American Noun

I understand nothing, luckily –

as this gives me enough leeway for a continuance if not perpetual then with no for-the-moment foreseeable end.

Externality, ahoy!

Let me imply interiors, and by interiors I mean no disrespect to Mr Freud (in his Hawaiian shirt on his skateboard).

Allow me to de-code my characters’ movements, Hollywood-style: He stood, gazing across the lake for a while then turned and got back in his car and drove slowly home.

Hello, the poetry of specifics – brand-new and here is another skyline, another breath.

Do I feel painfully Hem-ed in? Not at all, Jane Austen’s inch of ivory is my penis – more than an inch, buddy; eight, hard.

Europe is cissy, not me

Whitmanlike, I shake hands with the woodsmen of America – from upstate New York to downtown L.A. (I do not wash my hand afterward, and neither do they: I appreciate the smell their fingers leave on mine, of cedar and sperm.)

Son, let me save you the trouble and pain: Go home.

(Stop ventriloquizing.)

Another crafted, sensible sentence about the weather no, fuck, no.

15th December 2002