omg middle class assholes
moving would be much easier
if we didn't own so many books
whose fucking books are these?!

To do and to say is to admit a desire, but to never have desire is the way a girl ought to be

oh me, friday night and here i am again

kneel at the window
in all of your furs
slither the spoon to your mouth

watch the emergency crew
escort a saronged woman into the back of the truck
it's not an ice cream ad, lovely
it's just you and your cheap dress

twilight on the northside of chicago, an underpass kind of gray
oh haha what a lark
to stand at ashland and clark
to stand anywhere really and holding your breath, plug your nose
and pretend you can't smell anything

oh me, the perfective despressive
i really ought to learn to let go
oh me, saturday night and here i am again
sorry i didn't say
"i know a real bed you can sleep in"
"haha the bed's mine"
"haha what'll we do once we get there"
i liked your peppered hair

is it that i like you quiet boys?
who wouldn't ever put a hand on the back of my neck
to grab the wisps of hair there
i mean my motto is
i can do anything
if only someone would let me
waiting for invitations
i'm too scared to put a hand softly on your breast pocket
too scared to lean in and breathe in your ear

if you're reading this,
i kindly request you force my hand
my wanting you shouldn't have to be a choice

there is always something that happens
to make a drunk look like an imbecile
rather than smart, smart!

well, so be it
as long as it is no more complicated
than taking my shirt off
and sopping it up

so i do
blue meets red
on the thread of dead lacquered wood
no one knows the obvious

a wedding
his family gathers near
children appear

i hear a girl in the background
and nearly roll my eyes into her
at the attempt to make childhood last in 2012
im typing and sipping

i toast to you little one
make it count
for me too

Post-Sea Punk or How to Get Dressed in the Morning

some thoughts on witch house/ghost pop/grave wave:
in honor of its predecessor shoegaze
for a while the genre was actually being called rapegaze
(before everyone realized this was a terrible idea)
and i think it speaks volumes
there's a strange doublevision of girlhood here
the girl is dead-eyed and vague, maybe already a ghost (hair bleached out, sallow faces)
so she is dangerous, suffused with revenge and strange magical powers because of trauma
(some sort of Madea)
but her voice is always thin and distant
just an echo of something more immediate
so she's nothing
or a wisp, a slip, and a hand disappearing round a corner

the trouble with the look
is that the candy-floss hair and spikes/leather/silk/tulle ensembles
are straight out of magazines
very high fashion and very expensive looking
and the erotic boredom is American Apparel all over
so any danger
is somehow mixed in with an infinitely purchasable "breeziness"
the rich girl's straightforward simplicity of good fabrics and shoes that last
very Chanel
so you know, it's very alive, in a yacht in St. Tropez kind of way
and witch house girls are dead

but here's the thing about fashion
you know, it's a man repeller?
apparently
you're not gonna fuck anyone
if you wear that studded headband and necklace of baby dolls that you've ripped the head off
and if you wear three layers of mesh
and shoes that would be still technically be flats if it weren't for the HUGE platforms at the bottom
and that friendly BDSM look 
so that's confusing

but also, these kids love dirty south rap
i suspect for no real sociological reasons
but because the droning, prayerful, psychedelic quality
(Weezy does not have to put down the Dextromethorphan)
IS BORING
like a perfect kind of boredom, a grown ups blowing spit bubbles
boredom
that feels transcendental - it feels great have nothing to do in the 21st century, it feels horrible to have nothing to do in the 21st century
so here's an erotic boredom that can be turned into purpose
with procreation I guess
if this were actually an AA ad
but these girls are ghosts
you can't fuck a ghost (unless you are one)
so you can't turn the boredom on its head
which all the symbols in the titles is really about
you know ≈Ω≈Ω≈Ω≈Ω≈Ω≈Ω≈Ω≈Ω≈ etc
make it hard to find on the internet
and no one will overturn your boredom

every time I listen to one of these albums I think about The Flu Season. "I've felt a lot. Many people have. Where I distinguish myself  is, I stand outside at night."

