A Constant Cold

I'm sure I'm quite tired of writing about

myself and tea and now

soy milk because there is this cancerous

tomb of a family about me my father

and my mother's mother and my uncle too

and my aunt

had her chemo and has a lovely head of hair now

and I say Repunzel, Repunzel

let down your long

life! [we say to ourselves]

and I will grab on to it hopefully

because all this business makes me feel like

my thoughts have some place in my body now

but fuck I'm a bit young to worry

Don't You Think?

Frankenstein

Young guns

carry clean guns

in fast cars.

Yellow tape waves like

the banners of heaven,

blood flecks are new-age graffiti

painted on the faces youth.

Youth who stand in a hospital doorway

clutching a bigger hand

while doctors use electricity;

try and mimic Frankenstein

-- there are shocks

one, two, three,

clear

one, two, three,

clear.

Sparks ring out just like gunshots

a sick thumping sound.

Skeletons dance along the riverbank,

you can hear splashes if you listen.

Solemn-faced men announce the names

live

on-air.

i google
james roday
shirtless
nothing happens
so i google
james roday shirtless scar
there is a picture of a cat
i hate the internet

ghost

my ghost left me last night
we were fighting again

he borrowed the blue prius
needed to clear his head
not sure how long

central was empty of course
here, ghostly sustenance:
streetlight coronas on
filthy snowdrift
unlit letters CHINA MOON

swooping slow on main hill
those curves those
sightless lowlands
oldest friends

the unseen horizon
twinkled its cities at him

here mountains flatten away and
juniper bushes
spaced at perfect intervals in the dark snow
mirrored by the stars
that shatter an orion sky

just before dawn
a thick-muffled thrum
of KUNM

electric car
ghostly-quiet
crunches into the driveway

who wants some breakfast?

the state of world affairs

Julian Assange woke up with a heavy heart. He flew to America even though he knew it was probably a bad idea. He noticed the man next to him on the plane was reading about 'cablegate'. He winced, then wondered how the man could be on the internet on an airplane, then said 'oh yeah it's the future', then put in headphones and fell asleep to the magically soporific accent of the southside BBC newsreader.

He slept for a long time, so much so that when he awoke the place behind his eyeballs hurt and he felt heavy and empty at once. Julian Assange thought about Hillary Clinton's face, about her body, about their 4:00 meeting, about her obvious displeasure with him. He wondered 'does Hillary Clinton like to be handcuffed with novelty handcuffs?'

Hilary Clinton is handcuffed to an expensive cherry oak desk and calling foreign embassies on her iPhone to warn them about the cables. They are leaking. Julian Assange fucks her softly from behind. He grins and scrolls through 251,287 government documents on his iPhone.

Hillary Clinton murmurs the words 'unprecedented internet leak' and 'I strongly urge you'. Tears line her sagging eyes. Julian Assange alternately whispers 'hush dear' and 'freedom of information'.

They come in waves.