I have decided that I am, in fact, the representative of a new movement in art. This new movement began two and a half minutes ago when I was in the washroom stretching my penis from the tip of the foreskin up and away from my body so I could get the skin of my shaft and testicles taut enough that I could comfortably and deliciously scratch for as long as it was before the new movement took hold of my attentions. It will last as long as I live, and it will be unparalleled everywhere and for all time. No one who does not understand it will appreciate it, and anyone who appreciates it will be deemed insane or ignorant. I am the pinnacle of human artistic achievement. Art is the challenge of aesthetic paradigms and my movement defines itself by its continuous challenge to itself, ergo, my movement encompasses all of art, from four or five minutes ago to eternity, and is self-perpetuating. Therefore my movement is art. Forever. Therefore I declare myself the winner. Of art. I win art.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

breathe words in and out of wounds
shake the fist off of sweat from that weight

mental fringes and horizons on tracks
a worm takes me where pigeons chase
still

where the water’s clay-muddy pumped
beads on squints
down glossy matted gray

cracking purple caskets
roots glossy gray guts

hard glossy casket pills

maybe broken all the pieces fall
flailing forces of adhesion

gray tones
urban birds squint muddy red

don't ever live me alone
enjoying momentum

flies gush off muddy slits

not since all the alone came in as far
it was all skin and touch and over the corpses rose
Babel

prose is inaccessible and verse is just plain insane
the damn rhythm makes all this straight seem noise and you KNOW the beat tells you to
look

maybe broken all the peaces fall
flailing forces of adhesion pushing for cohesion
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