the pixel pebble gala
Inspiration leaks and then turns. Like a house without lights that gets sun through windows but rotates, you never know how much light, which rooms, how long. Until you get to know the place. He had a hard stare and he was known for this. Frantic-tic-tics and lag eye, gestures of There Already waiting, contemplative AND desperate he suffered from wink assault. Speed Up Slow Down Town. SHOCK comes in, as many colors as you do. Who you are and how you love is the same kind of sentence³incomplete. No one will tell you the truth and no one will hide it from you. No one can tell you the truth and no one can hide it from you. Like birds around a grave. Someone else said all that and I like it. You can make noise even when you·re silent. You do it on the subway, you do it in love and you do it at dinner. Why can·t you do it now, when you want to? Never looking back battlefield at the trembling fount of bloodflow finitesimal decimal digits infested with secular limits No gimmicks or gimmes No getting it quickly No looking battlefield back Trembling blood mountains flow and fertile fountains run for the clovers And honey your toast Gun for the lovers Poppa son in the ghost bullseye The vegetarians take over Tears flow like blood for centuries until life gets on responsibly The way it·s meant to be instead of lazily Pass the head please, pass the red cheese
the pixel pebble gala What·s that? No. Red please Before that clots I·ll sop it up and twist it with my mystery I·m still hungry Even though there isn·t any room left in my tummy The whine of blood, whine of blood, wine of blood For centuries It doesn·t have to be You could contentedly Cultivate, civilized The wine of blood is in your eyes like black holes You cannot see You cannot hear You do not care because There is no get it quickly ENOUGH! Is enough is A battlefield. You·re not fighting. You·re not fighting. You suck blood without even fighting? Vulture, You might find me wide open Dumb wonder in my eyes mute and confounded Like an idiot I take chances and stride isn·t constant Forgive me I·m all over the place I don·t do lines I color everything now and sometimes You will find me glowing, like weeeeeeehhhehhhhhhe The night was cold and wet. I found myself walking into the street because whatever. Sometimes you have to live somewhere besides the edge. I found myself singing songs and listening for heart in my voice. It wasn·t too late, but late enough that the people not staying out were home and the people who were staying out were still inside getting drunk. A couple of men walked arms around one another in the same
the pixel pebble gala direction on the other side of the road, about the same pace as me, and I realized I could hear my own voice and there was no heart in it. My heart was in my chest, trapped and unhappy. As if hearts can be anything other than heavy or light. ´I can be,µ it seemed to moan. ´This heart is conscious and yes unhappy!µ I did not try to reason with it. I tried to listen but it spoke no more. I stopped singing and my brain took over. Nothing was working. Not the way I wanted it to. I knew my health was fine. I could not deny that things were going well for me. «
I bled orzo on the follicles Your victory. Fatuous faculties Pyrenees poppycock phone call You·re tardy Gleamsickle private part Taunt Haunt Hello? Gleamsickle, pop tard Fortunaught me. Sex identity, know yourself. Blow me. I bled orzo on the follicles and tongue-twisting popsicle sentences Ooooooooooooooohhhzz are like Time machine freeze travel time. Forgive me, I swallowed your gravatar. Radio! Video! PartyOh. Patio! Palestine. duhDinosaur Even looks like a fable. Internet. Chicken terquitas. Follow me now, you know I·m not thinking about this.
the pixel pebble gala Cash crumb Cake baby All or Nothing Sound Song Instruments Harmonic resonance Enlightenment Kitchen cock roach let·s start out like this I·ll pretend you aren·t real You will fall in love with me We orbit with temerity And make love with the sleepalong universe When the day turns right to acknowledge me I say your name Or like this: I freed my perspicacious Integrity to lacquer yr pedigree With empty solar Molasses. You agree to bourbon. We walk. Tonight as the moon I complete my rotation Around your dynamic Confusion And into your heart I did not Tell anyone. I left No note and my phone At home.
the pixel pebble gala Be Nice. Hidden thrilling Extraneous harmony concentration Right now dominate my eyes You can tell this Inspiration during Inspiration I have a secret life It·s passing me by Excuse me I go home, crying onto my bed. I don·t close the door. In our apartment that means anyone can come in. So if you just got home your roommates are like a puppy who follows you into your room, and that·s fine and even endearing even if it is annoying sometimes, but when they can see you are crying and still start in on you³after all, you did leave the door open³about how you·re killing yourself by working so hard for something you don·t have to do and don·t get paid for and you just start pouring out, like turning a bowl of water over and you expect it to empty but it just keeps fucking pouring out « and you get up from the bed and you know your face is wet and red and distorted but you have to speak through it. You who is always talking. Who are you to tell me how to live, you say. Yea, that drinking is better than this. And who are you to tell me your way·s better. This is natural and healthy even if it is killing me. You take medication and part of you knows you don·t need it. My chest heaves. I am falling apart and I am not wrong. I am triumphant. I am a hero of humans. I am such a proud and deserving no one. I am so goddamned needy and desperate
the pixel pebble gala and helpless. I cry all the time! I am exuberant! I am not satisfied! My 2 friends watch me: starving, hysterical, cliché³I have worshipped them, each in turn. One taught me to talk. And the other taught me how. And this is what I have to say to them. I·M SORRY. BUT YOU·RE WRONG. That sentence was just a pigeon, don·t worry about it. Paint your own transparency. Watching a bird fly over the flat expanse of Southern California I·m reminded how empty the world is. ´On the way to a concertµ Stopping to caress the brail of treebark Dodging flowers trying to grasp me Smiling at car windows, pedestrians, people in parks Beauty salons with hairdresser windows After McCallister Before Folsom Hayes and Divisi Where Bean Bag Café and Nopa are From Popeyes and Cuazema Club³ Ethiopian food original taste « Budget Cleaners, Zirya 6, a palm reader, The sole quadplex sandwiched between a hardware store and A piano bar @ Fell. Oh yeah, concert! The traditional form of celebration is spontaneity. You don·t have to follow ME!
