This is a blank page

lectures/selections

the intramural sports
shake my head bang
into a wall

Backwards and forwards
the interned excitement travels

into which cloud

I turn upside down

an arc of golden stuffed flesh
without which

I am but impotent and powerless.

Guilt bubbles furiously on the horizon
for my beard grows
language

My words  black me out

I am hanging by a thread over a pool of boiling meth.

And furthermore, what is substance?

I used my happiness to hate people

I know a man named Joe
sanitation
ouch





ick



moss


will

Sylvia
peel

Angry woodwork spoken in anger

word dripping in sweat

scary

I am scared -- bombs


I walk too much above the  hole.