t. walls

2012-01-11T00:38:00.000-08:00

2011-11-16T00:21:00.000-08:00

This bone is wet

2011-04-13T09:22:00.000-07:00

When you are scared and wondering
what goes on in woods
you quietly notice your boots on the wrong feet
as you look down while pissing in the soil.

Something in your mind is withering.
Yet, the fungus climbs,
the loons screeches,
the ice covering the lake cracks

2011-04-08T09:14:00.000-07:00

2011-03-22T11:41:00.000-07:00

2011-03-20T11:34:00.000-07:00

A long day of swimming with your eyes open in pools laced with chlorine. Belly up. Lump in throat. Tan shouldered bunny-eyed lazy queen, sleep weak til that early morning, warm body in the bed symptom passes, passes, passes.

ORALIA

2011-03-15T11:23:00.000-07:00

double consumption of the mouth as eye, ingesting.

infants (speechless)

members (remembered)

The sap on the side of the tree in driveway, knotted in dark black hair

dog patch

2011-03-13T11:51:00.000-07:00

Paradise Stressed

Bells in our throats pressed

Tongues on the roofs of our mouths. Scent is a soft branding iron of felt, or moss, or a thick native american wine syrup, or a pincecone stuck in the honeycomb-like heel of my light brown hiking boots. I'll leave this all out to dry. Outside between oaks branch, chainlinked fence, damp couch on porch, cigarette, litterbox, sweet smelling grass. Hung dry.

Numbed in a distilled coma, falling into it, high on Ophelias last breath alone. Feels like when the fingers glide down a wet fishing net, grabbing for a minnow caught from a ditch in the front yard.

Porcile

2010-05-04T15:37:00.000-07:00

Georges Bataille

2010-05-04T00:45:00.000-07:00

Untitled drawings for Soleil Vitré

"An abandoned shoe, a rotten tooth, a snub nose. the cook spitting in the soup of his masters are to love what a battle flag is to nationality.
An umbrella, a sexagenarian, a seminarian, the smell of rotten eggs, the hollow eyes of judges are the roots that nourish love.
A dog devouring the stomach of a goose, a drunken vomiting woman, a sobbing accountant, a jar of mustard represent the confusion that serves as the vehicle of love."

2010-04-22T12:44:00.000-07:00

I had this bitch you see
She made lies to me
Her deceit ah, it gave me a chill
But I found out now
That baby, that baby ice dog

She said we would wed
In Mongolian country
Lilies shoot free
But she was a-stoning me
In the mountains, no
Her intent it was all too clear
All too clear

It was quite a sin
How the ice caved in
I was numb
I could not assist
Baby ice went down
To the cold cold cold ground
I said "Baby...that's the breaks"

Turn me around like broke down hound now
Crossing me once too often
Now she's bound for a lower station
She crossing me once too often

Hey baby, don't cross me, baby
I'm bad

And now the ladies all fear this Mongolian man
With ice down his face
You know I get involved
In unnatural acts
With the aid of my cold cold stare

They'd like to make it
With my big black dog
But they just don't know how to ask
You know they'd like to try
Anything that comes into their minds

Ahh, Freeze on now, baby

Freeze on freeze on freeze on bone to bone
Freeze on freeze on freeze on
Freeze on freeze on freeze on bone
Freeze on freeze on freeze on freeze on

-Patti Smith

peels

2010-04-21T15:27:00.000-07:00

coming down saddletops or whiskered.

The pull of cornrows on a pale scalp. liked the way I could feel the skin lifting off the surface of the skull momentarily.

girl, float down through the smooth splinter
get taken, get the long fevers

situate

our deaths like coats
handed back to us one by
one out the door and into the cold

2010-04-17T10:58:00.000-07:00

2010-04-04T23:42:00.000-07:00

2010-04-04T18:37:00.000-07:00

2010-04-03T12:50:00.000-07:00

"A wooded island rang with sounds, of church bells in the throats of hounds.

2010-04-01T18:42:00.000-07:00

A buck leaped out and took the tide, with jewels flowing past each side."

A little project/experiment with 31 pieces of jewelry in my new home city to keep occupied while waiting for a job to appear. Using many of my own photo/drawing/painting images. Sold two already, still keeping fingers crossed.

(Burlington, Vermont @ Battery Street Jeans)

2010-03-31T17:33:00.000-07:00

2010-03-27T17:20:00.000-07:00

2010-03-27T16:42:00.000-07:00

tall sapping woman,

2010-03-26T02:47:00.000-07:00

the bow of the ship pinned to my scalp. pole and ate. passage coughing, sprouting this impossible rut beside two battery acid spirits. enjoying that texture on my lips. yolk tide, when the sun itself is this ointment with this dreadful stiffened press. I have to use force for this. mix cheap vodka and milk.

frozen beach

2010-03-25T04:31:00.000-07:00

2010-03-22T22:01:00.000-07:00

'Boil some urine, gaze, gaze, eagerly at the lead'

2010-03-18T01:33:00.000-07:00

Camel's skin is blistered or something lodged into its skin, looking at it, like tapping my knuckles on an old empty metal canteen.

dropped on the table, slit in the underside of the fish, pulling her head back eyes rolling upward, taking the gall bladder
from the fish and placing it onto the eye, a gentle and accurate motion, sort of numb , feeling a coolness on the white, bottom lid quivering.
drawing a large "H" in the air with a finger or something laying around to test sight. gall bladder slides off the eye and onto
the cheek and sticks.