it feels important but it might just be the stupidest thing
dwelling in the cauldron of the internet
so sort of leftover from girls pretending to be super into horror movies to seem cool to boys
OR
the edge of danger
girls being celebrated for being sickly, perverse, out of control, unpredictable, murderous
is important or somehow new
a kind of self-drag that we've all been waiting for
OR
it's just a version of the Virgin Suicides girl
broken and unreachable
and not really a person
but a place for a boy to rest his heart

honestly, i don't know, i just want to wear some knuckle dusters

P.S. they're might be more to say on the subject of the spiritually empty use of occult symbols and devil things but i think it might just be trappings

i was not raised by many hands
i was not raised by trees calling out for me to climb higher
to dare to race the wind
i was not raised by many faces who knew my many names
and let me crawl on their limbs
and whispered the family histories of soil, rocks and grandmothers in my ear

i was raised in small rooms
and by equally transplanted squares of grass
i was raised by a few orphaned souls, a trundle bed and and a tall rusted fence
i was raised to think that everything can be thrown away:
napkins, houses, plants, old friends, cats, clothing, one's name, one's parents
and that i would.

but once the wind spoke to me,
and maybe once or twice i felt related to a story i read in a book
that i found in the tower that houses all the other anonymous books,
and the crying that often came late at night
kept me alive and knowing there were things worth caring for.
that needed to be found.

i may be new here,
but know that i come humbly.
know that i come hungry for the company of sounds
and for spending many nights with you on the front porch looking at the stars
and for rooms covered in the soft shells of time and dust
and for watching each other change and grow.

and i may not have been raised
to know this is the place i would one day want to protect,
but my heart knows how to stretch itself big
and my spirit knows pride in our pain
and my body knows what it feels like
to stand on the cliffside
alongside the family of ghosts.

sidewalk cracks and in betweens / life in a web

whew how the spirits of places guide our ups downs inspirations despair! been back 2 weeks in portland, bopping around writing hammering gardening dancing petting cats drawing pictures making epic dinners telling stories giving gifts.

hey you, wearing your nihilist craziness anxious ambiguity like a crown of clover buds and yampah roots, let's walk together behind the goats and watch their buttholes open and close like portals to another world where pooping is easy for everyone and we can digest much more of this world without being poisoned!

here's a question: what do we do with the products of industrial civilization and the industrial food system?
here's a question: how do you call yourself back home?
here's another one: when was the last time you did something unpleasant or hard for someone you love?
and: what plants do you use eat interact with daily?
and: how are you feeling this shift into august in your body, rhythm, state of mind?

hum, these days for me have been some HARDCORE HANGING OUT
which is also sometimes organizing & planning for the life and world i want to live in
i want for future children to live in
that i was called into being to help make
family-making without gettin wholesome
keeping my goodness and magic woven with nastiness and perversity
dancing out rhythms of place and being and priorities
drawing out maps of desire and walks

pshaw let me suck on your liver
taste the bloody dandelion root
drink milk-blood smoothies like i don't believe in the circuitry of disgust
raw testicles like the most special and most easy to put in your mouth
activate your third eye
touch your bones to help you remember their knowing
"your body evokes my body" we danced this
we danced slapped poked spun pushed edged this into being

what comes easily is not always because it existed before
but flows into existence because everything was ripe for its birth
already known and remembered even as as the most new just-imagined

ROOTS. BONES. MOVEMENTS. REWILDING. IMAGINATION. THE aRT wORLD. DROP OUT. AT HOME. ALIGNMENT. TENDRILS. LEARNING. BREAK. BUILD. WALK. SING.

an outline for stories i'd like to tell:
i. walking delicately in a web of beloveds / polyglamory and lessons on boundaries.
ii. moving from homelessness to homefulness.
iii. after death.
iv. nihilism and goat herding.
v. lessons from the hoop / dancing between the wild and the city.
vi. faeries and witches.
to be continued.

