danse à moroder

the man behind the matterhorn

may 2007

forest lake, minnesota

si nous embrasser?

chap stick

two and a half hours north

of monterey, 

exit.

stop.

gas station.

coffee.

okay. i'm awake now.

oh yeah, chap stick.

good 

call.

"didn't these used to be

just a dollar?" - lady at

the register

"they still are, 

actually" - me

*laughter for some

reason unbeknownst to

me* - lady at the 

register

*brief, semi-agreeable chuckle

in order 

not to be rude

or angry 

or irritable

after three days

on the road* - me

yes. two dollars

and sixty-nine 

cents for a stick of chap

stick is about

a dollar and sixty-nine

cents too much.

but what if when

i get there 

we 

kiss?

okay,

it's not too much

anymore.

dieu a une grande gomme

on the future of intercontinental ballistic missiles:

"well when we killed each other and asked 

forgiveness on the grapevine in a song, 

God said 'i forgive you, but this is gonna 

take some time. you need to grow.'

more than hollow words and promises

set to tunes played skillfully on the lyre.

something real, something sincere like 

tattoos of broken english on our arms.

i once saw a sign that said 'God

has a big eraser.' maybe he can help you and i

and wipe away all the murder, adultery, 

and fornication that we rung up

and if that's something i believe in, 

bigger things have bereaved me

like you. 

like you."

new song in the works. 

and i actually like this one. 

odd.

candide candide

you humor me today

june 2007

minneapolis, minnesota

j'ai fait ce à partir de z

untitled 002 (tentatively)

bring me your

poor your naked

and weary

your dead and 

alive and undead

now aside

we'll take them

back and surrender

the same

to walls of white

danger and

hammer away

but the day 

isn't long

as the night

now is short

while we're all 

drowning now

not waving anymore

you sneer and

you snap while

we break and

we crack

with vases and

jails broken

under our feet

this wisp of desire

moves us to

the river where

we came down to

pray and capsized 

in the wake

of progress 

they call it

and we're swept away.

i reiterate. i do not know french.

drive edward scissorhandsville, monday

talking sex and

relationships

from the back seat

of a volvo

our ears deaf and 

a-okay with

misgivings and hearts

on tattered sleeves

for the world to

see or at least

the three inside

the dark chassis

lit only by

the gas gauge and

odometer

and the dashboard

we tread on near

trampled roads at

the bottom of

the black end sky

and then went home

better off for

being honest

and being saved.

ville ville ville

first night in lost angeles

august 2006

los angeles, california

first tag - three years ago

height of teen angst // anger with God

underground fighting in newhall

we drew blood.

- dead

sur le dossier

on time:

this day last year

was a moving//strange//significant day. 

ascète? peut-être

until they wither and die

one day i want to

walk to a field some

where

where i will bring

everything i do not need

in order to live.

and in this field i will

dig a hole

and i will bury 

all the unnecessary things in my life.

all the vhs tapes

the lps 

the dress shoes

and boots of spanish leather

the pictures of owls

and airplanes

purchased at thrift stores

over the years

the books

the action figures

from my childhood

ponda baba and dash rendar

the nicks 

the knacks

the typewriters

the newspapers

and so on.

every last trophy of selfishness 

every monument to material

all the wants 

in place of the needs

i will cover everything with soil

pack it tight

rake it

and i will sow the seeds

to plant a garden

on top of the cache

and in weeks 

or months

up will grow queen annes lace

from between american werewolf in london

and the empire strikes back

lift your skinny fists like antennas to heaven

will yield white daisies

morning glories will lay down

their roots beside

bookends and bridge over troubled water

franny and zooey 

or hot water music

will produce ladies slippers

or chrysanthemums

and they will flourish.

children will come to the garden

with their mothers

and they will dance and play

atop the relics of my selfish past

between the petals and stalks

of the beautiful present

they will laugh and smile 

amid my materialism

and self-centeredness.

they will pick the dandelions

whose roots lay in a twelve inch

darth vader doll's chest

and they will give them to their 

mothers who will take them home

and treasure them

putting them in vases

or on windowsills or

dining room tables

until they wither and die.

oh - to part with the things of this world

in such a way

the earthly possessions 

that so often posses us

the things that capture 

our attention our

time our money.

just to be free

in such a way.

oh to be free.

bas

if you need a murderer

june 2007

minneapolis, minnesota

quintessence

so glam, eli john

june 2006

wyoming, minnesota

messie

messiah complex

i know this

man who has

this complex

this 

complex where he

always

has to have someone in

his life he would

save if a 

disaster were

to occur

at any given time

he needs

someone in his life

that would need

rescuing should the

worst happen

he 

needs 

someone 

to 

save.

it's not a God 

complex so much

as it is a 

messiah complex

i suppose

or maybe a 

savior complex

something

like that.

hello march

self portrait 002

september 2008

jericho, israel (west bank)