some throwaway haikus

my feminine wrists
clipped nails expose aching skin
raw tip of my tongue

head in seattle
lungs filled with foggy pine air
minnesota heart

new portrait of you
drawn every day from scratch, on
my palm and eyelids

Dream Journal 9

i am sneaking around in a garage with a girl, i can't remember who. i think i dream this twice or i experience deja vu because i felt as if i had been there before. in the garage i see a few cars and they are both white with purble and black stripes and being cut up. apparently they are going to be molded together to make one super car for some mob boss.

i guess that makes me a private detective.

as we are sneaking a car pulls up and it is filled with the mob boss' cronies and they get out and walk into the garage. the woman and i hide behind one of the cars and must be absolutely silent, not even taking the chance of breathing.

the first time i dream this we stay silent. the second time she moves the sleeve on her wind breaker and it alerts the cronies. i realize now that the woman was bjork. when the guys come for us i fight them, punching stomachs and kneeing faces.

in the second time i dream this i found a motorcycle in the garage that looks more like a bicycle. i hop on it to get away from the scene and bjork hops on the back with me. as we start to drive away i notice, or a third person narrator tells me, that we are not going very fast at all. i think we are only able to go like 30 miles per hour. the narrator tells me that the motorcycle is powered by poetry and that to go faster i must bend over the side and write stuff down on the road as we drive.

i do this and we start to go much much faster. eventually all i am able to write is a long line of black ink. down the road we come to a quick turn and i lose control of the bike and it slides out from under us. we end up in a big field that looks like the park near my house but i guess more desolate and removed from society since we are in danger of starving. somewhere around here the motorcycle turned into a llama-like animal instead so it is also in danger of starving.
__________________________________________________________

later in another dream i am hitting a golf ball out of a bucket of rocks while standing on something that is rocking back and forth. a swingset or something but a large one. probably like the swings you have on porches.

i am trying to chip onto the green and my mom, dad, brother, and grandpa are all watching me. my practice swings all look really good but when i go to actually hit it i use too much power since i'm nervous and hit the ball over the green and into a snowbank.

to practice i am suddenly back in my neighborhood and hitting golf balls up a neighboors driveway pretending thats where the hole on the green would be. i have a device set up so i am hitting one golf ball after another and i think i am standing on a ladder. my brother is hanging out on a house off to the right and he is rolling around on the roof. both my parents yell at him to get down from there, my grandfather is no longer with us.

after i hit all the balls i go to collect with my dad and notice that a lot of other golf balls that arent ours got mixed in with the ones i was hitting. we were hitting titleist so that's the only one we tryand look for. after we find them my mom says we have a ton of gifts which are suddenly there and we need to carry home down the block. my dad says he will just get the car to pick them up and my mom says whens the last time we walked anywhere.
__________________________________________________

in another dream i have applied to and got accepted into Perpich. my first day we are going on a field trip but i forget where. i meet shannon and all the other lit kids in the lobby of some building with glass windows. it is raining outside so there is a very thematic image of water running down the windows in those slow waves. everything has a bluish tint to it and shannon asks me to introduce myself to all the lit kids. whitney isn't there and i feel somewhat vulnerable.

as i start to say my name and some of my favorite authors or poems some boy from across the room is talking over me and i get flustered and say "oh well nevermind i guess" thinking that shannon will tell the boy to be quiet so i can finish. this is not the case and everyone just sort of stops listening and talks amongst themself. i keep waiting for whitney to show up but she never does.

Author [ver 3]

longing
longing

outside my window
snow caught in the tiny streams
twisting flows
like fine fabrics blown
winter's writhing wedding gown
the tight precise arc
the rise and fall
impossibly quick

the intricacies of their pattern
paternal to my inability to see
beyond the grains of a tibetan mural
beyond the digits of universal equations
beyond the words of our last three years

lying
longing for the ceiling
to get caught in my eye
longing to seal in the art

with a sigh

am i the wind?
am i powerful and sweeping?
do i create vast patterns with glimpses of beauty
in little pockets so hidden
that only God could appreciate them?

or
am i the countless blossoming crystals?
am i racing to my resting in a concrete coffin?
a banal burial in the banks
bereaved
passing without a sound
without an inscape
without a sound

longing
longing
instress

Author [ver 2]

longing
longing
propped on one elbow
to face out my eleventh story window

outside
snow caught in the tiny streams of air
plummet
reverse
sideswiped
the tight precise arc of rise and fall
impossibly quick

the intricacies of their pattern
paternal to my inability to see
beyond the grains of a tibetan mural
beyond the digits of universal equations
beyond the words of our last three years

i lay back down
longing for the ceiling
to get caught in my eye
longing to seal in the
art

with a sigh

am i the wind?
am i a powerful and driving force
creating vast patterns with glimpses of beauty
in tiny pockets so hidden
only God could appreciate them

or
am i the countless blossoming crystals
racing to the resting in a cement coffin
dying without a sound
without an inscape
without a sound

longing
longing
instress

Author [ver 1]

longing
propped on one elbow

outside the window
snow caught in the tiny pockets of rising air
of slanting air
of diving air

the intricacies of their flight
beyond the grains of a tibetan mural
beyond the digits of a chess playing computer
beyond the words of our last three years

i lay back down
hoping the ceiling won't get caught in my eye
am i the wind?
powerful and driving
creating vast patterns with glimpses of beauty

or
am i the countless blooming crystals
dying without a sound
without an inscape
without a sound

