-
whale eyed
junkyard amens
chain-linked barehanded guilty
barehanded midnight breath
and
tangled
and
born
afraid gun shelled mouths
burning scared machinery skinned
and
tired money skinned
cement eyed -
whale eyed
one hundred seventy six
junkyard amens
chain-linked barehanded guilty
barehanded midnight breath
and
tangled
and
born
afraid gun shelled mouths
burning scared machinery skinned
and
tired money skinned
cement eyed - one hundred seventy six
-
i pray for a generation working and living at the altar of gun
i pray for the destitution of the American culture in the faces and voices of these children of some red and barbed god
i pray for the loss of self at the hands of the senseless and roaring -
i pray for a generation working and living at the altar of gun
one hundred seventy five
i pray for the destitution of the American culture in the faces and voices of these children of some red and barbed god
i pray for the loss of self at the hands of the senseless and roaring - one hundred seventy five
-
orange and yellow tongued
soft lipped
tiger lily face
pearly blue skinned
sly coyote fingered
peach and sun breath -
orange and yellow tongued
one hundred seventy four
soft lipped
tiger lily face
pearly blue skinned
sly coyote fingered
peach and sun breath - one hundred seventy four
-
Congratulations to my brother and my sister-in-law, who just had their wedding ceremony on Saturday. (They eloped a year ago.) While I wish happiness for them both, I swear if they make me an uncle I will bring down a terrible unholy wrath upon them.
-
Congratulations to my brother and my sister-in-law, who just had their wedding ceremony on Saturday. (They eloped a year ago.) While I wish happiness for them both, I swear if they make me an uncle I will bring down a terrible unholy wrath upon them.
congratulations - congratulations
-
I dreamt I was herding sheep, but I couldn’t see them only feel them. They were all very soft. An invisible dog would bring me a sheep, put it in my arms, and I’d place it in the pasture. Someone yelled “Wolf!” but I didn’t believe there was a wolf or I didn’t believe I had to be worried. Then I felt the wolf, invisible, press against me and take a sheep from my arms and it felt so so soft and silky. I felt guilty for losing the sheep. I felt terrible, like I had killed it myself. I urged the remaining sheep and the dog into the safety of a nearby house by opening the door and yelling for them to run, to get into the house. But I couldn’t see the sheep or the dog or the wolf to know what was happening and I felt afraid that more sheep would die or the dog would die or I would die. That was the end of the dream.
-
I dreamt I was herding sheep, but I couldn’t see them only feel them. They were all very soft. An invisible dog would bring me a sheep, put it in my arms, and I’d place it in the pasture. Someone yelled “Wolf!” but I didn’t believe there was a wolf or I [...]
little like a fable - little like a fable
-
The last couple months of silence have finally come to fruition, the House of Milk and Tar has received it’s fifth overhaul. Complete with a few new features and organizational changes. Readers can now enjoy an open (more or less) folksonomy, when navigating to a single post’s page (by clicking on a post title in most cases) readers are given the opportunity to suggest tags to categorize the post (however, they must be submitted one at a time and they are moderated for approval). Readers can also reply to comments now, though the system is a little clunky. As for the organizational side of things, the photography page has disappeared and will remain that way. Instead photos and other visual ephemera will (eventually, I haven’t actually got this part up and running yet) be directly added to the blog via posts. I’m switching my image hosting from Flickr to Zooomr, since I’ve reached the 200 photo free account limit at Flickr. You can still see my older photos by tracking down my Flickr account at the “elsewhere” page. Bookmarks are in a similar state, I plan to add them directly to the blog via posts. In addition I plan to post more miscellaneous content, originally the goal of this blog was to force me into some kind of daily writing schedule. Now I’d like to expand the focus into a more personal direction. I’m still tying up some loose ends, some content has been removed for formatting reasons and some content is not quite ready to be added to the site yet. I probably won’t be free to post very much for another month or so, and expect a few things to change as I flesh out the site design a little more.
-
The last couple months of silence have finally come to fruition, the House of Milk and Tar has received it’s fifth overhaul. Complete with a few new features and organizational changes. Readers can now enjoy an open (more or less) folksonomy, when navigating to a single post’s page (by clicking on a post [...]
a new coat of paint - a new coat of paint
-
American
space age hungry mouths
napalm marrow spinal column
hydrogen lipped
petroleum mouthed
three hundred million hands on the moon
three hundred million hands choking at one billion unborn
three hundred million burning in the heat of their breath -
American
one hundred seventy three
space age hungry mouths
napalm marrow spinal column
hydrogen lipped
petroleum mouthed
three hundred million hands on the moon
three hundred million hands choking at one billion unborn
three hundred million burning in the heat of their breath - one hundred seventy three
-
all this blue
like pale eggshell sea
like lips at the gin house
like black flies and shrapnel -
all this blue
one hundred seventy two
like pale eggshell sea
like lips at the gin house
like black flies and shrapnel - one hundred seventy two
-
an old red fire
and the face of an old red man
like empty cigarette cartons left on the sidewalk
Krishna lived under an old city streetlight and when little boys or little girls passed he would turn his great eyes to their small pale faces
Joshu met a wild dog on a mountain
A woman met the devil down in hell
he was an old meth man, hunting for cans and bottles
bull faced pale red boys
like gasoline and lime
everyone called him bones he was old old as old he told me once half drunk and bawdy about the beginning of the world blue bright eyes like gasoline fires dripping out of his face in the dim I chuckled at his stupid drunken jokes I took him home I put him to his old man’s sleep and before I left him he told me it was like some bright flower in the dark -
an old red fire
one hundred seventy one
and the face of an old red man
like empty cigarette cartons left on the sidewalk
Krishna lived under an old city streetlight and when little boys or little girls passed he would turn his great eyes to their small pale faces
Joshu met a wild dog on a mountain
A woman met the devil down [...] - one hundred seventy one
-
I am the bone under city skin
dreaming the color of gasoline
and red mouthed spark—
black tire rubber tongue—
Béla Lugosi dark lipped grin
Steve McQueen cigarette lipped grin
I am the bone under city skin
orange neon jellyfish electric—
black petrol tongue—
violet mouthed—
blue eyed and yellow eyed and wire eyed—
Amelia Earhart chapped lipped grin
I am the bone under city skin -
I am the bone under city skin
one hundred seventy
dreaming the color of gasoline
and red mouthed spark—
black tire rubber tongue—
Béla Lugosi dark lipped grin
Steve McQueen cigarette lipped grin
I am the bone under city skin
orange neon jellyfish electric—
black petrol tongue—
violet mouthed—
blue eyed and yellow eyed and wire eyed—
Amelia Earhart chapped lipped grin
I am the bone under city skin - one hundred seventy