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The center had thinnedSo, I am here, andAcross the uncanny, inadmissible streetThere is a reality out there —Where you chose to makeYour small ceremonyAn inexpensive shameOn a slightly dented can. It had nothing to do with meSo, I went for a walkTo let the ordinary world remind meThat I am completely over hereWhere the only
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Though we couldn’t find a way To stay together forever, In a shoe box I keepAll your letters —Scraps of dense lined paper torn around the edges, with little-to-say squarish play, “Morning. Here’s your lunch for today””Good luck with that nasty paper””Off to Montreal, I’ll see you later.””Rough winds do shake, the darling buds.””Out fishing,
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To stop the frog-boiling, I learned about the gang-stalking. Then I divided the firesInto intrepid bitsAnd they became smaller And smaller, and smarter. And self-conscious. antifa is run by the DoD. dinos are run by big oil in Vienna: Havanna syndrome the CIA station chief was fired for ableism, and the earth that the dinos
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Billboard #1 said SOFTWARE ATE THE WORLD. NOW WHAT? And I thought of Barry Plunker Adams, Peter Coyote, Shiva, Vishnu, and Don Quixote And I remembered to “writhe upon my page, In a veritable rage Of adversity” and To remember the optimism of disruption, A still-life startup eruption. If this city had a billboard, it
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You smashed through my house, Like a comet dressed in black. Your blonde hair – I wanted to pick up its strays, a sun I looked up and wanted to curse at, and worshipand maybe set on fire. Yelling at me about something – The price of beer, a bad business deal, A whore who
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Reno man, I love you Reno. Meet me in 1926.Your life ends on the Lincoln, When I leave for a bigger fix. Your mama touched my knee, With her leathery fruit bar hands, Asking if I’d build her a platoon And inherit your father’s land. She made me a coat of rags, Sewed with New
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Love is as complicated, or as simpleAs delivering closed Lillies to the doormanTimed so that the first one bloomsWhen she realizes they’re from you
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You don’t want a good girl like me, Don’t need fixing but I sure need loving, I’m wanting, needing, laughing through your face,And I’m not even that good these days. I’ve got that old world bounce, And that old world nose, but if you close your eyesThink how we would look, there’s nothing there to
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I’m a bad dog in the pound I’m the baddest apple in the tree I need to be put down Being bad makes me so happy.
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Some men, cursed with a love for scarcity…If I have felt you before, and remember this taste That leads me on, and gets me up, overflowing Coffee, two rivers touching my toes, Smoking too many cigarettes, Abundance, peaking out even fromThe reflection of skin in the Essex turnstile, The Jersey skyline, tennis balls, dirty riversIts
riska.dog 