a muscular hydrostat on the floors of the mouths of most vertebrates

when we kissed our teeth clacked together.
your tongue was too big for your mouth, so I gave it a bed in mine.


my mouth is a motel room

demonstrated "appropriate" and "inappropriate" ways to use the verb "google"

heartless man
put me to bed
the most heartless
paraphrase of experience
jensen wilder




[cut and pasted as seen from my blog stats. these are search terms used to find me.]

The false keel was intended to protect the main keel from damage, and also protect the heads of the bolts holding the main keel together. The false keel could easily be replaced when it became damaged.

caught in the low report of her laughter
i found my shoreline (sand for the keel);
she made no attempt to breed it into domesticity.


instead, full-throated, she thrilled away like a loon...


later, perhaps too long later,
i flew from her.
i blamed the laughter.
the fact that she could not evolve further.

how how do what boo BOO!

what are you up to?
where are you going?
how is your second toe in on your left foot?
how is your 4,587th strand of hair?
do you like cookies, if so... which type?
what was the last can of soda you had?
why did I just call it soda?
boo. BOO!

be sure your thumb will find your mouth

nothing makes sense. you don't know what '樂' is.
pretty soon you remember the world has never made sense.
none of it.

allow this moment to be your freedom.

allowing the contents of the stomach to move upwards into the esophagus

when i talk to you over the phone. i pop a breath mint. i don't care how crazy that sounds.

It was more popular internationally and ultimately meant they escaped alive

I like the rain because you can walk out and cry in it.

You can walk for hours and no one will know you are crying, because it just looks like you have rain on your face.

Even if people do get close enough to realise. [Like when you stop at a crossing.]

It doesn't matter because they are trying to get out of the rain. They have somewhere to go.

So they don't ask questions. They just keep walking.

an electrically excitable cell that processes and transmits information

a shiver of neurons. a nudge of rain. a rush of leaves. a lift of goosebumps. a gather of shoes. a sneeze of cloud. a cough of whiskey.

imodium wont stop you talking crap

wherever you're standing say hello to the nearest person to you

if there is no one around then say hello to your inner child
or sense of impending failure.

this is not a haiku, but i am pro-haiku

when i am taking a bath
and submerge my head below the water
i feel like i'm being aborted.

objects are broken up, analyzed, and re-assembled in an abstracted form

a woman meets a man and says,
'oh, Dick. i didn't recognise ya!'

there are some people who never change
and others with a face like coastal sand.

Picasso had it right.
you can't rely on a nose being
in the place it should be.

i want to put my head up a woman's dress,
but with my eyes closed, because I'm not a pervert.

anyway, i think it looks like a nice place to sleep.

my ears on her warm thighs.
my teeth gently nibbling her labia.

adolescent boys and middle-aged men sometimes develop breasts

when we start going out we will be great together and never argue.
i will be a clothes-stand for your underwear. you will put your pants over my face.
i will wear your bra around my ass. then i will wear it like a mask.
i will be a home for your insecurities. i will let you eat cake with a teaspoon.
we will share more than our character flaws.

i will tell you that your flaws are the reason i like you.
then it will become clear that we are two different people.

with a different destiny. (if you believe that.)
at this point we will just be friends and try not to speak about love again.

one of the two standard special keys beyond digits 0 to 9

if i put three #'s in a row it makes two thick black lines
across the page in the word processing package i use.

i choose not to write about death very often.
i can say 'death' many times, but i will never
describe a death more than once.
if i can help it.

this is because, i have heard, (i believe)
that writers who write a specific type of death more than once
will die in that way that they have mentioned more than once.

i don't want to die. and once is enough.
i don't want to do a christ and come back for a replay.

if i was christ, i'd be a hit at parties.

i would smoke hash and perform palm readings

on girls 1,993 years younger than me.

i am already a hit at parties. (i believe)

YABBA DABBA DOO! would be an obvious title

when i think back to watching The Flintstones as a kid
i remember the animals the most.

the ones that were running all the gadgets they had.

like the mammoth “shower”. birds acting as "car horns,"
the "electric razor” made from a clam shell, vibrating from a honey-bee inside.

we use too much electric and too little eccentric.

it makes me miss the good old days.

humility shall escape them without more

this is a mild epiphany that will surprise no one.

if you climb a tree at exactly 2:51 in the afternoon
you will be able to see the moment you were conceived.
you will never want to climb trees again.
this is when you will realise you're an adult.

finally.

and in the distance, you'll see Anthony the Great.
there on the beach, no cave to hide in, stepping around
trays of silver coins.

a special 250 GB hard disk limited edition version

choosing an avatar as a starting point on the Xbox is like Sophie's choice.

parades of small men and women dance across the screen;
then they leave. live ones die in my search of a better version of them.

we're living in a post-modern digital Völkisch State.

man is defined as a human being and a woman as a female

equality is walking through a door at the same time together.

i always let her go through first (whoever she is)

because i don't want to get stuck.

i don't want to be fed by the royal mail

and have people take photos of our bums.

her bum looks so good

that no one would look at mine.

Feminism should aim to make doors wider.

insects that pupate in a cocoon must escape from it

leaves aren't even thinking about the fall ahead.

i am thinking about death; but in a good way.
like going to sleep, but for longer.

i can't believe, even for a moment, that anyone old
was once my age and possibly younger.

i can't believe i am this old already.

my skin feels like a pupa.

my soul is a set of house-keys that make
an awkward shape in my pocket.

as the process of giving formal notice to the world

when I am reading a book on the train
i try to hide the cover from everyone
even if it is stephen king or some shit.

i imagine the author catching me
and taking the book away.

i imagine the author running up and down
the entire length of the train carriage
screaming,
'i am the author of this.'
IN BLOCK CAPITALS.

i wish i lived in Brooklyn
or something.

a non-apology apology is a statement in the form of an apology that is nothing of the sort

sometimes i see people
and think

why did i let light enter my pupils
hit the photosensitive receptors of my retina
translate all that information into neuronal signals
and then use my brain
to put them back the right way up again?