that scene in Papillon

primitive WiFi slows down connection to a crawl

dropped out midway through conversations about obsolete technology

people in a group all talking about what they’ve seen on the internet

kid falling over

dogs dressed as ninjas

Hitler cats

Beef-burger garnishes

there was nothing of substance there was nowt that was real

that scene in Papillon when the screen turns upside down and he says YOU HAVE BEEN ACCUSED OF A WASTED LIFE scared the shit out of me

in time the spaceman will discover the monolith



  1. multiplemichael

    the janitor at the library
    (the things no one will share with him)
    nothing could fill his emptiness
    and yet, he purchases Nudist magazines
    simple people with a plenitude of skin
    flesh suits trimmed with hair
    (+) why not look at yourself and save the funds ?


  2. multiplemichael

    poetry about prolonged emptiness
    the smell of an old vacuum cleaner
    with a homemade wand
    themes of sex
    Nudist magazines
    understanding among adolescent friends
    the sounds and sights of cheerleaders
    the silken hair and fancy underpants


  3. multiplemichael

    today in workshop
    we wrote about smelling the man
    in the boy
    sort of creepy
    I thought about Halloween
    and candy-kernel teeth
    insects exploring us
    as we slept
    my goofy friend
    with his pre-puberty
    tarantula hair

    Liked by 1 person

  4. multiplemichael

    someone knocked on the door
    wanting to tell me
    that light was coming from sources
    that no longer exist
    I pondered how that information
    could become a resource
    that would work for me
    (+) people claim that enjoyment lingers
    (+) my uncle sold daggers for half-price
    and then bought them back for far less

    Liked by 1 person

  5. multiplemichael

    Abraham Lincoln with a pink shiny head
    a Christian with no one to do the clip
    Mary Todd said that it was an abomination
    old fashion birth control—slipping in brown
    a lot of guesswork, where it all goes
    spectator seed saying, “no, no, no”
    (+) Abe busy in the rear while she
    was strangling her clitoris —–the damn thing
    wouldn’t die


  6. multiplemichael

    I was told to mention her clitoris
    her rambunctious clitoris
    Mary Todd Lincoln
    “had a good grip on the thing”
    in the affairs of love
    even the normal
    can be abnormal
    Abe back there busy


  7. multiplemichael

    helpless in the library
    no where to hang on
    the Illustrated Clitoris
    ripping away pretensions
    innocent souls on the hormones
    swaying hair, head to toe
    Good Lord, that has nothing
    to do with being a male
    pain and regret and gravity
    all those things said and done
    (+) the baby out the window


  8. multiplemichael

    no braking mechanism needed:

    places nobody
    would want to go
    where music sucks
    I get a large amount of material from there
    they smile and say “take care of my treasure”
    it is never in code or written during a dream state
    warm-faced and crap
    thoughtful eyes ripped from a vulture
    all I ask, make your words into cloaks for authentic life


  9. eatmorewords

    the flarf man fell into his own cut up machine exited a changed man
    voice pitched a little higher
    when he spoke the dogs came running
    in the future there still will be poetry
    but it will coded or binary
    all the ones and zeroes


  10. eatmorewords

    I recorded the poetry
    and just played it on a loop
    lazy poet
    lazy poet
    with no pens

    some people think why aren’t dinosaurs in the bible?
    why weren’t they on the ark?


  11. eatmorewords

    the marriage of pills and liquor
    pushed away from food and rest
    – there is not enough space for both
    – you are a vessel
    there is a limit to what can be put inside

    the cannibals wait by the side of the road
    they wait for the babies


  12. eatmorewords

    they knocked at my door and tried to tell me I could be saved
    -they showed me a comic book
    and asked me to read
    – they had a look in their eye
    they implied they knew the truth
    the dirt on their shoes wasn’t from here
    they must’ve walked miles

    they then showed me a catalogue of daggers that could be bought for 12 monthly instalments


  13. eatmorewords

    the Christian clitoris looked like raw liver in the butchers window
    lots of people would look
    but no one would touch
    the butcher knew this would change when the rationing came
    and when the curfew came and the lights went out
    the people in the library put the books back on the wrong shelf

    everyone had hormones
    but some were defective

    ( the hair grew inwards)


  14. eatmorewords

    smell of old vacuum cleaner
    a damp dog
    a hole that sucks things up can be emptied
    and refilled
    nudist magazines opposed to magazines where people wear clothes


  15. eatmorewords

    the janitor at the library wanted to be a baby
    naked and suckling on a breast
    – but he just swept floors and emptied bins
    – he looked at people in clothes and imagined them naked the larger the person
    the greater shadow


  16. multiplemichael

    smoking medical stems and seeds
    a bad sinus thing
    bath salt rust

    paying the phone company
    to keep a working payphone
    across the street

    one day, you’ll pull over
    to make a call
    and I’ll cross over
    and introduce myself


  17. multiplemichael

    there was a huge discount
    on Nudist magazines
    people from 50 miles away
    were crazed
    and showed up
    with cash in hand
    it was bathing suit areas
    chestnuts and plumbing
    old people sitting on towels
    youngsters frolicking
    what more could one ask ?