Dream Journal 8

i'm swimming in an ocean of music reviews. albums that are rated really well are mounds of sand that stick up out of the water and i am swimming around them or climbing them and appreciating them. One album was my Swan Lake but it's one they haven't made one yet, the other is by Sunset Rubdown and it's one of their older ones.

Suddenly the ocean becomes my backyard and a campground. Other tenants are sleeping or pretending to sleep as a huge truck roars into the site. out steps a "hard" guy with a leather jacket and stuff and his babe of a girl friend who is a knockout in those old timey movies. As she is undressing (to go to sleep or to just tease other guys) the boyfriend marches around making sure no one is peeking at her. As he is doing this I pretend to be asleep and lay face down on the cold grass, a guy behind me is watching through binoculars and is dirty talking to her under his breath. I envision a fat greasy man in a white tank and a bald head but I never look.

The boyfriend walks towards me and I get nervous so I switch positions to get away from him but end up nearer to the girl. I still don't look and after the boyfriend fights some other random guy they leave together.

The backyard is now the inside of an apartment that Jackson and I live in. I am going to the bathroom and as I am peeing the boyfriend shows up and starts smacking on the door asking me to "Cut the bullshit" and to "Get out there to talk" but I have the door locked. I tell him to let me finishing peeing and when I get outside he is gone. Three asian girls are there instead talking to some asian boy who lives next door, he runs off saying he has diarrhea and the three of them turn to me. They have me sit on a couch and they sit facing me, their knees pressing down on my thighs and crotch and they tell me to say hello to them, so I do and feel like I am in a porn video. I don't like it and I suspect they are prostitutes working for the leather jacketed boyfriend. They introduce themselves so that I can say their name when I greet them.

One looks like an asian Amy Winehouse and says her name is Psyzombni but I have a hard time hearing her and remembering it, so I really don't ever say it out loud. The other one is shorter and more curvy and says her name is Ita as she bends at the waist looking at me, exposing her cleavage. I have a tough time not looking at it. I ask her if Ita is a nickname or short for something like "Titanium" and she says that it is a nickname but it is short for "Genitals" and I tell her that's a strange name. As we are talking I seem to have a lot more chemistry in Ita and the other girl seems discouraged.

The conversation I guess is boring them and they either have low attention spans or are just not interested in me so they decide to turn on Call of Duty but it's a television channel or show, not the game. Also on the television is a show where there is a static camera pointed at the facade of a house in the suburbs that is on 24 hours a day. I laugh and say we should watch that. I can't tell if I am seriously interested or mocking.

Jackson walks up to us now and puts his leg on the arm of the couch in a sort of manly pose. I ask him what he's doing but I can't understand him, or he's just making little sounds like "Ahhhhh yahhhh mmhmm" as the third asian girl walks up to him and he mock grabs her breasts. They leave to go somewhere else but I don't think it's sex.

At this point I get up and go do something else. I forget what, and when I come back the girls are playing a video game on a computer.

I wake up.

For Whitney 2 [ver 2]

a strange sun drenched beach
summer heat is pounding
pounding
pounding

shore holds the flame __________ to
rch gold and red
your savage feet
your pagan feet
pushing you back into the wil _dn __ erne ____ss
salivating salvation

the sea beck ons
washing over your feet
it is your savior and your christ
no
you are its savior and its christ
a holy trinity
eyes of a writer
tongue of a lover
lungs of a woman

cold creeps up your notched spine
with a terrifying speed
cool waves rush
rush
russhhhh
against your
calves in salt
thighs in salt
waist in salt
penetrating fluid fingers engulf
you in the gulf
you are the gulf

feeling flesh on the sole
fearful knowledge of the soul
a sharp sting ____of serrated shell
sole finder
soul finder
fingers penetrate the fluid gulf
sift the slow struck sand

ribbed and regal you surface it
pour the grains and the salt from its porous
chest
glimmer and smooth
poor us who don't find such treasures
hidden pleasures
wear it regally resting over your ribs
pour the grains and the salt from
your chest

Why [ver 1]

i keep wanting to cry
but my throat
its not big enough

i

please

sit with me
i need you

all those people
theyre dead
they cant disagree
or eat indian food
or love each other


its sweet
being alive is so damn sweet

What Do You Want Me To Do?

i want you to love me
i want you to love me because were not dead

i want to see you
and taste you
and smell you
just because i can

whats that you smell of?

