QUICK! --> lucks

Quick Lucks is an online offshoot ofthe literary mag Big Lucks (also awesome),  and I'm lucky to be in this monday's release of the bodies themed issue. Please check it out and tell your friends! This is a sweet site, lets give them some traffic. The picture they picked for me looks like a crime scene photo, which like. Send someone a telegram about it. This site is a regular for me because their small releases of weekly short reads are more I-have-a-minute-able than most large online mags, which are more I-do-this-in-my-spare-time-able. Clean design, great works (if I do say so myself) and cool editors. I'll be sure to add these guys to my bio from now on, to spread the word in a back-around way.



Pop Quiz- How many made up words are in this post?

Answer is on the inside of the box.

AIM FOR THE HEAD (crotch)

So, I’m officially (sort of) a real (almost) Write Bloody (technically) author (oh that’s rich). Anyhow, neglected to post about this because I was wondering how many people would notice on their own! Counting me, zero! Just kidding, my thanks go out to Jess and Thomas for being creepy (almost) strangers. Your congrats were welcome, and in Jess’s case, a surprise, because I had not yet noticed myself that I made the Write Bloody Aim For the Head Zombie Poetry Anthology. Yes, finally I am to be forever bound in pages with the lover of my dreams (nightmares), Derrick Brown. I’ll say it again. He gets me going. Maybe next time he does a show in my town, I won’t be so terrified I run away when he jumps off the stage next to me. What was I posting about? Ah yes, kissing my own ass. Well, congrats to my buthole, it was fun. I have a little over a week to revise my entry, so if anyone wants to beta it, let me know. That would be awesome. Pretty sure I can’t post the entry though, so play password with me. Thanks all. Also, if you want to check out the music vids I recently (lazily) did the art for (crappy) here is a couple of 'em. Reno Plastic People.  Some combination of the above. Do it. (Don’t). This Joke (pun) is getting old.
By the way, does anyone have a recipe for brains gelato? I’m having Italian undeads over, and I need something to have after the lung linguini.
Preorder AIM FOR THE HEAD here.

When I realize that I take myself to seriously...

I would like to become a master of insignificance.
To steadily type the flowing language
that describes nearly nothing
and creates something.
I would love for the                                        poetry about simple moments,
unimportant things,
and unnoticed actions
to come from my hands.
But I don’t really give a shit.

5x5 Pissing

This one is for the 5x5 literary mag. It's pretty sweet, they give free copies to high school students. How much more epic can you get? Oh that's right, they publish a itty bitty book that is, drum roll please, five inches by five inches. I know right? You guys should all check them out, especially you younglings. Anyhow, they publish compact poetry, fiction and art in a themed issue. Obviously I’m disappointed that I missed the illumination issue…Oh timing, why must ye be thy bitch? Anyway, here is my work in the visitor issue that is still a long way off.

PISSING
He was here shortly, accompanying my single mother for uses
I know not what.  Perhaps he was just a friend,
or perhaps more. I don’t really care.
But he came into my house
and used my bathroom
and lifted the seat
and pissed
and left the seat up
and left the house then
and left the house different
from the way he had found it here.
I, dreary in the night, fell into the toilet.
In a house of girls, the cold seat was never lifted.
My mother’s visitor left long ago, but my ass is still wet.

Doesn't everyone need a short melodramatic poem?

One second of music moves by
and into the next.
If only you could capture that one beat,
the still air would stop
like insomnia of the eye.
The memory will be replaced
by the next second
and the next beat
thumps.
Thump
Thump
Forgotten.

Build a Better Man

I want to write about you, dear lover, so badly that I have made you up;
You are just enough fantasy in you to never let me down.
When you call me Dr. Frankenstein
know that I am stealing your wit and adding it to his face, another body and oh my god THOSE arms.
I will reel them into my head like a scanner, taking mathematical measurements and using formulas to pixilate the warmth that radiates off of your hand as you punch my shoulder, soldier,
as friends do.
If I lean on you now will you know that I am memorizing this sense of comfort so that I may cut and paste it into fantasy folders, only to be opened in my dreams?
When you push me far away
know that I am wiring the implications of your strength into my mind, because I want to remember just how much more powerful you are than me.
The dream man will use your strength to push me against a wall, he will use his arms to hold me against his warmth as I cry, his wit to comfort me, and his loyalty to give me something to look forward too.
I will look up from within his arms and stare into empty sockets, because your eyes say too much to compute;
You are the blue screen of death.
Reboot me because I need to build him up in my head once more—
There must be some way to create a better man than you, friend.

Remember?

Sometimes homesickness becomes timesickness, and sometimes it all becomes to much. The only cure for me is poetry
Remember?

Never put the heart into it like you did when you felt at home in childhood, violently ill when there’s a realization: the innocence left long before legs ever spread, before money ever mattered, before parents were just teenagers with crow’s feet:

so god damn homesick it hurts to breath this grown up air.

Remember?

Can’t forget, can’t return, and can’t sit still.
The most important part of being an adult is missing every single aspect of childhood.