  18. multiplemichael

    the depth of difficulties
    Nudist magazines under the couch
    next to the shoe box lid full of stems and seeds
    next to the loaded gun ready to go
    ———————you refused to read the eulogy
    scribbled notes, a total lie
    no hints of tranquilizers
    or meth
    would there be mention of the coffee counter girl ?
    the motorcycle gang with baby heads on chains ?
    suitcases of experimental narrative
    bright yellow-orange angel dust
    fragile abuse, fear of taking a shower

    all those prayers
    for a productive environment
    a safe zone
    artistic development
    free of impending
    reality mechanics

    free of a poetry workshop
    where poets set up a situation
    and then color in the blanks
    with a network of associations


  19. eatmorewords

    all the nudist books
    well thumbed and serving many functions
    bought years ago for different purposes
    from different shops
    and hidden inside encyclopaedias

    ( in years to come they would find them in drawers mixed in with instructions manuals for washing machines and fridges)

    the best gun
    is an empty on

    oh, to be in Shangri La

    kidnapped and a ransom of words paid in second hand poems


  20. eatmorewords

    thumbing through nudist magazine (23/4/85)
    the young coffee counter girl
    baby naked
    backdrop of familiar scenes
    a beach full retired bankers
    a shark off shore

    (I give this comment 3* out of 5)


  21. eatmorewords

    the last pay phone in town
    was declared an
    a line of tourist snaked around the block to take photos
    inside the body of the phone
    dead coins and beer caps

    I’d introduce myself with a hardy handshake and a business card


  22. eatmorewords

    isn’t this a life of fiction?
    leviathan isn’t real
    the coffee counter girls isn’t real (a facsimile of a hundred of our collective memories)
    dark town is a fiction of jazz music and needles
    I left a path
    of pharmaceutical pills and sugar cubes


  23. multiplemichael

    a complex situation easily turned into homicide
    please sniff the end of the barrel
    as I pull the trigger
    ———(the detective)———
    the blood soaked pillow
    was like a tampon on a heavy day
    it wasn’t suicide or an accident
    the mechanical apparatus
    the bang-bang, so-to-speak
    was missing


  24. eatmorewords

    the astronomers discovered a new planet
    initially they though it was a shadow
    they called it 007 RFROST
    – the James Bond appreciation society held a party
    the men pestered the woman while pointing at the sky


  25. eatmorewords

    barrel of gun
    cordite taste
    you can’t buy guns online but if you buy a 10 bullets they will give you a gun as a free gift

    there are ways around everything

    the mechanical apparatus inside is beginning to rust


  26. multiplemichael

    pull out the innocents and the numb nuts
    and Lordy you have the real poets
    the guys who put the gusto in SHIT OUT OF LUCK
    (+) she told the police that she threw the baby out of the window
    because of self-preservation—her personal self
    the shivering corridors of the jail house
    I found it difficult to be myself


  27. multiplemichael

    you were secretly writing prose
    for a vertical audience
    where the hell did you get that shit ?
    vertical audience
    a gripping poop of carbon copies
    the same words
    utterly routine
    —————————she loved to browse in bookstores
    she saw herself masturbating in front of a younger man
    eight minute jabs


  28. multiplemichael

    I know that it makes you blow snot
    to think of her that way
    insight (a life of inspired revision)
    her nasty finger work was provoked
    by a head covered in thick vibrant hair
    young man hair (ROYAL AND MANLY)

    wet with enunciation
    (+) intellectually displaced
    (+) sexually displaced


  29. multiplemichael

    the shivering corridors of your personal jail
    a fist with fingers———a sanctuary
    floating around I enjoyed your symphony
    masturbation as baptism

    the afterthoughts
    each time we connect


  30. multiplemichael

    on the same night you call love
    from its hiding spot
    ———-the ordinary doll-baby
    loaded with loneliness
    opposing rhythms

    fatigued watching you be you
    me being me

    (+) we come from the newspaper comic strips


  31. eatmorewords

    that damn rhyming dictionary
    trying to find words that don’t rhyme
    lonely words that stand like abandoned shopping centres

    I wrote down all the names of past lovers and crossed them out


  32. eatmorewords

    you wrote letters to unknown people
    commemorative stamps of dead Hollywood stars and murder victims stuck on with spit
    – – comic strip lives lived in little boxes —

    I have no superpowers
    I have no skills


  33. multiplemichael

    fruit without a colon

    haunted by the awareness of time
    tick tock——tick tock
    moments before the world
    splits apart

    yes, ricocheting trumpet sounds


  34. eatmorewords

    life’s metronome ticks like arms on a clock
    grandfather wristwatch
    still, the trumpets sounded
    walls of Jericho and dark town jazz clubs
    be-bop god
    the heroin head nod

    two feet in both camps
    sober junkie


  35. multiplemichael

    fruit without a colon

    you found it impossible to pronounce
    the names of angels
    they laughed when you asked them
    why they slept in a mortuary
    (+) serious dude, as if angels sleep


  36. multiplemichael

    your poor mother
    a hour of Hell
    you were a half hour
    he was a half hour
    your father running around the building
    screaming, “it’s all over now”


    race ahead and there’s too many sinful letters
    in your name to fit on the tombstone
    ——-what was it that motivated your behavior ?
    all those narrative voices
    scenes of suffering
    hungry Satan sleeping
    in your ears

    the doctor labeled it
    a “naïve reality-hunger”
    your wife and friends
    thought otherwise
    ****home educated pathologists
    more than willing to open you up


  37. multiplemichael

    right-minded readers seething
    the insensitivity of poets
    a hysteria turd embarrassing
    it was labeled as a poem
    nobody wanting to step on it
    undiluted poetry
    Romance in a state of decay
    (+) the poet can never use a question mark
    undiluted poetry
    and the slow painful demise of Romance
    the broken fingers of Romance
    the active smallpox sores of Romance
    the blind girl crying——bitter from Romance
    Romance fat from concealed hatreds
    (+) when I typed in “Romance”
    the Magic 8 Ball said,


  38. multiplemichael

    satisfactory contact
    you blew out those birthday candles
    “Lord, Lord… please——–satisfactory contact”
    white flannel trousers with a pee hole
    you constantly think about the things that could creep inside
    things that could creep insidiously inside


  39. multiplemichael

    birthdays were self-taught

    Africa was not my Daddy
    Africa was not my Mother
    turn off the lights
    watch the flames in my chest
    and thousands of centuries
    little tiny people going about their business
    each one a Michael
    each one an Anglo Saxon
    and proud of it


  40. eatmorewords

    sitting in a doctors waiting room
    sharing germs
    you feel sicker
    the longer you wait
    you question your insides
    and how they work
    you convince yourself you have medieval ailments

    the milk curdles
    leeches will be prescribed


  41. eatmorewords

    I was observed and my behaviours changed
    on a subconscious level
    I changed but on temporality
    by the time I work up I was back to normal