Nostalgia.

For Whitney 2 [ver 1]

a strange sun drenched beach
summer's heat is pounding
pounding
pounding

shore holds the flame to
rch gold and red
your savage feet
your pagan feet
pushing you back into the wildnerness
salivating salvation

the sea beck ons
washing over your feet
it is your savior and your christ
no
you are its savior and its christ
a holy trinity
eyes of salt
tongue of salt
lungs of salt

shivers shoot up your notched spine
cool waves rush against your
calves in salt
thighs in salt
waist in salt
penetrating fluid fingers engulf
you in the gulf
you are the gulf

feeling flesh on the sole
fearful knowledge of the soul
a sharp sting of serrated shell
sole finder
soul finder
fingers penetrate the fluid gulf
sift the slow struck sand

ribbed and regal you surface it
pour the grains and the salt from its porous
chest
glimmer and smooth
poor us who don't find such treasures
hidden pleasures
wear it regally resting over your ribs
pour the grains and the salt from
your chest

For Whitney [ver 1] (layout is fucked)

like in all my favorite songs
our voices ssslllliiiidddddeeeee across telephone wires and over
the mountains of the west and their ex
pan
di n g
forests of deep green
under
the
rivers
i

i mean

the hot cr ac k ed black top
roads
that cut out the west
hard dry plateaus
carry the trail
ing echo of your laugh
my love

echo
exciting me
smiling me
writhing me watch echo
writhing you
echo
your b face
in u a
pil r low
y echo why

through the wires echo
a painful distance
words beck ohn you here
my mouth resting on your
neck
oh love
oh echo

Dream Journal 7

i was at dan's house and we were playing old school video games. it seemed as if he had recently converted to christianity or something. he had that really nice sweater vest feel to him of superb hospitality. he offered me a beer but i said no thanks which made him very happy. i will remember more of this later probably.


i had a pet grizzly bear and polar bear. the polar bear was out on the ice where i cut a hole so he could scoop fish from out under there. the grizzly bear who was in the snow on the bank of the lake or river got jealous and stepped forward. he weighed a lot more so when he got out to the ice, he and the polar bear both fell though. it sucked them down like a vacuum and left a really strange ripple effect at the surface. i dove into the water to try and find and help them but i couldnt see very far and am not a good swimmer. eventually i see the grizzly swimming back up at me with pieces of white fur in its mouth. i race back to the hole and surface just before the grizzly does. the polar bear has died.


in a dream from a previous night i was a woman. i had applied for some job at a corporate place but the woman working there never returned any of my calls. i end up going to her office and demanding an answer, after she ignores me for a long while i start to slap her face repeatedly. eventually she says that it is not out of fear of me taking her job but out of attraction for me. we start to kiss passionately as i push her up against the wall and she wraps her leg around my waist. i am now myself at this point, that is i am a guy now. i never get aroused while kissing her and never want to take it further. eventually some coworkers start to show up so i have to get beneath a blanket. i guess we were suddenly both naked. she runs into another room to get clothes on.

as the coworkers come in i am sitting down beneath a blanket. some guy with glasses and one of those idiot faces comes up to me and starts to pull it off for some reason. i tell him if he keeps doing that i will break his face in. he laughs so i rip the glasses off his face and throw them to the side and give him a hard stare. he stops pulling at the blanket.

For Fred [ver 2]

browsing through porn video after
porn video
an uncomfortable hot radiating from my shins
and from my back
a saliva sweat saturates my skin
flush folk guitar filter in through my headphones
making an aquarium of my teeming head

i wonder what the people on the elevator will think of me
in 10 minutes
will they know from a nervous twitch of my lips or
my anchored eyes
will they be able to smell my shame
my hedonism
my

sickness

my thoughts drift to Fred
like exhaust at a red light in December
i don't even know how the cancer took you
bones, skin, brain, lungs
maybe the lungs
i know how you smoked for the 50 years before me
but stopped with my birth
a new life for us both

and i do know how the illusion of this new life smelled
as you lied confused
in your own sweat and filth
on the cheapest looking bed from the hospital

i fucking hate that smell
a beautiful man reduced to
compost

i never get to the elevator

i leave the shower on cold

For Fred [ver 1]

browsing through porn video after
porn video
with the soul crushing sadness of Alela
filtering through my droning head
i wonder what the people on the elevator will think of me
in 10 minutes

my thoughts drift to Fred
like red light exhaust in December
i don't even know how the cancer took you
or how you spent the 50 years of your life before me

but i do know how you smelled as you lied dying
in your own sweat and filth
on the cheapest looking bed from the hospital

i never get to the elevator
i leave the shower on cold