2. Dongle Bouquet

    Sometimes I wonder,
    if god would have named me
    the same thing
    if he knew I was going to be born
    and American.
    Does he know the difference between
    an RCA to stereo mini cable
    and an XLR to 1/4 inch patch cable?
    Would he call sauce gravy
    or gravy sauce?
    When was the last time he
    reminded my brother to call me?
    And what the fuck does he have to do
    with 273 girls in Nigeria and Michael Sam?

    [a poem I had to write without writing it down and recite for my last workshop with Marie Howe today]


  3. apparently my old url nikonico.tumblr.com is some sort of porn tumblr…



  4. we have a now pulitzer prize winning (not, that i’m sure that’s a true gauge of whatever) poet here at SLC, but he only teaches non-fiction ……..uuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh


  5. Ontological CliffsNotes

    Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate.
    Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!

    Is something I think
    my first girlfriend whispered
    to me under the pool table
    at my best friend’s
    mom’s new house.
    Is whatever I think
    on the Metro North
    passing through the Bronx
    painted in sunsets
    and strip clubs just visible
    if you look at the right moment
    crossing the bridge from Manhattan.
    The first thought,
    that precedes all thoughts when
    it comes to dating. When it comes to
    just sort of getting by anywhere,
    I want to advance dramatically
    the cause of freedom and peace

    with one single act of
    apathetic longing.
    Like a crab wanting to live
    almost forever in a tide-pool.


  6. (From Wednesday)

    For Maren

    I was so ready for you
    to let me fuck you.
    For you, when you
    call me a lover

    (I saw you looking
    over my shoulder;
    quivering to Johnny Thunders
    in the downstairs bar.)

    know you mean
    an okay lay,
    who won’t ask
    much except:
    why is it so hot
    in your room in January?

    Warmth is more
    loved than a lover
    and your curtains are more
    transparent than hollow;

    yesterday, I wanted to feel
    my mother;
    seeing her calling me
    isn’t enough sometimes—
    New York isn’t
    enough sometimes,

    when I see New Hampshire
    in squirrels and new condos;
    or in poetry readings,
    touching you with perfect


  7. for workshop this week, we’ve had to write a poem and send it everyday. i’ll be posting them throughout tonight and tomorrow

  8. catsonmyshoulders:


    comrade blogger, catsonmyshoulders may actually have cats on his shoulders now that he has purportedly adopted a cat, according to CNN

  9. GPOY

    (Source: pop-skeet)


  10. "In the end, glorification of splendid underdogs is nothing other than the glorification of the splendid system that makes them so."

    -Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia, Section 7