    I knew they were taking notes
    I knew they were looking


  42. multiplemichael

    at night, the wife stands outside
    with a flashlight focused
    on a rickety ladder

    you are the circus star (the tightrope walking groom)

    at first she was afraid that you would revert to homosexuality
    that you would stumble and sever her connection with reproduction


  43. multiplemichael

    Sunday morning in church
    blank faces
    cringing hindquarters
    ———-sex on page one
    the touch of Death later on

    overpowering loneliness
    the rose of happiness has faded away
    controlling instincts have collapsed
    half-welcoming violence
    exaggerated love-hate


  44. eatmorewords

    Sunday morning at the church
    you will soon sleep
    then dream
    of damnation
    of large crowds jostling in shopping malls at the far reaches of town
    money in the collection tray
    unaccounted for expenses
    walking hand in hand with Satan
    walking till your knee deep in baptism water


  45. eatmorewords

    the vasectomy ceased the bloodline THERE WOULD BE NO MORE
    it went limp
    life was drained of colour
    there was still a connection
    but something was missing
    there was no god
    there was no shadow


  46. eatmorewords

    the turgid poet
    knee deep in treacle
    and no one could put their finger on what made ART
    someone dropped a wallet in a gallery and a crowd circled it taking pictures
    thin lines between romance
    the fortune cookie was mute
    the batteries in the 8 ball were dead

    let’s turn the lights on real bright


  47. eatmorewords

    happy hour in hell
    two for the price of one
    alcoholic father barred for two years
    mother with her side man
    in disguise
    ventriloquists stealing voices

    if you look up your ailments online you’d think your dying


  48. eatmorewords

    apples used to stop sodom
    entrance / exit blocked
    – you could just see the stalk poking out
    attached to the core
    your knee the angels didn’t have named
    they had numbers


  49. multiplemichael

    in the backwoods
    the local doctor
    refuses to perform
    a vasectomy
    God has no nose for a vasectomy
    test subjects always come up bald
    or balding with urine stains
    Vasectomy—a snip loud with anger
    the gamut of madness
    trying to jerk out a single seed
    an anonymous being
    no doubt a pessimist


  50. multiplemichael

    what is a birthday without the rickety ladder ?

    climbing to the top
    subduing the tempestuous
    half-strangled by strong hand
    that silly vertical smile, geographical

    lovers may escape Sodom
    but wild horses
    couldn’t drag
    me away


  51. eatmorewords

    in the backwoods the local doctor was also the local priest
    and the librarian
    and the receptionist at the hotel
    – he knew their secrets and had held their meat
    – empty seed fired and danger free

    when I had my vasectomy my children asked did I ejaculate dust


  52. eatmorewords

    setting your alarm
    to the exact time you were born
    so waking up becomes an attempt to recreate the moment of birth
    – splinters at the top of the ladder but the view is beautiful

    ending the obituary with rolling stone lyrics*

    (*jagger paid royalties for the next 100years)


  53. multiplemichael

    Jagger wore two pairs of trousers
    a physical pair for his body
    a stove-pipe-out-the-window
    for his ego

    at night he could hear antibodies
    snorkeling inside his canals


  54. multiplemichael

    not every night
    but often
    the wife standing outside
    pointing the flashlight
    at a rickety ladder
    “I could have had my choice
    of any Crocodile man and I
    chose a poet”
    (+) a life of last-minute deletions


  55. multiplemichael

    your girlfriend was quoted,
    “give Polly a cracker”

    Saturday night
    numerous wives standing outside in the dark
    flashlight beams pointed at rickety ladders

    footprints that enter Dark Town
    are not the same as those that exit
    (+) symbolic unbinding was common


  56. eatmorewords

    the “phantom trouser”
    written about in Freud’s margins – rarely studied but even rarer to be seen
    a film crew was sent to study Jagger
    small men stood on stove pipe hats to get a better view

    someone over heard him say it was cathartic pissing off a bridge into a flowing river


  57. multiplemichael

    everybody upset at me:

    I confused
    eight minute jabs
    with eight inch jabs

    big knives make sharp distinctions
    distinctions not circumscribed by the past
    (+) first time, last time, knots left over from puberty


  58. multiplemichael

    testing and discarding ideas
    too young to understand
    the dangers of seed exchange
    a venom with no simple antidote
    no spectators, all must participate

    Michael Mockery———self-mockery
    faithful to suffering


  59. multiplemichael

    it got so BIG that people questioned if it was holy

    did other men embrace him ?
    ———(the question of equal footing)———
    the lobby full of jokes, puns, odd laughter
    he would pray to Father that they would be finalized


  60. multiplemichael

    people were too busy to consider
    the branching evolution
    of their sex drives
    —————————narrowly focused health issues
    the many-layered posters from the honeymoon
    torn down and made into collages
    smuggled into Mexico
    sold “as is”


  61. eatmorewords

    sex drive at best in neutral
    at worst
    in reverse
    rear view mirror
    always looking over shoulders
    detective fear

    she wanted to show me her honeymoon bruises


  62. eatmorewords

    happy marriage
    swollen nipple
    they both signed the paper
    they were bounded together legally
    a piece of paper that could easily be lost
    or burnt


  63. eatmorewords

    the nasty man said your children were his
    – traded them for trinkets and guns
    baubles and gems
    – the cages weren’t gilded
    they washed in the cities aqueducts


  64. multiplemichael

    the bottom line:
    to employ me at the lowest price possible

    new people arrive with baggage
    what will they leave behind
    when they slip-away ?

    new people in the break room
    counting rosaries
    mental images of Jesus
    in swaddling clothes

    the true value of a can opener


  65. eatmorewords

    all that baggage
    all those bags
    leave it at the door
    the porter will be down to collect it
    the doctor will be along shortly to record it
    the psychologist will be around later to analysis it
    while all the time
    your worth fluctuates
    like the Dow Jones

    a tin opener is priceless if you want to open a tin

    function and form
    image or substance?