2010-02-12T20:21:00.000-08:00

2010-01-30T19:06:00.000-08:00

river's coathanger

2010-01-20T19:03:00.000-08:00

2010-01-09T22:00:00.000-08:00

2010-01-09T13:33:00.000-08:00

fermata

2010-01-06T22:15:00.000-08:00

2010-01-02T21:33:00.000-08:00

2009-12-31T13:55:00.000-08:00

2009-12-30T13:49:00.000-08:00

2009-12-29T13:39:00.000-08:00

2009-12-27T23:32:00.000-08:00

2009-12-27T18:20:00.000-08:00

2009-12-27T09:32:00.000-08:00

2009-12-23T09:35:00.000-08:00

2009-12-20T16:24:00.000-08:00

Far slinking

2009-12-19T02:44:00.000-08:00

Weed, or Shot of
Grease — Parturition — Sprain of the Loin — Blind Fist -
Withers brittle — biting the crib— the Jugular
Vein after Bleeding.

Cracked Heels— Grease— Swollen Legs— Breaking Down
— Contraction of the Back Sinews —
False Quarter — Fever in the Feet — Prick of the Sole — Quitt — Sand
crack — Splints— Thrush — Curb — Ring - Side-bones — Thorough-pin— galls— Broken
Knees — Open Joint — Tread

Chronic Disease of the Wind

Dropsy

Liver Salt

2009-11-28T23:06:00.000-08:00

2009-11-24T22:57:00.000-08:00

(found photo, Smith Falls, ON)

tendon

2009-11-22T21:43:00.000-08:00

2009-11-12T19:19:00.000-08:00

2009-11-12T19:13:00.000-08:00

from In Praise of Hands

2009-11-12T18:34:00.000-08:00

"Firmly planted. Not fallen from on high: sprung up from below.
Ocher, the color of burnt honey. The color of a sun buried a thousand
years ago and dug up only yesterday. Fresh green and orange stripes
running across its still-warm body. Cirlcles, Greek frets: scattered
traces of a lost alphabet? The belly of a woman heavy with child, the
neck of a bird. If you cover and uncover the mouth with the palm of
your hand, it answers you with a deep murmur, the sound of bubbling
water welling up from its depths, if you tap it's sides with you knuckles,
it gives a tinkling laughof little silver coins falling on stones. It has many
tongues; it speaks the language of clay and minerals, of air currents
flowing between canyon walls, of washerwomen as the scrub, of angry
skies, of rain. A vessel of baked clay: do not put it in a glass case alongside
rare precious objects. It would look quite out of place. Its beauty is
relatred to the liquidthat it contains and to the thirst that it quenches.
Its beauty is corporal: I see it, I touch it, I smell it, I hear it. If it is
empty, it must be filled; if it is full, it must be emptied. I take it by the
shaped handle as i would take a woman by the arm, I lift it up, I tip it
over a pitcher into which I pour milk or pulque - lunar liquids that open
and close the doors of dawn and dark, waking and sleeping.." Octavio Paz

haze

2009-11-01T19:58:00.000-08:00

Minus something

2009-09-30T14:12:00.000-07:00

2009-09-30T13:13:00.000-07:00

A Derridean Tornado

2009-09-28T19:11:00.000-07:00

Paul Neagu

fill

2009-09-27T01:39:00.000-07:00

Antarctica

2009-09-26T02:35:00.000-07:00

Vito Acconci receits

RAT BASTERD PROTECTIVE ASSOCIATION

2009-09-15T14:37:00.000-07:00

Semina & Wallace Berman:

Who leaves a trace of wings

2009-09-13T22:31:00.000-07:00

2009-09-12T22:01:00.000-07:00

caught between two hills

2009-08-06T01:50:00.000-07:00

-seeings and entanglements at the pond

(in the sea)
(in the laundry mat)

the moss let itself fall so slowly to the ground, and the horses neck brushed against the barbedwire fence

i like to lie heads and tails with you
looking down on us, water boiling steam rising to the ceiling
holding salt in one hand, pepper in the other (a flake of rosemary caught in my tooth)
seeing it all through 100 chandelier necklaces

