every where

she is

every here

I am

Prayers

old philosophers

are tired

of God's

heard enough

C +

Two friends on the phone, A in Portugal, C in Denmark.

A to be read in a flat United States English

C to be read by a native Danish speaker with an English accent to his English

A: I've been here five years by myself

C: Oh, well, then you're really weird

A: (laughter) yeah man, I'm really fuckin weird

C: (laughter)

() to be read aloud

You can't feel good too long

calm like you could do anything

need that one

sting that stems from another

weak

(quick inhale with mouth) after week

a pain shifting

(quick inhale with nose)

(hand gestures from region to region)

from your groin to your back to your chest to your throat

you breath deeply

(long inhale and exhale)

take over the counter remedies

reminding yourself it's

nothing

(pause)

then you feel good again

you drink and smoke a lot

(smiling) hoping

to feel like shit again in the morning

Staying Awake

if I weren't hungry

I wouldn't have

to fall asleep

Philosophy's

not what happens

She is

where

I am

here

listening to waves

reading zen poems

every where's

she is

every here's

I am

every sky's

the same

Another Day

you would expect

you would hope

then the lights

you're a lone

I write poetry because I don't like it

you
deserve
it

think they'd let you

drink and drive

if they didn't care

you can still

get your ass

kicked in Switzerland

it felt like
somewhere
when you took
that picture

we take

only

our chances

every day's your last
when your alive
you don't have to be
but neverthe less
everyday your alive's
one day we miss
take you for

god
lives
alone

I hope when
I go crazy
like my neighbors

Adam Smith's Grave

I love the number 9
not for its value
but for its spelling
much like I love
human faces

one dog barks
they all do

Sleeping Through Russell

sure as it's wrong
any physical law has a chance
if there were no reality
in a real world

the great philosophers
and addicts
will tell you
keep your distance
everyone likes a story

it's scary to be a poet
there's lot's of blood
and those who were
might still be

I'm sick of being
myself last night
we went to watch
the sunset something
I usually don't do

Letter To Another Friend

had dinner with austrians
the sound of austrian economics
will kill you
I love killing with armies
when I was young
we didn't kill anyone
I love killing
I love getting high
and killing
and waking up and wondering
I love killing with guns
how after killing with guns
I love to kill with bombs
I love to kill you I am
living to kill you I will love to kill you

Soon it will be
an hour ago
and I will have
been having had
an hour to kill
in the airport
there on time

at the mercy
of what

God And All That

's the question
why does God
's not the waves
or the rain
the fact 's music
's the poetry
's when 's where
's when's 's really
's where 's when
's why's
no choice
HA
's magine that
's yous ain'ts
's livin in a bar
you's ain't
livin in a bar
gots cleans
the puke's
livin in a bar's
gots children
livin in a bar
gots frontier
gods when
will it end

When I Kill Myself I Will Kill Myself In Amsterdam

nobody can itself improves wishes then a amsterdamer be time is no longer than a dog to the oar go lie or will sit on that spot and do further or you do not exist by time you can call you do not do as snow for the sun the first day large panic was, nobody said we will live and do what we want first people stood where they wanted be he/she forgot as from the first hour that firstly the tale of people who you are how he and they are as particles in the man machinery of city and country how live to live a phantom language became stone and leg which belonged to each other in that Scottish and crooked world chamber of the 21ste century with all to the same red wire says how it is remains too high seized time is a type what brain in the war holy must a much propeller twisted too permanently as time hangs out your throat words talked bullshit with plat to take part in a conversation and differently appoint not seized from living but there discreet let down in time that appointment not to come too late an adoptive word by everyone uses to agree something with a earthly voice that in no reality what is possible time as inner tube which ventilates keep must with a rubber saw knock together want from day and night time as a fissure in a splendor moment an excited bell which stops each time time, an elongated tone that virtually inaudible is

There's A Light On Somewhere-1?_2

Jesus
proved
executed
properly
anyone
can
reign
apparently
dead

After Listening To Recordings Of A Poet Who Died Yesterday

when I returned
nothing was
in its place
not even the cat
was still black

The Moon

copyright remains with the author

decided to make my living
moved to New York where
decided to make my death
moved to Copenhagen
the drunks have their bench
decided I was dead
moved to Amsterdam
crying My God
in several languages

what's life with out desire

waves hello
waves goodbye

Toxic Poetry--Exhibition 2

I try to not go
to the states
because I
do not want
to die there
same anywhere
here I'm alive
don't want to
live where I die
canada also
mexico nowhere
I've rarely or
never china
in amsterdam yes
because I have

After Falling In Love With Anne Sexton

the sea's the sun was
that's why it's poison baby
smells so good that greek dust
that roman rope really
really

A. B, c; d: e-f—g? H! I/j\ “k” l' M n_o (p) [q] {r} s...

I am the world's leading manufacturer
of engineered and advanced material
products and I say let the world advance
in the development of engineered
and advanced material products

No Poems About Poetry

they were wrong about us
we them
they had our best memories
not our best
future in mind how could they
see the end
for the wave of where they were
because surely
they could have been any one
the decision's
made the anguish to name
to be specific
and from this built a great nation
abides
but of the better century

Letter To A Friend

I'm sorry I haven't written
we too are crawling out
of days and earthquakes

The mightiest military's
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb
no match for one car bomb

March

the month of the death of winter

the night he died there was lightning and a full moon

I knew it was only a matter of time since that dream

I had of him saying he had a flight to catch

Old mister young's alone

finally gone away

sits under a palm tree

staring at the ocean

lost in the off season

of his half crippled steps

strange the things people dump

on the side of the road

I've never seen any trash

dumped around Amsterdam

there it's all about

what god can't see

if you put the garbage out

on the wrong day they

tear through it looking

for anything

with your name on it

even the Nieuwmarkt's junkieless

the Red Light Districts's

half mannequins people

move next to bars and complain

about the noise

strange the things people dump

on the side of the road

no if I've learned anything

I will not

when you call

I will however

a short

documentary

shame on you

for watching

Old mister young thinks
society's it's own
punishment

old mister young's
been married
at least
before the war
old misses young
lost in department stores
gets so frustrated
old mister young
reminds her young
he repeats young

old mister young was watching
the ducks at the cemetery
sitting in his car with the radio on
and the heat off
an old hairless man who
in the eyes of the church
was never young

Old Mister Young
has never seen
the ocean not
even the Hudson
dry is the skin
stretched
around his skull
the hairless skin
bunched up
where his neck
meets his collar
summer he thinks
as he shovels
and suddenly
backs the Cadillac
into a fire hydrant
see how the water
really beads on its
wind burnt hood
its ever chapped fenders

old mister young protests

winter's come early

stands at the end

of his driveway

with his shovel sweating

all's white and nowhere's

plowed 'cept that road

back up behind

potter's field

where the dogs bark

day and night