Monthly Archives: June 2007

Poem as Sandwich

Slice of bread
Slice of toast
Slice of tomato
Slice of life
Slice of salad
Slice of pickle (serrated)
Slice of meat
Slice of different kind of meat, maybe chicken
Slice of bread
Slice of toast
Plate (ceramic slice)
Slice of wood (the table, Margaret)
Slice of wood (the floorboards, Margaret)
Earth’s mantle, dog

Chamber of Secrets

There’s no shame in a coward’s belly
Only the residue of an education
Dogg speaks in abstractions, gets served by the old nemeses

Photo album
Sexual chocolate
Sexual soymilk
Beach volleyball

Old phone book

foo foo forest

I just googled the phrase “foo foo forest,” which I thought I’d invented, out of boredom. I love the neighborly vibe on my block. I like to hear adults with children have conversations while my windows are open.

I relaxed with one of my roommates while we both made ourselves seperate but equal dinners.

I put in a decent day at work. I had fake stress/ennui during the early evening, but it’s passed. The bad soup I’d made improved with time.

I started reading Viktor Shklovsky’s Energy of Delusion: A Book on Plot today. It’s about Tolstoy, who I’ve never read.

He has a lot of single-sentence paragraphs that are dramatic because they’re single-sentence paragraphs, but often will contain revelations of only minor drama. Or else the drama comes from their accrued significance, you know what I’m saying, they build on each other. It reminds me of David Markson.

Every literary work is a brand-new montage of the world, a new unpredictability, a new occurrence.

That one stands nicely on its own, though. A lot of them do. Forget what I said before about minor drama.

This is my favorite sequence so far:

The writer uses plot to cleanse the world.

It’s as if the world gets entangled and dusty.

The writer wipes the mirror of consciousness with his plot.

I wonder where I will be when I finally read Anna Karenina.


you see this right?
what is it
it’s a parcel
of weed
can I have it
I’m saving it
for the blog
why??? blog can’t smoke weed only wee can
fork it
you’re not getting any of this guacamole in that case
guacamole, weed, your teenage currency of desire does not move me
oh please what is this we’re “trapped in… a song”?

solid gold minutes of time hella elapse and another gentlemen is added to the salon by god
god: here he be, another dude for with whom to relax and speak your mind
abel: thanks mate whoops got some stout porter in my beard mmmm smells like “pussy”
god: i smote you and yr bad posture and yr weakkneed bad dreams etc
smoaker’s rep: hey fellas I’m smoaker’s rep I’m hired by kamel to make suer everbody’s got the cigs they need
smoaker’s rep: yeah so who needs em
smoaker’s rep: [shrugs]
fatboys: wipeout