    clown trousers visible from the moon


  66. eatmorewords

    on holiday you forget yourself
    walk around bare chest
    in wet clothes
    in the sea where fish piss
    washed over by waves
    all those woman with tiny waists
    all those woman like whales walking
    strange currency
    burning in the sun and all you can think is DID I LEAVE THE GAS ON?

    no poetic thoughts
    just worry


  67. multiplemichael

    it is difficult to find intelligent people
    who will discuss the lack of nudity
    in nudist magazines
    genitalia fuzzed out

    the female breasts
    seem to be of upmost interest
    almost as if they were additional eyes

    “look at me and then we will love”


  68. multiplemichael

    on holiday
    pre-hippy males in spontaneous wrestling matches
    greased up in an anguished form of wormlike motion

    it really wasn’t fornication
    just episodes of semen flow
    forgotten without signature


  69. multiplemichael

    what does one read on holiday ?

    words that shatter comfortable illusions
    words that behave like spotted leopards
    traces of past events
    insincere jabs
    in an affectionate way

    prayers to protect one
    from diseased confetti


  70. multiplemichael

    on holiday, you shared strong opinions
    about what is lost in contemporary poetry

    you called yourself “The Last Saxophonist”
    the spherical poet who refused to cast a round shadow

    everything sounded like it was from a foreign movie
    simple words in dungarees purchased in Paris


  71. eatmorewords

    the round poet rolled outta town
    rotund man with an irregular heart beat
    losing hair daily
    words fading a disappearing cloud
    dinosaur bones found in peculiar places (the side of the road
    room 231 at the local hotel)


  72. eatmorewords

    on holiday I was a different person
    the passport picture was taken years ago
    I was smaller then
    the locals wanted me to tell them about things from back home
    I lied and made my life sound like a movie
    I hummed a theme tune
    it was my gift to them


  73. multiplemichael

    it wasn’t words being smuggled
    it was pork
    pork not subject to gravity
    the meat that finds expression
    on wing
    toenails like Satan
    an inner monologue
    of hunger


  74. multiplemichael

    the crumbling contemporary hotel lobby
    hard-won escape from romance
    (+) she was upstairs pulling hairs from her chin

    Russian wives filling out postcards
    “our room is very barn-like”
    the straw bales, the woodchips

    the lobby poet asking us not to judge
    but to witness the interplay
    of pain and joy


  75. multiplemichael

    dinosaur bones with irritation under the foreskin

    a sexual athlete with a mighty trumpet
    head fur so thick and healthy
    that God once counted
    each individual hair


  76. multiplemichael

    they started
    smoking the linoleum
    from the filthy kitchen floor
    it produced a mild scatological high
    the business of living reduced to the simplicities
    (+) the need for a drug peddler went out the window


  77. multiplemichael

    she was an older lady
    oak paneling and silver epergnes perhaps
    yellow striped beach wear for undergarments
    she said that she was queer and no one argued
    musty, dusty, tasseled, and fringed with horse hair


  78. multiplemichael

    the elevator floor
    covered with
    empty meat wraps
    from the souvenir shop
    QUICK, a towel under the butt
    Russian pistons ready to explore
    (+) the sound of engines behind closed doors
    1. tantalize 2. stimulate


  79. multiplemichael

    the elevator floor
    covered with empty condom wrappers
    countless corduroy trousers
    and small black dresses
    a Saturday night was good for a dozen shoes
    it was a dirty little elevator
    a bulls-eye for transgresses
    norms of behavior behind numbered doors
    irritation and discomfort
    existence outlined
    with heavy strokes

    (+) when I knocked on the door, you said, “I’m tidying up”


  80. eatmorewords

    I wish there was better ending to this joke
    to this sentence and the next line that fades
    and falls
    like the sound that vanished as the ambulance rushes by


    the faint laughter carried across the bay
    to the prison recreation yard
    this current will drown you or bring you home


  81. multiplemichael

    (+) for the benefit of a passively-observing reader

    relatives who can no longer fly
    feathers plucked
    dancers and acrobats
    taken to the ovens
    cutlery in liquid form
    thugs and murders
    for plates


  82. multiplemichael

    soiled underwear from cycles of crime
    all the sins of the world bearing down
    nicknames floating in the bowel

    words beneath perfumes or powders
    words beneath silk and velvet

    fluctuating identities
    the mirror angry with its reflections
    the damn thing was a real creaking mattress

    honeymoon mistletoe
    and readers wanting sex
    to recreate the exchange of feelings


  83. eatmorewords

    some many nicknames
    the true identity was lost
    and ground zero shifted
    it’s geographical location
    – when you answered the phone you didn’t know who you were
    – “Is Micheal there?”
    – “Maybe”, you said

    you looked through he your list of acquaintances and realised you couldn’t put faces to name

    the springs in the bed would’t budge


  84. eatmorewords

    the original corduroy condoms casted discomfort
    a slight burn
    like the embarrassing discomfort you feel when the detectives questions you
    – micro expressions give the game away
    – better to be frozen in ice


  85. eatmorewords

    the elevator had two buttons
    nothing in between
    no confidence when limply presses the UP button
    you knew gravity and mechanics wouldn’t let you down
    the Cyrillic words looked alien to you


  86. eatmorewords

    the wear and tear
    chipped wood and rusted bumpers
    insides where ends began to
    another coat of varnish
    another lick of paint
    experienced weighed heavy


  87. eatmorewords

    under the fridge the linoleum was pristine
    no dark marks
    no outlines like murder scene tape
    inside the washing machine
    all the secret mingled with a thousand odd socks


