

even if the plan doesn’t work

a gift, unearned

careless

rely on discretion

my left eye suddenly dry

sign i am tired

this movie wasn’t terrible

but defi nitely not great

listen,

i’ll take off my underwear and give them to you so you can use

them as a bathing suit bottom.

this whole beach smells like bird shit.

come to me, just knee deep.

you’ve been picking your face, your nose pimple.

i should write a crime novel, a mystery - like that dude who wrote

a cookbook or whatever.

the black magic bandit and his mind control methods of captivity.

picking people’s pockets with your prose.

shifting in your seat

the image isn’t loading

jingling your keys

wait, where did we see the google earth car?

bloor and christie?

i don’t have the app, can i use your phone

it glitches so nicely

i bet we look so good

is this vampire weekend?

such fuck boys

dennis cooper is chuck palahniuk for people who pretend they

don’t like chuck p.

god, i bet people who drink orange wine love dennis cooper.

how did he end up on my ‘to read’ list?

the sluts? that book was the one. i haven’t found it, but the others...

people around are, for the most part, nonthreatening

but obnoxious in their questions

and their phones beep too often

and they don’t thank their server

emotionally taxing navigation

quote unquote

no reason

everyone agrees it’s bullshit

such bullshit

i gotta boogie with the koalas

even if you’re coercing me to say these things

sulking on the bathroom fl oor

yawning over a glass of wine

i’m disappointed, you know,

in these outfi ts and eyebrows

and i want to dry out at the beach

and out of breath come bedtime

and unset myself of sand in the shower

unknown number calling, nope -

let it go to voicemail no new messages

oh they’d have messaged if it was important

and you have to plan this vacation

fi nd somewhere to read ‘ulysses part two’

in public and maybe get a tattoo on my face

but not my throat

what have you learned,

reading your book on loneliness?

don’t chantrelle mushroom me -

or bitter green

remember when you came in me, eyes locked no blinking?

all of them witches

pink or orange wristbands

people in their 30s

too many years

supressing a grin

calmly organizing things

waiting for your eyes to adjust

plato or socrates?

whichever was the least sexist

#esl

“never allow someone else’s no

to annihilate your yes.”

you, walking towards

me, smiling

constantly buying books

dangly earrings, macbook pro

absently looking elsewhere

i forget my glasses are on my face

i press my fi ngers on the lenses

oh, there they are

they’re on my face

i do this ten times a day

understanding the forgery fi rst

it’s not that simple, and it’s not the whole story

hypnotic self-absorbtion

how often do i say

“top fl oor” or “penthouse”

instead of saying

“20th fl oor”

thief of time

enemy of promise

nobody can be sure of the exact laws.

the law changes too quickly.

i sit with elanor the aloe plant.

we wait for a miracle.

sophrosyne : self-control

breaking up careerism

claiming presence of the divine

if i got a tattoo that said, i don’t know,

“queer”

what would that make me, hmm?

i’ve always wanted to fail at writing a love story.

i’m concerned about becoming famous without having done

anything.

one way to describe a person:

the most qualifi ed for the job.

we understand that once your words are jotted down, they are no

longer yours -

that they can be picked up by others.

what am i trying to say?

-all artists fetishize their own work, their working methods, their

surroundings, those around them, them-selves

i consider the undeniable facts of self-preservation

the photographic imprint

-the images we remember

the photographic excess

-the 24 frames of the same thing

if your picture isn’t good, you standing close enough

1) i have not brought many people with me to galleries or

museums.

2) how does a nondrinker celebrate?

3) [...] at the height of his fame and anxiety

if i did everything i wanted to do, i’d probably be dead

we don’t call police in my city -

we let people keep living

poking all the holes, still leaking

memorialized past

bittersweet fl awed or pure

depending on my re-imagining

69 poems and lists

i have so much stuff to throw out

art is funny like that

a refusal to participate:

let your id expire, throw away your bank card

me: “excus-”

someone who just moved here: “yeah, it’s a tattoo of a snake. cool,

huh.”

god i love you

god i’m hungry

god i’m tired

god i’m dizzy

you: having trouble at the bank

me: i told you so

every time you feel bad about yourself,

remember there are so many people

who haven’t read a book since

harry potter and the sorcerer’s stone

what can i repeat that sounds better the second time around?

is it egypt or my sinuses

that keeps me from breathing

“and you had best believe / that you cannot build what i don’t

need.”

i thought i would write about food and booze and work like

bourdain, and still wrote like me.

i thought i would write careless like kerouac, and still wrote like

me.

i thought i would write spiteful prose like cohen, and still wrote

like me.

i’m not sure if this is a good thing.

post-writing

print-based

detournment

richard prince’s guggenheim retrospective

deny until i die

less emotional journalism

or more, maybe

a journal usually describes either very happy or very sad events

i’m more interested in the missing middle.

the less-interesting and unwritten.

the 24 hour workday unreality

a milestone’s menu of freedom

can you delete that photo? no.

low-level productivity

loneliness-free routine

business cards need to be printed

failed journalism as memoir

experience as content

i have an eating disorder, so i don’t sing for my supper

a situation,

a story -

as long as the underlying truth resonates

suff ocating disappointment

nothing ever happens

hypothetical obstacles

where real life falls in the cracks

in miscellaneous order

“is” are” “were” “was”

so, i don’t speak french but i want to learn.

“but you’ve still not mastered english?”

i mean, right.

did i learn to be sensitive?

am i formally responsible for my own history?

contamination, again

i had a lot of advil,

is that why i’m disassociating?

if mad magazine

published poetry,

perhaps?

other people read diff erently

other people read other people’s work

“i’m studying memory.”

- my artist statement 2016-18

i’m not sure what i meant

you’re a hoarder, says my wife

you can’t help bringing home trash

but i might be able to use this

this is me using that trash.