Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Things You Dream Of

Friday, September 25, 2009

Other Thoughts

That reminds
me how
every piece of
clothing is
a costume
and how
when I knew
you, long ago,
I was wearing
a suit
and you
were wearing
your own
skin then.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

My Suit Hanging in the Closet







Friday, September 18, 2009


I'm happy to say my new Short Hand record, Attila!, is now available here:

Not everything is totally worked out, but you can download the tunes for free, make your own jewel case inserts, and check out the lyrics and more here.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

I Am So Shampooed

The new issue of Shampoo. Nice work, Del Ray.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

I'm So Afraid

New and very spooky, Spooky Boyfriend #4. Nice work Nate.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Bath Time

Max would like to be a spy.
He needs a pad of paper for
taking notes and
some other cool stuff.
He will maybe work for
the police chief.
Stella will be a princess.
Max has thought about
being other things.
Lots of things, though
I don't know what.
Stella first thought about
being a Flower Nine.
I said, "What's that?"
She said, "Flower Nine."

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

Good, Good Things

Thursday, September 03, 2009

These Things

I've been meaning to say something.
I'd love to go on and on about how artists aren't conduits
or special. We are not freezers of bears. We aren't
shaman or conjurers and nothing we do is mysterious.
I could just go on and on about how people are like
"it just flowed through me" and "it happened" and
"enlightenment" and, you know, the general
mystery thing and super good, good thing. It's like
everyone is special. I mean, like artists
as prophets and whatnot, getting all deep
in the belly of the goodness shark, gnashing away at injustice
and silliness, being better, being more than, being
the Jones'. O how I hate the idea of Talent and Exceptional
and Gifted and Blessed and Touched. I could go on and on.
Or, I've also been thinking about family and how it happens
that one has one and one lives with one and so on. But then
other things happen, like not going on and on. Like not
saying these things. Like not anything happening.
At those moments I end up slightly confused, looking
at myself in a mirror and feeling like a dead god.