  88. multiplemichael

    a sign above the pool hall:

    some things must be accepted as being out of reach
    hopefully, it wasn’t you running around at night
    with a fiery skull on a stick
    as a poet, you have learned to differentiate
    to separate thought from feelings

    next time around—-stay clear of the female pelvis


  89. multiplemichael

    norms of behavior behind numbered doors
    the HIM door, the YOU door
    the topside world daily dropping hair
    constant instructions that you ignore

    you will be called upon to account
    cry-baby amnesia is no excuse


  90. multiplemichael

    conversational poetry
    diary entries or drafts
    day-to-day intensified
    the ability to record difficult material
    the ability to tolerate the lesser
    the constant suicide attempts
    hiding and reading Robert Frost
    daydreams of being validated
    of being released from the Poetry Hospital
    sodomy as therapy
    awakening from drugs
    people proud of their education
    college after college
    and it was dung on the dong
    it was a part of growing up
    a bruise on the ego

    unsigned conversational poetry
    diary entries under hypnosis
    very little protection
    from the staff

    sodium pentothal
    and sodomy


  91. eatmorewords

    they knocked and you looked through the fisheye
    their heads looked large
    fleshy balloons
    your name had appeared on a list
    you couldn’t hide behind the sofa
    you didn’t have a sofa


  92. eatmorewords

    conversational poetry between yourself and you
    an echo chamber
    reassures you your thoughts are correct
    the knife of doubt is now blunt
    the man didn’t have a car so he threw the baby from the hotel window
    the bruise looked like a new continent
    the drug haze wore off the world looked shiny like a new coin
    that was devalued


  93. eatmorewords

    it was a TV show
    all your old memories and a bag of hair
    audience drugged and clapping
    mementos of forgotten hours
    they will deploy a thousand detectives to trace the trajectory


  94. eatmorewords

    dinosaur foreskin pro active roofs for inventive cavemen
    protection from the elements
    fur beds
    disease rife in infected areas
    deviated by the inability to talk


  95. eatmorewords

    out of reach
    just over there
    fingertips can’t touch the surface
    it is GODS WILL
    your fingers will stretch closer
    the shadows will lengthen
    the hole will widen


  96. eatmorewords

    the hotel lobby is where the ghosts of old guests congregate
    certain rooms hold memories of sex and death
    in one room ice cubes don’t melt

    they swept up all the hairs from all the floors and made a rug


  97. eatmorewords

    it’s difficult to find intelligent people
    a back pedalling president
    speaking like your favourite flarf poet
    with a vocabulary of less than 50 words
    all cut up and misplaced
    double speak
    but he will discuss nudity
    grabbing ‘em by the pussy while making pee-pee in Russian beds


  98. multiplemichael

    unattainable femininity in the lobby
    (+) Russians lucky through payment of a price
    sexualized wives charged up, ready to wrestle
    loudspeakers announce the time of day
    openings in the latrines
    often as not
    the smells strangle
    any lascivious fantasies
    ****solitary confinement on the commode
    Mr. Hand to keep one company
    ****lovely practice to be a grocery “bagger” on the outside


  99. multiplemichael

    ants that die of religious starvation
    collected and buried with retired flags

    moments that deviate
    from the strict standards
    of the hotel lobby genre

    the Russians liked to make
    small talk about rape
    babysitter rape
    wheelchair rape


  100. eatmorewords

    an army of ants marching out the Greek fires
    into the Main Street
    a constant line of red
    scolded ground of dust
    the island of ideas on fire
    babies in wheelchairs at the edge of the island


  101. multiplemichael

    interior self
    kicked upstairs
    where they wear no shoes

    rather odd
    their possessions
    along the roadside

    all licenses
    to pick a quarrel

    bullfights and sex
    called off
    no more payment


  102. multiplemichael

    I saw your neighbor
    talking to her beautician
    and then I saw detectives
    loading the beautician
    in their backseat
    she was making
    arcade sounds
    ——————the tiny spark was missing
    a new life attached to machinery
    dear old Dad keeping her oiled
    sugar-coated love
    she had oral foam

    late at night she made the rounds
    every man was her friend
    it was Daddy’s fantasy
    not hers
    (+) she wanted to do drugs
    and have kaleidoscopic vision
    (+) she wanted to read science fiction
    and bad-mouth Robert Frost


  103. multiplemichael

    she was really great
    at becoming the “slick magazine”
    stuck in young men’s minds
    she would expose her breasts
    in public to males
    it was Daddy’s fantasy
    not hers


  104. multiplemichael

    I passed
    on purchasing the Bible
    made of aluminum
    the sales clerk was fondling
    a typewriter
    why was it there ?
    it really made me uncomfortable
    I felt dirty
    like I was watching a live sex act


  105. eatmorewords

    in Chernobyl they had Bibles in lead lined boxes
    x-ray vision and radioactive fingers of the avid reader
    no god could remove the tumours
    you could see their fingerprints on the typewriter
    the live sexy act was dull
    one of the parties looked disinterested
    just plain bored
    I would demand a refund but was ashamed I was there


  106. eatmorewords

    breasts exposed for the cheap thrills
    which only lasted 30seconds
    but a photo lasts forever
    (unless it’s torn
    burned or deleted)
    daddy with the camera
    daddy with secrets


  107. eatmorewords

    no drugs so kaleidoscope vision obtained by holding her breath for periods of time
    – tiny sparks can cause infernos
    – dead bodies amongst the ashes
    dead bodies at the end of time


  108. multiplemichael

    the thing I like about the “End of Time”
    there will be no dead bodies
    or terrible smells
    there won’t be anything
    because no one will exist
    to recognize anything

    a new God will appear
    a new Adam to name everything


  109. multiplemichael

    a student in the back of the room
    asked what the general aesthetic intentions
    of trying to remove fingerprints from a typewriter
    had to do with shaping poetry or any work of literature


  110. eatmorewords

    the guest book at the hotel will be the only evidence you existed
    – there will be two Adams
    with both sets of sexual organs
    – a new bright future of new fresh humans
    free from stains


  111. multiplemichael


    preserving the past by memorizing it (?)

    the new God won’t be human
    or make Adams
    stains and sexual organs
    will be a thing of the past
    (+) no fresh humans today


  112. multiplemichael

    that sound of a dog barking
    a long spell of creative inactivity

    transgressions on the whole gender
    wearing underwear from an insult

    LIFE, edited and shortened
    trying to return a rented typewriter


  113. multiplemichael

    make haste to be emotional
    Thank You, God
    you don’t scrape gum off the sidewalk
    or arm wrestle with self-consciousness
    however, you are closely watched
    somewhat anxious
    penciled thoughts


