$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

Easter Sunday 1996

 

Eating dinner, utterly alone
Camel wides, Icehouse, indolent phone.

Black lace tabletop, chop of lamb.
Blasphemy reigns, I curse goddam.

"Grey skies, tomorrow is tears"
Twenty-three wasted, seven beers.

Out of control, unwilling to cope.
Breaking all down, mourning my hope.

Made to suffer, lot in life.
Slave to adjust, perpetual strife.

Barbarian bastard, sonuvabitch.
Working the man, servant of rich.

Easter evening, brand new book.
In for the night, alone in my nook.