Nineteenth Week of Poems

March 6

Money trickling down and doing nothing while spending it

Isn’t that the American Dream?

What the fuck is the American Dream in the first place?

Is it cars and girls?

Is it hot bods and hot rods?

Or is it poorly worded and poorly phrased third-rate poetry?

Is it playing Madden forever

And losing forever

And getting pissed off


Or is it writing poems to girls at 3 am

Trying to connect with someone

Even if I’ll never really see or talk to them?

What is it?

What is?


March 7, 2013

Joaquin Phoenix in The Master:

How can someone be that fucking good?

Jesus H. Christ, holy shit.

March 8, 2013

How many more poems can I write before





And Old?


March 9, 2013


What is life if

Not at all

An adventure of the flesh?

(Or the soul, whatever.)

March 10, 2013

Ten films down, somehow

A hundred dollars spent

On some odd quest

Miami International Film Festival

You make me crazy as shit

Watching The Master again

Why do I sympathize with Freddie Quell?
Or with The Beast in Oldboy, at that?

Why do I sympathize with monsters?

Am I a monster?

More to the point, do I want to be a monster?

Would I prefer that kind of being?

Is that odd?

Am I crazy?
Eh, fuck it.


March 11, 2013

Who’s the master here?

Is it you or is it me?

Is there a master here?

Who is it?

Who can it be?

Am I the master?

The master of what?

Myself? Yourself?

Who’s self?


The master is the slave

The slave is the master

It never ends

It can’t end

March 12

Rest in peace to Chris Kanyon, Paul Bearer, Chris Candido, Curt Henning,

And all other wrestlers who were gone too soon from this world

Here’s to all of you

You will be missed.


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