leaving soon to be moving again, back to the woods to the olympic peninsula to wandering to revisiting. lovin y'all like summer.

more thoughts on home from the vaults

may 6th:

well i grew up in chicago
and around the southern parts of
this great lake. but am i FROM here?

my lens on truth was the lens
of hyde park racial tension
of bare muscley oaks in winter
of freezing, thawing, boiling
of mourning dove and big skies
of friendly neighbors whom you don't love
of folks makin their life for their family

but is this as removeable, as workable
as the capitalistic/patriarchal/white supremacist/sexist
world&structures that i grew up in? those were also the lenses i was raised in and am livin it and i don't have to be attached just because theyre what i know.
...and that's it. what/where do i really know? no where. my body knows and loves many places, seasons, sensations. i don't know this land.

so should i decide to move to wisconsin, it could/should be out of desire to learn here,
not to "live where I'm from"
yes, similar weather patterns to my youth, similar trees.
but those were the only things i paid attention to.

live in a place that calls to you.
calls to you where you are at.

after a few months fermenting in the crock...

the last time i wrote here i shared lew welch's chicago poem
yesterday i found some words in my journal from my time in chicago...:

wednesday may 2nd. 6:30am at sheffield and addison waiting for a craigslist ride to madison who never showed...

I have to be hard, hardened to live in this place.
if i care about others, i'll deplete myself.

in this city the poor are spat upon.
 ignored, told they are stupid
and dangerous and sick and wrong
 thrown into jail if they don't get killed in the streets first.

the sound of the el
is the sound of my ribcage cracking
tears of shock and pain leak
from the corners of my eyes
and i weep for the lost everything

for the four of us waiting in a tunnel
deep under the surface of the streets
for a monster to swallow us whole into
its belly
for the operator who spends every night

it is this cleaving
this separation
which makes us unsafe

how do you go out to dinner when so many go hungry?

------------->and Dear you, oh longtime
                 woodlawn englewood garfield park
                      lawndale west humboldt resident---
what do you dream of?
what is your tree of life?

yo
i mean
i want to stay home
gnashing on percy pigs on my bed
and getting sticky fingers
because i'm not really eating
but sucking on em like somebody's watching me
and maybe shoving my sugar digits
down into my incomprehensibly neon underoos
twisting the thought of pretty boys who call me daddy all up in a tight knot in my tum

yo
i mean
caaaaaalllll meeeeeee
let's dress up in Lisa Frank and silk and listen to Robitussin dreams aired on the radio from Atlanta
we'll challenge ourselves to not touching intoxicants til the sun goes down
because
as you know
days feel loveliest when you are up early
and nap in the mid afternoon to smoke your first cigarette around 4
let's play "everybody's watching" and act accordingly
HEELS, DIP-DYE, INSTAGRAM, FOOD FIGHTS, WHATEVER, DUCK LIPS
and then around 9
i'll take something
you'll take something
so we can see the whole night
when morning rolls around
let's pretend we get paid to eat breakfast
"any kind of work is drudgery"

i'm not going down with the rest of the downtrodden
so put on your candy-colored socialite suit
act accordingly

what remains 

the sting and stink of possibility

a vacant room after the party

the flower rotting inwardly 

devours itself mid air

starting with its edges

i try to not feel bad

afterall this is the feast of circles

a snake eating its tail

no beginning no end

i am life 

and so are you

you are death

and so am i

but

this is also the hunger

and the ache leftover

when you eat a thing

you do not want

there is at least one person in the world who thinks of you every time they look at the stars.

Sex

do i pace this life upon

the same Chasm.

that deep Nothingness of

Unconnection

The Father.

do i cast each man to be his likeness,

as a Bearded Silhouette to abuse me,

to aid me as i perform

with each orgasm

his wounds

as My Own.

Little?

Death 

indeed.