  114. eatmorewords

    why does the dog bark?
    hunger or anger or boredom or fear?
    a bark
    a howl
    outside while the owners twitch at curtains and eat meat
    – the rented typewriter
    long overdue for return
    – a heavy use of the letters g j and o
    – there will be a fine
    – dues will need to be paid


  115. eatmorewords

    I have seen the blueprints for all the hotel corridors in this town – I know of the secret passages that were never made
    – hidden doors that would lead to places unknown and unaccounted for in this geography
    – i took the second left and a man approached me
    – he wanted to sell me a radio
    – he told me that on certain frequencies you could here the voice of god
    – I plugged it in and heard static
    – “You need faith to hear”, he said and I turned and left

    the exorcism went smoothly
    the room was left tidy

    the moon settled into its position
    and when gravity broke
    we floated up like fat balloons
    leaving behind all the bad advice we’d ever been given

    at the edge of each town they collected black and white TVs
    – a mourning of conduits and obsolete technology


  116. multiplemichael

    you plugged in
    rewarded with children
    frank language stopped

    beating the bush for unofficial poetry
    the smiles and the liquid eyes
    dogs barking in code

    relatives on the inside
    sensitive Hotel knowledge
    shared and put to severe test


  117. multiplemichael

    detectives peeking
    hoping to view blueprints
    on black and white television

    the Hotel lobby
    reminds you of something
    grade school

    a ravine
    with sharp edges
    and animal dung mud

    single adventures
    the multiple baths
    Truck Stop Showers

    —————-unavoidable pressures
    red tape and being measured
    each man a recluse


  118. multiplemichael

    schoolmasters behind closed doors
    pockets full of ninety-nine
    strengths and liabilities
    paralyzed with a name
    inferior men standing at a distance
    sexual clowns ticking like a clock
    quick to display their breaking point
    unpublished and time to go
    problems at work
    leftover fireworks
    (+) tidal wave tea


  119. eatmorewords

    inferior men locked in dark rooms with a light blinding them from their PC
    – midnight action for the lonely
    – happy to pay minute per minute
    — he found the Cinderella slipper
    and sold it on eBay but he was no closer
    to anything tangible
    the gaps just got wider and wider


  120. eatmorewords

    he has to wear gloves when used the typewriter
    he wanted the output
    buy didn’t want to leave any traces
    no Hansel and Gretel clues
    fake fingers typed wrong poems
    all flarf without fingerless gloves


  121. eatmorewords

    pick a shovel
    dig a hole from a mathematical problems
    three men digging a ditch
    further north
    all possessions never buried
    but sold online
    or stolen by restless relations

    when she said bullfighting
    the meanings
    got blurred


  122. eatmorewords

    old videos collected dust before being sub·poe·naed
    an old judge
    and eager to please
    you’ll get the invoice in the post
    you’ll appear before the magistrates
    bring your memories of youthful days

    three disguises for the two hour filming


  123. eatmorewords

    the deaf man with broken fingers was mute for days
    – he absorbed but didn’t emit –

    days later he called the fire department to rescue a cat and extinguish the burning bush

    he booked a hotel room under a false name which he forgot when he tried to check in


  124. eatmorewords

    the radio emits a low hum
    the music of the spheres and the sound of chemicals
    the badly tuned radio picked a lone man sobbing and an advertisement for a sofa sale


  125. eatmorewords

    hidden doors in geography
    the idiot thought he could walk through a mountain
    – – fabricating reality and planting bones where they’ll be found —
    parts of your history are available at Target


  126. multiplemichael

    false names at the Hotel

    swarms of poets
    begging for odd sequences of words
    things like three-button sex
    and American dollar bills
    gay people drank cocktails
    trading kisses and touches
    the smell of jism on their breath

    the restroom wasn’t safe
    too simple to pull it out
    and close your eyes
    (+) larger and wet, not dry and toothy


  127. eatmorewords

    the axe crack would appear
    and spider along the surface
    like small tributaries of a dirty river
    weakening the structure
    pushing the things you wanted further away


  128. eatmorewords

    all the locks on the restrooms doors never worked
    pissing while leaning back
    one had holding the door closed
    trying to read the graffiti advising you if numbers to call for a good time
    no paper in these stalls

    in Europe people think it’s exotic to sniff cocaine through a dollar bill


  129. multiplemichael

    mattress manipulations
    poetry about meerschaum pipes
    and corduroy jackets with suede elbows

    constantly discharging
    one less thing
    to feel bad about

    our relationship dwindled
    you with your funeral cars
    me with my nonsense


  130. eatmorewords

    a funeral car without a corpse is just a spacious car
    – plenty of room to lay down and stretch your legs
    – the little spark of electricity from corduroy static

    a circle jerk poetry fans

    the hotel was full because of the convention
    people in costume

    you with your Abe hat


  131. eatmorewords

    the funeral car doubled as a pizza delivery car
    dead and smelling of pepperoni
    a pack of dogs followed the hearse
    it look beautiful from a distance
    salivating digs at the grave side
    the psychologist would have a field day


  132. eatmorewords

    when I tired to check into the hotel they advised I had already checked in
    they showed me my signature
    apparently I was in my room
    – I told them I would return tomorrow after I checked out
    – as I left
    I could hear them whisper


  133. eatmorewords

    the splinter was deep
    in deep layers down
    he didn’t want it removed
    it was a memento
    of better times he didn’t wish to forget
    a painter from the cross
    from the arc
    or the grave?

    where ever it was from
    it made the poet think


  134. multiplemichael

    stroking the writing ego
    the dictionary giving you orders
    the mirror reflecting mistakes

    romance without underwear
    constantly feeding the erection
    sexual control

    unsavory agenda
    later with mature shadows


  135. multiplemichael


    the guy at the lobby desk
    with the weapon
    he asked you not to read
    your poetry in public

    healthy readers
    dehydrated to the bone

    the guy at the lobby desk
    brandishing a large knife
    the romance genre
    was a dangerous thing
    hard-edged love
    put into language
    to placate