the pixel pebble gala Ralph Abraham said ´heart physiologists find more chaos in a healthy heart than in a sick heart,µ and I don·t know who Ralph Abraham is but I can tell he knew what he was talking about. Quote: no one can know what will come out of the ruins but it·s easy to see what will be destroyed. Quote: Tell me what you do with what you eat and I will tell you who you are. Quote: the imperishable force that turns matter into spirit is divine. Ralph Abraham didn·t say those things unless he quoted Nikos Kazantzakis. And I·m not trying to change anything but to do justice. Relax. If you can see What I can be You can see Better than all my eyes put together Your beautiful iPod face. Post-godernity! Am I too old for it to be meaningful that you have my attention?
When I get antsy In a moment of clarity I ask myself How long can I put the truth Off It doesn·t have to do with anything Else There is a woman beside me
the pixel pebble gala But the newspaper is dying. Aren·t I romantic? Outside. I think it·s been a long time since I was cold Inside I·m just freezing Or I can·t stop talking Because I·m exploding I can·t tell. Quietly We must freeze Into that holy image Where I want to keep dreaming I want to keep thinking I Want to keep drinking and I·m hungry Call me selfish, but I won·t forgive you if you don·t go up to that microphone And pour yourself into me Me? Not doing anything Just thinking of you on the other side of the room tomorrow « there will be Other rooms and other beautiful, Wholesome, delicate genius Poets with style And I will love them too until They leave, or I leave and There is always something else to love. 3PM longest day
the pixel pebble gala sun came out wet cool minute³ the finest poem i know. C·mon, Shih Tzu. I·m not moving until that cloud touches the moon. Do you see that nimbus like the moon is a flashlite looking down through the clouds at us? I·m scared. I walk right into winter with a knife, naked in underpants, dog, like fuck you comma Let·s tumble I might freeze But I will never lose heart And if that means We have to fight Bring it Something to do Something to love Something to look forward to Don·t be overwhelmed by the honey, bee³whether it come from you or me. Inconceivable sources produce fine-quality variations of sameness. This should intoxicate, titillate, topple: wonder will be in your honey long as you bee. The Curator Series (Joke #1) Are you involved in an already established reading series that has expectations and format and demands a certain kind of writing you·re good at but maybe have something else, some other voice or kind of writing that you·d like to develop but don·t have an outlet for? Maybe you started a reading series and are now tied to it professionally but do your own writing and want to read
the pixel pebble gala elsewhere. Wouldn·t it feel great to stand up to the microphone and just deliver your words without introduction, shed your self and be voice, voice voices? Master the things that are in your mind, he said. That·s what I paid him for. And that·s what speed to go. You create value You create options And make decisions What happens Light falls, for one For at least one person every second We bury what we cherish No longer and love one another for being for being this and no other we propose to deposit our prize in social horizons until we know how to spend it hoping to earn common interest until we share secrets and powers and sell it to people like us with plans who might know how to use it release the world from illusion and then redo it ´This is how I slide into placeµ I start with a detail. Red canvas and carnival smell, Dirt darkness. Unlit neon nights of nothing tomorrows.
the pixel pebble gala Children play cards in animal dreams, she-wolf snarfs jalapenos from campfire cans tosses shimmering self-white in the full moon field anything but empty crawling slinking soaring slinking from one blade of grass to another takes a lifetime death takes nothing. Crickets. ´In case I forget who I·m talking to, maybe you should glow moreµ I strike like lightning Periodic impulsive I·m concentrating One strike One flash to illumine The darkness I feel With the light that I am And I·m here every week And you·re here every week And this isn·t the last time I·ll recite you THIS p o e m Think of how much we·ll change before THIS p o e m grows up and moves out on it own Hair is dead reed on a tree Blowing in the wind But I still brush it Inside me now is not the wolf, the stillness, the hard night But the voices of men and women and their various musix
the pixel pebble gala This reminds me of little plastic chairs in kindergarten, red, blue and yellow are primary, fantastic: f-a-n-t-a-s-t-i-c. Break it into 3s. Fan/ Tas/ Tic. Greg Greenberg always yelled out the answers, the class tittered and said G·daaalyaa! And some people take advantage. The smell of old books and how they always keep the page. I remember swimming pools and chlorinated aftereyes and bathing suits drying on plastic patio chairs, puddles beneath them growing, the color of teabags in pitchers spreading, darkening, it will have to get cold first. This reminds me of coca cola ice cubes with cherries in them and endless secret conversations in the shade of my first backyard, when boys were different than girls. Summers in the grass with baseball bushes, through the windows, out the park and into the street. Waiting for cars to pass and licenses to come our way, freedom, adulthood, American nights full of sex and alcohol. When do we turn 16? and how long is time again? This reminds me of high school trepidation, collared shirts and consciousness, unsupervision, cool can be mean and abusive. I remember squeaky boots as a crisis, cramming, keeping quiet, sneaking cigs from myself for the greater good of society. What sacrifices we made! This reminds me of eggnog from can into glass, of ocean residue on sandslopes and the smell of seaweed in my brother·s hair. I can see Paris from here and Barcelona, remember how sand-dollars are passports to before we were human. This reminds me of sweetgums and gumballs, baseball cards and friends I haven·t thought of in years. Lifetimes! That friends don·t ever dissipate³they·re like different colors of sand in a glass jar you get at the fair on the beach, which this still reminds me of. What does the beach have to do with this? What is this?