how 2 make gud thtr - a knowledge aggregate

put LEDs in yr shoooos
aw who gives a fuck, tie LEDs in yr hair
spend yr $ on beer and give it yr audience 4 free
don't talk for hours
pretend that u make dance
tear up a picture of shakespeare
roll the pieces in2 tiny paper pills
and shove 'em up yr butt like a suppository
lie about everything
and always tell the truth
go to conferences of arts administrators
dressed up as the head of the NEA
beg 4 money
never hurt your audience
and if that means you'll never get to show them yr that one specific scar
then accept that
spend years learning to do one set of ten movements
turn it into a prayer
don't turn everything into a prayer tho
cuz that's fucking immoderate
KNOW THE LOCATION OF YR BELLYBUTTON
KNOW YR CONTEXT
get into youtube, but don't try to be it
know that grad skool can w8 and not w8 at all
go tell it 2 the mountain
put language firmly in your mouth
quote
comment
expound
exhort
turn away from everything in order to look back at it
lie down on the floor and lick it
hire fashion designers
2 be yr costume designers
and installation artists
2 make yr sets
FUCK EVERYONE
say
"I am the plumber, the architect, the lawn mower, and the sea. I am doing what we have always done. I am making it up. I read the rule book but I blacked the stupid bits out. If I say there is a shark in this bathtub, there is shark in this goddamn bathtub."
Throw shape after shape after shape
makes shapes
shatter any inconsequential or old-fashioned geometry
kill it out there
make this one a good one

occupy wall street is reawakening/springtime

String some lights between our eyes

Banners around our bodies

Forget the booze

We are the party

we are the universe thinking out loud
millions of exclamation points walking around

don't let them get you down, friend
it's your light that they came for, it's your light that they need

that easy brilliance
that silly sliding
the surprise and the rapture
the unpossessed laughter

the love of your self and of every fleeting feeling
don't mistake
they love your freedom
it's what they need
more importantly,  it's what you need

what a beautiful day
what a glorious mystery

don't let it get you down

spirit is now making house calls
we whisper in clammy corridors
i unstick my mind from itself
too many years of unlicensed sugarless gum
ok i will not worry. i will trust. what do you have for me?
let's talk.

and as my hair excites the air
they won't even look at my ass
but boy what they'd give to swim in my eyes
am i afraid?

naturally.

and astonished. amazed. in awe
awe
awe
aw my heart longs to hold you for small always

if i am to travel down the well,
i will come up for air.

the rain comes down
it spits itself clean
we are the mother licking open her creation

and as we wake, we are awakening, what will we remember from our winter dreams?
what did we learn from our insides? what spoke to us our spleen our ear?
they will love us always; will we remember them?

may we savor the answers that bubbled up from our sleep.
the sights and sounds that we found underneath.

may we visit the pond often, and love upon the glittering lily pad

may our hearts blush and swell
warm cheeks
soft, wet eyes

may we love like a rich hot joke

mm
don't worry friend, we will be free

mysteries

cresting, creasing into...

like that last moment between waking & sleep

when we remember how to trust...

ghosts scrambling into

recitations: will you still love me when i

disappoint you? will you? will you?

there's somethin shocking about

the newborn (goats!)

that knock-kneed unknowing

fur that is butter-soft, almost-summer-soft

bleating for milk

we older ones:

curds clinging to the 

corners of mouths

(some kind of sour, years turning, 

heat and cycles and thickening)

watchin the little ones battle their mother for her body as she parades away their jaws and sounds lolling i thought their mouths were full of blood except really it's the color, raw freshest red,
tongues that are only three days enchanted by this world. 

cry & beg for hot life running down yr throat while

the stillborn feeds the mud.

in ink and flood

hi tinder, welcome to the blog...!

and also hi to jake malone

who decided to cross through the veil

so i figure he's not too far away now. maybe closer than before.

and remember your words and your life are fucking powerful and important and so so much needed in this world--and please

don't stop now

Cathected Catharsis: A Fantasy

is love that
i don't know who has made who better
me or you?
or is it safety
and laying our throats open to each other's knives

tell me i've been bad
kneel behind me and tug my arm in a direction it's not meant to go
put your other hand on my windpipe
and while i choke
i'll tell you that you're desperate and pathetic and disgusting
and if you say
"you're one to talk"
i'll cry and your hand will move from my neck to cover my eyes
and if i grab for you
and you don't let me go
i'll keep crying
for mommy and daddy and my broken roommate and dead classmates and Trayvon Williams and my hung ambitions and girls boiling in their own rage and the little indecent things you have to hear everyone say and cluttered aesthetics and careless art
and you will get to take credit for cracking open my frozen heart
and you will get to sink your teeth into my shoulders so you don't have to bite anyone else
so no one will call you pyscho anymore
we'll all feel better
we'll tell each other we've been so good
we'll forget the language of crushing and spitting
forget "stupid, self-indulgent, ridiculous, childish, infuriating"
you were so good
you did so well
you did so well for me
the salt off our fingers still in each other's mouths
our stinky toes entwined