    (+) an inch or two of hardware on the screen

    the scooped out place
    where you wanted to return


  136. multiplemichael

    the scooped out place
    where you wanted to return

    most people enjoy watching live sex
    we gave James Thrall Soby a performance
    a pleasurable flush on his face
    with the flashlight pointing south
    he said,
    “no need for a rehearsal”


  137. eatmorewords

    Papillon floated away on a bed of coconuts and the hotel bed felt like I was sleeping on knuckles
    – all the heathy breathing from next door
    kept me up
    I could hear it over the TV
    – I had to put the Bible down


  138. eatmorewords

    I didn’t wrote poetry on holiday
    I left my pens at home
    the sharpener was confiscated at customs
    they wouldn’t allow it on the plane
    – if you wanted to read my poetry aloud in public
    you can
    you can
    I’m not seeking payments for copyright


  139. eatmorewords

    the snakes reflection
    a leather handbag
    the times remembered when you were strapped to the chair
    the nurses laddered tights
    all modesty gone and recorded
    just below the waistline


  140. multiplemichael

    male poets copy and recopy
    “by God, I am going to orgasm or die trying”

    employ men as instruments for exploration

    a lively quarrel between organs
    damn the consequences


  141. multiplemichael

    whittling the twig
    hand moving back and forth
    awaiting discharge
    will it ever end ?

    celluloid reality in a hotel lobby

    happy people singing a bawdy song
    words outside the safe limits
    they journeyed all that way
    in uncomfortable tailored outfits

    a lust for bullying
    more give than take
    “I don’t like you”
    “I just sex you”


  142. eatmorewords

    she smelt like free hotel shampoo
    staggering in high heels
    a million miles away from being a national treasure
    – that trick she could do with the stalk of a cheery


  143. eatmorewords

    I was pursued by unknown shadows from a nameless Ministry
    it was vexatious
    always having them around
    especially now
    and on a date night
    after all
    I had washed my hands and cleaned under my nails
    and ironed flat a shirt
    there was nothing to see here
    there was no song to sing along to


  144. multiplemichael

    ——testosterone-driven behavior——-
    moving through lovers
    at a risk of becoming them
    lascivious fantasies
    difficult to purchase
    difficult to dig out of

    grocery bagger blues
    supermarket hell
    corners to hide
    2 hours
    on the commode


  145. multiplemichael

    I did not say anything
    about the flashy cowboy outfit
    dressed outside comfort
    and you seemed comfortable
    cafeteria poetry
    maybe the western duds
    a promotional gimmick
    the fiddle in your pocket
    a nice touch


  146. eatmorewords

    I went to Alcatraz and pretended I was Al Capone
    I pretended I had syphilis and looked out over the bay
    I wasn’t me that day
    in the shadow of the bridge
    constantly painted
    bored artist

    surveys reveal those that survive jumping from the bridge
    regret jumping

    have you jumped?
    of we’re you pushed?
    did they find fingerprints on your back?


  147. multiplemichael

    passive participant in poetry
    wishing for an exit
    (+) poet seeking the pleasure of arousing the reader

    the ultimate choice:
    or be crucified

    the fear of being harried into submission
    Jesus happy with himself


  148. multiplemichael

    a mixture of nonsense
    and brilliant observation

    experimental roles
    a half pound of ridicule
    a pinch of satisfaction

    mommy was like an old bungalow
    daddy, a piss bottle
    in the backseat of Taos, New Mexico


  149. eatmorewords

    one foot in brilliance
    one foot in nonsense

    the mum was surrounded by scaffolding
    the edifice was being held up
    invisible to the closet family members

    you wore your old boots as a sign of remembrance
    boots that had walked across the border into Mexico

    you send the postcard with a picture of a donkey

    remove all the cobwebs


  150. eatmorewords

    there is always an exit
    if there is an entrance
    I did reproduce
    I did my bit
    I am part of evolution
    in a world of empty shops
    second hand shoes
    I lost a bag of words
    I tried to buy some from the crucified man
    the babies on the road
    the weather didn’t arrive
    it was all nonsense
    just tea leaves and tales


  151. multiplemichael

    tossed out that new age crap
    put Mick and the Boys on
    no connections since the freeze
    but the smart chap put away
    enough for a year
    the boy with the flashing light
    on his cap
    the boy that doesn’t have to piss
    for six months
    hello outdoors
    hello atmosphere
    piles of library books
    piles of dead Mikes

    neighbors trying to sell me conversations
    quarrels among squirrels
    innocent consternation


  152. multiplemichael

    watching cartoons
    rolling cigarettes
    safeguarding instructions
    for Conversational poetry

    Jesus stops by
    so sentimental
    his pink boyish cheeks

    gazing at himself in a mirror
    crusty on the edges
    lonesome on the road
    lonesome at home


  153. multiplemichael

    like a frightened dog
    the poet would dash out
    and bark and bark
    one geezer after another
    spitting out words from a scrapbook
    the merest insights were treasured
    nothing Hollywood
    nothing sissified


  154. multiplemichael

    scary—mature thoughts carried through in an immature manner
    torpedoed in romance, outnumbered by the pains of every day life
    a land and time where people religioned with a dead dude on a cross

    and then there was that little thing:
    an occasional cameo appearance in the marriage


  155. eatmorewords

    a cameo in your own life
    the way they manipulated your image –
    – everyone covered in filters
    Jesus in black and white
    swallowed small pieces of barbed wire while watching history programmes
    they’ll charge your for breathing


  156. multiplemichael

    explored three hundred museums
    not a single length of barbed wire
    gossip at a price
    V-2 rocket strength
    whooping and hollering
    up-tempo nitroglycerine
    ask a simple question
    and it suddenly turns black woman serious
    “are you messing with me ?”


  157. eatmorewords

    the Ouija board moved
    dyslexic ghosts misspelt the name of departed family members
    did you ever have an Uncle called Bib?