thought i saw an eagle, could have been a vulture. can't tell anymore

2009-08-03T14:36:00.000-07:00

2009-06-29T22:29:00.000-07:00

camera video of a VHS film in slow process

tounge-shaped clovers

2009-06-24T14:30:00.000-07:00

the form of your adornment. it's taking shape, suddenly.
i want desolation. i want spiderwebs undermy bed. i want oil after digging
digging i want gold.
it's burning on her back in a molding principal of scars. i sit staring, thinking
about a pink lemonade that goes on forever. i want to paint with a brown im
not afraid of. a brown that won't crumble, is sound underneath me, is falling
towards me, is burying me. i'm getting old. i met a woman with a long golden
finger. she told me of souls of bodies wrapped in vines. she stuck her finger
at me so close to my eye barely flicking off the black crud sticking around my
lids. she skipped thhe heart, pointed straight at my eye, pointing right at my
mind "sink your fingers", she told me, "sink into this time". we climbed the
pyramids with boots on made of pancake batter. i still want to find the place
where i will live.

soft spot, whiskey, whiskey again

2009-06-16T03:09:00.000-07:00

putting together two opalescent balls of collected gum wrappers

we were left to finish the pyramids, and this is the best we can do

at first it was what they thought a tab rattling real wild at the bottom of a coke

can, then they flung it upside down and he dropped out head first breaking open

with all that jam inside a toaster struddle

2009-06-13T22:28:00.000-07:00

2009-06-13T22:19:00.000-07:00

2009-06-13T21:24:00.000-07:00

moon moon moon

2009-06-13T14:09:00.000-07:00

going down

impatient

hysterical

lost

MOONshine

(a frozen 4am tv screen, out of tune, between disconnections, rewired, these appeared to me)

- -- -- -- - - --- - - -- - - -- -- - -- - - --- -

COMING OVER U S

2009-06-13T01:06:00.000-07:00

2009-06-13T00:22:00.000-07:00

2009-06-12T10:04:00.000-07:00

WATCHING ALL THE GIRLS GO BY

2009-06-11T20:06:00.000-07:00

2009-06-11T19:45:00.000-07:00

2009-06-10T22:36:00.000-07:00

icabod

2009-06-10T21:55:00.000-07:00

2009-06-10T13:55:00.000-07:00

2009-06-10T13:06:00.000-07:00

hard glow soft night

2009-06-09T23:05:00.000-07:00

holding our closeness up to the light

2009-06-09T12:01:00.000-07:00

2009-06-08T23:45:00.000-07:00

it's a downhill tossing of daises from here

2009-06-08T23:12:00.000-07:00

i'll introduce you to this long slender dragging of time. in fact it is approaching quite coyly. the thought of a light so shyly decoiling. the nerve in my stomach vibrating wildly ordering strawberry milk shakes. i hold my own hand folding in on the nearness of my thoughts. existing on the very tip of my eyesight. my entire consciousness laying flat over my eye gliding along as mere molecules and particles, mere evidence so they passed off, of our existing differences and difference between us. between you me and the rolling spring(of a wailing fold-out mattress). between the darkness of the entertaining curtain outside, that forest darkness created solely out of sin and orchestrated burials. so compared to the blinking coffin closeness off your own lid, keeping you pressed in, keeping your scent in the books you read, the flowers sprouting in your head. i step in. elevator doors shutting, down dripping like ice crystals off of the edge of the deepest sheets. glacier blankets.
however, ignored is the silence of sleeping. all is wakened by the sound of your own voice, a sucking in quickly of breath, the clasp twist of a lantern light. reaching out from a gloomy longthought, a light flick of a moth wing finally says what was so sundried unsaid all afternoon before. ("she's lost her mind, her usual unrecognized self") so it goes, so much further, this welling farness coming up closer so soon on her. Through clawmouth fog that light glows, speaks in double-dog dares purely untold. eerie as any moonkisser knows of lonely-lipped, practically stone lonely unknown. cold cold light comes. coolly throbbing, between more brown clothes. bright, like light down a dense throat, with soft drunken mumbling encircling. "yes, yes, i mean it." this lantern still and soundly approaching. gently pulsing, emanating from a whispering bottlecap lick of some mournful areola. from that less than leaking measure of cruel distance, i pinch some tit of timed tenderness and then tuck it in my intestine filled with rocks of crumpled tin foil and worries and dead skins. all mixed up in a brothy-whimed stick up. we both realize we ruined this all on purpose. the pale beige glass vase is broken and the flowers have fallen on the ground back to the way we like it.
"and that's it. you win. and baby all the rest is after when we are blessed. and no thoughts will last longer than the rest. "

2009-06-08T19:54:00.000-07:00

POND

2009-06-07T23:17:00.000-07:00

2009-06-06T22:54:00.001-07:00

animakl

2009-06-05T22:33:00.000-07:00

dure

2009-06-05T15:42:00.000-07:00

2009-06-02T11:55:00.000-07:00

2009-06-02T11:41:00.000-07:00

2009-06-02T02:47:00.000-07:00

2009-06-01T11:59:00.000-07:00

2009-06-01T02:45:00.000-07:00