Thursday, October 27, 2016


It better arrive before xmas or at least easter.
I'd like to express order a train
that will take me to candy.
I don't want to bleed for it.
I want it for free
before and after bedtime.
I wish to look in one lover's eyes
and melt into a carnival.
I want to order whee at the top
above crazy colored lights
and dropped red hot apples.
Don't ask for my address or age.
I'm nowhere. I'm still thirteen.
Raspberry dark chocolate me some
kind of promise.
But I have to believe it.
Has to be heavier than a San Antonio
booty call or drunk missed connection.
Bring me a rocket.
I don't want to die for it.
I'm talking about waking up
to French toast and bacon
from a pig not a turkey
and the blackest coffee possible
and him glancing at me
over the newspaper
because they still make those
and in his reading glasses
I'm luscious
I'm nubile
I'm never been fucked up the ass
and it's all first class to Venus
no stops on Saturn.
Bring it fast and furious
while I still
possess a damn.


Do not heed the psychic werewolves
and color coded cheerleaders
with their perfect peppermint smiles.
Bleed christ bleed into QVC customer service
into blow jobs into karaoke into customized videos
unto death
popcorn no popcorn
butter no butter
biggie size soda
lukewarm fountain water
no ice no filter
no fucking straw
bleed christ bleed
because Jesus wept sangre
because no answer from daddy
because no dawn
bleed bleed bleed
with or without panties on
bleed because you know how
you've chorus lined each step
since 1983
you can do that
you're dance ten
looks eleven
at the ballet
at the disco
at any given honky tonk
hot ass Saturday night.
Bleed christ bleed
because we all need mas
with extra sauce
but we settle for much less
because the limbic xmas tree
is such an irony deficient
linear noel
and we burn baby burn
while ice castles melt
into idiot sea.
It's Salinger.
It's Bradbury.
It's Dick on speed.
Through a scanner madly
we're crap artists dreaming electric
Uranus wolf whistling in the eighth
and Pluto so horny but not gonna crack
in the fifth
because damn baby damn
that Sam I am
is playing favorites again
and we will never win
but bleed anyway
unto anemia
it's the American way.
We've got credentials in spades.
Let's do it to it.
Stars and stripes por vida.
Make that apple pie proud.

Wednesday, October 26, 2016




I can dig it.


Hello. I am a special snowflake from Texas.
I can write, edit, proofread, publish
...draw, paint, wash dishes by hand,
make organic peanut butter cups,
scrub toilets (I leave NO SHIT behind)
and tap dance.
I can also karaoke.
I'm white but I sing Billie Holiday
and sometimes Prince and sometimes
when the moon is in Taurus...
I'm interested in a residency.
You have to be rich.
You have to live alone.
You have to have plenty of space.
You will provide me with free room and board
and a stipend of $3000 a month.
I like to get pedicures and massages.
I like to eat red potatoes drizzled with shoyu.
Please do not expect me to be the dumping ground
for your neuroses...that's what your therapists are for.
Please do not expect me to feign interest
in your attempts at blood on the page and canvas.
You do not have any blood.
You are anemic.
That is where I come in.
I will provide your beige life with much color.
Plenty of blood.
You can take pictures and post them all over
social media to prove to your friends
that you have relevance and cool cred.
No one will believe you but motherfuckers
are good at lying these days
what with Mars and Pluto
conjunct in Capricorn.
Power trips abound.
I will not play with your puppies or kittens.
I'm allergic to animals and bullshit.
I will not accompany you to the hot shit bakery
for sixty dollar cupcakes and lattes.
You've got equally fabulous cohorts
for that sort of thing.
Sushi? Not interested. Thanks.
I can stay in the attic or basement.
Out of the way to do my little mad
foaming at the mouth special snowflake thing.
I promise not to melt.