    I’m off to sea
    I’m off to catch a whale


  158. multiplemichael

    secretly shedding a tear
    after hearing a small child cry
    thoughts of the baby that took wings

    she went home
    and cleaned the house
    a dozen times
    vinegar and salt
    and industrial bleach

    the baby was still there
    smell or no smell


  159. multiplemichael

    it was like being inside
    a vat of warm J-ELLO
    dawdle, dawdle, explode
    scattered seed
    constant chatter and bawling
    whiney and uncomfortable
    best face on an awful situation


  160. eatmorewords

    a frightening dog
    frightened and trained to attack rabid teeth like knives
    & mountain peaks
    sharp and covered in pissy drool
    – spat words from the scrapbook
    collage poetry sounds better than flarf


  161. eatmorewords

    sad tales of a great man
    a great man who couldn’t dissect the easiest instructions
    a kitchen draw full of manuals
    a bin full of wasted words
    he couldn’t chew the words
    he wanted to dilute the consistency
    he added tears


  162. eatmorewords

    when the curtains opened
    the sun wasn’t where it should’ve been
    like someone had moved your favourite ornament
    to the right
    a pile of Mikes ready for collecting
    piled up high
    buzzed with flies
    outside static atmosphere


  163. multiplemichael

    watching episodes of your mother’s life
    on television with a foreign soundtrack
    the boys refused to believe that you had a brother
    what the hell did they feed him ?
    and why was he so different ?
    (+) the poet: barred windows and a locked door


  164. eatmorewords

    the tale of the secret brother
    hidden away
    he was the noise in the attic
    spare organs for old age
    the boys would believe what they were told
    the TV programme told them it would be alright


  165. multiplemichael

    the medical vacation in Switzerland
    where they replace dear Michael
    I see my old self in a blue bag
    I’m in the Jamaica Room
    with expensive flowers
    an effusive apology or two
    warm kisses and a new scrapbook
    it will be weeks before socks and shoes
    ****sexual fantasies and ruminations by the truckload
    ****blame it on the drugs, singing carols as if it was Christmas


  166. multiplemichael

    the guy who put the new drip bag on
    whispered that Courtney Love
    had visited while I was out
    my only imperfection
    COURTNEY LOVE my squeeze
    bohemian pattycake, Courtney
    real, imaginary, sprigs, sprouts
    infected but safe


  167. multiplemichael

    potential consequences————-wealth
    obsessively preoccupied with drugs
    outside the paths of pain
    more than blank
    “I don’t care”

    dreams about poetry workshop
    the girl who writes about fruit
    she is like Woody Allen
    a quickie Robert Frost
    (+) all I could think, she doesn’t even have a dong


  168. eatmorewords

    waiting for when you can wear a disguise
    werewolf kids under vampire moons candy toothed kids crying over Valentine regrets
    everyone’s feet walk over the leaves
    as they make their way to the cancelled poetry workshop.


  169. eatmorewords

    I saw another one died
    with all those tattoos
    that the worms will eat
    with no concern for the mans past
    another one died in the queue for the doors to open
    he had breaths and she had a penis and their friend
    was somewhere in between and the poets of the past
    had never experienced this before


  170. eatmorewords

    the stalking shadow of Courtney
    hiding behind a grandfather clock
    a legal team that would sink the ark
    real or infinity the dear was real
    she was called LOVE but LUST also starts with an L


  171. eatmorewords

    that medical vacation to Europe
    in that country where they let you kill yourself
    fair well kisses before your body turned blue
    none of your relations argued over who got your socks
    no one cared
    there then gone

    Christmas celebrated in June


  172. multiplemichael

    your fancy typewriter
    ain’t worth a shit
    where we are going
    drinking and fornicating
    no time soon, Buddy Boy
    pissing candy cigarettes
    with the demons and the devils
    Buddy Boy
    pissing candy cigarettes
    with the demons and the devils


  173. multiplemichael

    one of a million nights
    darkness in the countryside
    going 90mph
    somehow the tires remain glued
    probably Pink Floyd playing
    the windows are down
    one can hear the woods
    always afraid


  174. multiplemichael

    the elders taller than any tree
    rigidly principled
    more concerned with heaven above
    than the flatness of today
    the emptiness
    (+) drugstore Courtney
    a small moist towel
    a quick wipe of the face
    suddenly happiness drops down
    I experience it


  175. multiplemichael

    how many and how much
    and how often
    both electric and acoustic
    a constant advertising jingle
    ****you had that Mormon Tabernacle Choir smell
    persistently dim-witted
    people dressed in footnotes
    at one time you said that they were friends

    but it was just the drugs
    rarely mentioned, the toil


  176. multiplemichael

    actual storytelling with a bit of narration
    narrowness in the poetry workshop
    strangers crowded into poets
    comparing unrelated objects
    touching genitals and running
    (+) naked people running away from the Reading Circle


  177. eatmorewords

    dying slowly whilst breathing heavily
    most of the day spent sleeping or scratching at an itch
    bed sores and bed bugs
    kissing a memory of kissing her red lips
    the physicality of lifting a heavy weight
    an automobile pile up close the roads


  178. eatmorewords

    I saw on Tv this morning
    a man listening to a tree
    he said he could hear it grow
    I didn’t believe a word he said
    birds tweeting in a pink Floyd song
    the sound of running water always makes me want to piss


  179. eatmorewords

    who needs narration ?
    just let it unfurl
    like ribbons and spilt paint
    across yesterday’s newspaper
    unrelated subjects and all related in someways
    the seven degrees of separation
    invisible strings


  180. eatmorewords

    there was no adequate recompense for a wasted life
    there was recognition
    hell, they even forgot my name
    I was number 16764
    a fingerprint stored in an endless vault
    at work they wanted us to go on an away die
    climbing over dead Michaels


  181. eatmorewords

    your fancy typewriter wrote itself
    no input from you
    you just back
    feet up the desk
    the wonders of modern technology your poems wrote themselves on your magic typewriter
    smoke your candy cigarettes shake hands with the devil and keep your magic typewriter plugged in


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s