]]

i can't read you

but i want to.

*******

don't forget yr bag of

cheese cloth and marmalade jam

made by your uncle

2010

///

get outta my newsfeed

get outta my lane

get off my lawn

get outta my face

lingerie party

The hushed mostly church girls softly spoke on matters principle to topic, chiefly (upcoming marriage, honeymoon)except you know everyone was thinking about the big S word, sex.

whether virginal or not so, it was the subject, the thing, the thought lingering within minds imaginative, picturing themselves with another, how that would look, how awkward this bride to 3 weeks be would hurt since she didn't even wear super tampons. wtf we all were like. talking of the gynecologist. she modeled her corset which looked the sluttiest thing I've ever seen on such a 'pure' girl, barely over twenty. so 'godly', such natural beauty from within. she was hesitant to appear before her lingerie party, merely her wedding cast, closest girlfriends, adopted? foster? sister/ mother and then there was me- uninvited but came with a friend anyway who had been. I didn't bring a present, I ate the cake, I drank 3 cups of the pineapple punch, listened and participated in slicing the thick air of questionry, dull personas, shy speakers, and a quiet bride.

I asked, so how many kids do you want to have? where do you want to live, where will you live?

Pushing away good riddance to the 'they're gonna do it' idea/ mental scene which had plagued my mind for ten full minutes. She answered polietly, pleased to move (away) from such private subjects.

________

I told her to shut it, that she was acting like our

dad, but to her, our dad was our 'father'

and not even that, he was a stranger. the

kind of stranger you do not want to meet.

she shut it. then, she ceased to be a

bitch. that's all it took, just say something

about our stranger father and the subject

changes.

whoa

punk mc-cute my zipper keeps coming

undone I'd like to play piano you know

but you motherfuckers smoke indoors

y're on yr cruise, sick rich

I am on a ship I am passing mtns

the ones with snow caps, the ones wearing those

The sun jumped over the mtn down to

horizon haus, the place it disappears

and conceals itself under a single

horizontal line

this ship feels mammoth but when you

look up you realize the size of yr

surroundings

buncha brothers talkin' bowt blank

can't decifer, engine trouble, something Davis

sea bucket hat, tooth pick, glasses

"tie yr britches son"

"he was interrogatin' her, but she was interrogatin' you"

the sun grins on sailboats, tug boats,

the boats returning the glare, reflection

you want to know whats in my mind, No

you don't

punk mcCutie, wolf sweatshirt, black skinnys

teal shoes, lime laces, porcelain earrings

hightop

urban outfitters

fucking hipster, hipster

I want you rat tail cutie

How boys learn about flowers

from forms of poetry course, take a title (somebody else made up) and write a poem

"How boys learn about flowers"

[Boy speaking -> May 1930]

She pushed me into the daisies

we got grass & dirt

on our shirts

I remember vividly our rendezvous

I remember her

yellow bloom(ers)

June 13 hawt sprangz w.Aut & Jeremy

The Arkansas Summer

no AC in this toyota, that's just the way it is

the way it was back before modern

amenities, grannie remembers, it ain't

that bad, it's all you know and well,

you get used to it, it's normal, wind blown

hair is alright. esp. if you have short

hair like me. I don't give a shit.

55 North (observations on a road trip to Cape Girardeau, MO )

55 North

soy fields

rusted barns barbed wire fences

old rotting trees, concrete tower

lavender highway flowers

dotted line tall sky cumulous clouds

powerline

Popular Bluff exit Chicago

2 miles

Dexter Exit something B

city limit Sikeston

there's a new king in town

now entering Scott county hoo-rah

hoopla

Miner water tower/source

30 miles to destination

Cape Girardeau, MO

wedding plans - who's the man?

Thank you come again

from my yellow journal,unedited

Seattle, your air is crisp and cool

city streets

hella hipsters

grannie touristy feeding the pigeons

we are obviously not locals

I may be in my grey tone-monochrome

sequin shirt, my horizontal striped sweater

Speciality's Cafe, tasty delights

cutey hipster jesus across the way

SASSOON Union & 5th St 9:34 am

waiting to open

tones of fixies, everyone wears a helmet

no bones about it

reminds me of europe June 24, 60s in the

morning 70s in the day

me & the white rabbit are going places

leaving the South

suffocating, suffocation by bible belt

there are no fat turds here

lemme meet a washington boy, plz.