I’ll give up the R rated movies that scare the crap out of me, I’ll give up all the sex I’m not having, I’ll give up the alcohol I never drink, I’ll give up the cars I’ve crashed, I’ll give up the makeup I’m chained to, I'll give up the songwriting that keeps the music in the air, I’ll give up the breasts I’m unsatisfied with, I’ll give up the fake smiles that are straight thanks to braces, I’ll give up the bubbly feelings shirtless men give me, I’ll give up the responsibilities I never asked for, I’ll give up the heels I pretend don’t hurt, I’ll give up giving up, I’ll give up the panties that grow more lace to cover less skin, I’ll give up the weed that….I’ll give up the weed, I’ll give up the dyes and torture instruments that makes my hair speak volume, I’ll give up the guilt I feel for road kill I won’t stare at but that I finally see, I’ll give up the razors that leave shallow cuts, I’ll give up the trust to be left alone that leaves me so lonely, I’ll give up never knowing what romantic love is like, I'll give up accepting that all dogs die, I’ll give up being kissed with tongue, I’ll give up ever going to college, I’ll give up art that means something but never looks pretty, I’ll give up run on sentences, I’ll give up having an affair with a teacher, I’ll give up the slap that he deserved,  I'll give up the understanding of war that makes soldiers just that much more attractive, I’ll give up the curses that let the anger out, I’ll give up the muffin top that was left behind by my love for muffin tops, I’ll give up knowing that old people really were as dumb as me once upon a time, I’ll give up cheap top ramen for Chef Boyardee, I’ll give up the phone that’s sewn to my hand, I’ll give up literature with substance in exchange for shitty unicorn and wizard books, hell-I’ll even give up PG13 movies because who cares about muttered curse words and some side-boob anyway?

I’ll give up feeling beautiful ever again if someone can just make me young enough to not care how I look.

Enough about me.
Who wants to hitchhike to Neverland?
Who wants to hop trains to the Emerald city?
Who wants to swim to the fountain of youth?
Who wants to dig straight down until we hit Narnia?

Let’s blackmail an elf into taking us to see Santa one last time. 
Let’s ask our imaginary friends for advice on staying young.
Let's rub a lamp until a genie sings us a number promising us all of the clock rearranging we want.
Let's take control of our dreams and forget we're sleeping.
Let’s beg the grownups to lie to us again.

 Let us forget all the things we’ve learned since we grew up, and let us go back to having nothing to remember.
Remember?


i take pictures of GHOSTS

Who knows when I started drawing less and playing with the camera more? All I know is that I could never draw something something like this half as well. How do you draw a glassy eyed ghost while the music literally floats in the air? You don't. You let the camera do the work for you, and pretend you know what you are doing.


Every Teenager Knows She Will Be Famous

Do you know what a sympathetic string is?

When all the folk ramble around, vibrations,
support with pity, music to cut off this scene,
You know the notes are letters spelling blue screen.
So it begins with percussion, revolutions.
sympathetic stereotypes, virgin solutions--
So you think my light skin will white out all the problems?
If you would ask me for a wide shot
we would procrastinate to a sweaty beat,
drumming in the dark, with respect I bought,
with vocal solutions, finally fought, I declare myself
the general of the thumb wars, my army will crush you
under heavy sexuality, hunching my shoulders.
I carry the weight of the word. Set it to the music.
Selling the illegal burdens,
innocence is flying off the shelves.
Buy white stamps to write letters to our future selves;
no, let’s forget we have one, pound the phantom beat,
we stomp our pale feet, we step on the toes of the dancers.
Naked on camera, the opera reminds us we are
post production fighters, pre pubescent  lovers
because that is just how girls say yes, yes.

I will answer the question: today- yes, yes.
It is summer without answers.

Conversations about Nothing

I took this yesterday...
Oh no! I'm becoming that blowhardy chick who thinks that pictures of ladybugs aren't shit! Quick, give me something emo!
Ahh that feels better. No wait, it's to dark! I need something artistic to balance things out...

Ok thats better... However, all of these have Lindsey's face! Give me something more accessible-

No, that's still to emo. Back to lindseys face!
Ok, that's gorgeous, but I'd like something more Madison avenue. Do you have anything that looks like a sneaker add?

Ahh, thats more like it...But it needs more pop. Can you give it to me with a bit of Warhol flair?
Oooh Rachel like. Still, all of these are of Lindsey. Doesnt she ever get pissed off at having her picture constantly taken?

Ah yes, I thought so.
Ok now that we are done with Lindsey, can we have something that brings it back to my own sensibilities? Like, say, a light doodle?
That looks more like a light signature and less like a light doodle...


Ok, that works...but it feels to emotionless to end on. We need something patriotic, something that says: America! The place where you can sit, have brewsky, and watch your dog and your bitch look pretty in the yard.
Wow, that was strangely specific. Happy Finals-Are-Mostly-Over day everyone!

Suicide Note

The other day, we were talking about the best suicide note you could write. I thought it would be great to leave some crazy demand that your death would guilt people into doing like: My final wish is that all of my siblings wear a pink sequined top hat every day for the rest of their lives. Is that to much to ask of the people who drove me to end my life?!
God what a great way to be remembered. But I ended up writing this because I liked the idea, and I think somewhere it turned into a poem.
_____________________________________
So this is what it feels like to have a dream?
It’s your fault. I blame you. I want you to feel as guilty as I did.
Tell the dog I love him. Tell the cat he was worth cleaning the literbox.
Tell them both I wish they couldn’t grow old.
Tell the men I lied with every shudder. Tell the friends they all let me down.
Tell the worms to eat me quickly.
I’ve finally got things to do.