$50.00 Poem - 2 mpegs - 10 lanes of explosions - 20 blocks down broadway - Anything but snails - Because of Ben - Before my girlfriend - The Bastard Son of California - Blood, white and blue - catskull balcony - Civic Lessons in WINCity - damned awareness - Dead rock babies - Delicate hat girl - Easter Sunday - the end of the Internet - Every day except weekends and holidays - The fall of America will take place inside an am pm - fucking loved ones - girls girls girls - I Am Not A Political Poet - I Grew Older - incapable of a coffeestain - July 4 - La Jolla I & II - Lad - Lines composed 35,000 feet over Wichita, Kansas concerning unimportance of a crafted scapegoat on March 26, 2001 - Miller and Mayhew - MPL - My friends - My girlfriend's bed - no rest for the wicked - nothingness - the obligatory low - On giant chickens - On the corner of Rosecrans and Midway - Out Here - People who stalk - Perhaps it's television? - A Poem Not Called I Want - progression - Sunday Siempre - then - turns to sex - worker>machine>product - wrote counting the hours - wrote in American lit - wrote on my resume - variable the outcome - zeitgeist

2 mpegs 2000


i downloaded two mpegs today

 

the first was of sex

in a pixelated video

of a bright white room

two men were standing over a woman

with blonde hair

thin and natural

she was on her knees

and they were shoving her head

down

on their massive cocks

she was choking

spittle came out of her mouth

she made sounds

as is she were being beaten

and she looked through my computer screen

directly at me

and as saliva spewed from her mouth uttered

“I love sucking dick”

before she was shoved back down

and this time too far

her eyes bulged out

and it was obvious

she couldn’t breathe

her face became desperate

a glimpse of panic

just before she choked out

the faceless men who held her

releaseses her from their force

and as she pulled the dick out of her mouth

vomit came with it


the second was of violence


black and white grainy film

a scared Russian soldier

on a dead leafy ground

with a big black boot pressed to his throat

muttering a foreign language

easily understood

and the faceless man whose boot it was

brought a knife into view

a knife with a short curve at the end

resembling a reaper

and the man pressed the knife into the soldier’s throat

the screams were gargled

and short

his blood spilled out onto the nature with the force of his pounding heart

and the faceless man twisted the knife in circles

and a sound that reminded me

of when I used to clean fish

came out of my computer speakers

the knife was pulled sideways out of his throat

so that the skin of his neck ripped like fabric

and the blood spilled out in a fan shape

over the cold Chechnyan ground


Though in essence I was taking in information

I felt worse for my enlightenment

and less the man I was when I double-clicked