you may need a murderer someone to do your dirty work don't act so innocent i've seen you pound your fist into the earth

slow thick
dark red rich
blood drops
n chunks of fat
mixed with hair
on damp shades
of brown leaves
marking a trail
between point of impact
and finality
scattered with
bed down pools
of rested
death on
soft dead grasses
pause to lick the wound
pause to listen
pause to smell
pause to fade
until startled
or passed
in a final field dressed spot
prepped to drag
by the head
fastest way out
catching on brush, sticks
limp lifeless meat noodling
over logs
parting ground cover
for a new trail of whatever
falls out
a new trail that'll
last at least 2 weeks
and make whoever finds it jealous.

they filled our hearts and hands with violence, with violence, with violence

has the full feeling
of laying on yr
back
watchin the
'stars' fall outta
the sky
in anger and rage
and the pure joy of
burning burning burning

walkin into the vertical
blackened board shed
tin roof makes taps in the rain
n its always rainin this time of year
cept tonite

its dark black dark
the gas tanks been out
so long the mantles
been eaten by moths or somethin

kickin dust through the creaky floor boards
leavin scuffed work boot marks to the
chair in the corner
a seat by the window
to listen for the ghosts
and watch them
'stars' out the broken by stone
window
fall n burn
burn burn

now is the time for the showdown so let me give you the lowdown we've come to the end of our road

'im over this'
is playing over and over
even though
marvin gaye hits the ears
through the dark
travels in the fall
cold mist n puddles
mercy mercy me

hoping drops of rain freeze
tonite
and puddles ice from the edges
in creaky white air spaced
forms of dont mean anything cold
hard nature

the gaps, the spaces
just fill just fill

my beard
and your hair
like velcro
stuck together

bloodstains, speed kills, fast cars, cheap thrills, french girls, fine wine.

i've been listening to agent orange since 2pm-ish sunday. loud.

getting ready to open for saul williams at the cmj/afro punk thing tomorrow @ blender theater in nyc. also upcoming show @ metronome with the heavy on 11/4 and albany, NY @ valentines on 12/5.

thats enough for now.

been reading a lot. i went crazy on amazon last nite and ebay today. its going to be like christmas at my house in a week or so. you should come by and i will read wander lust inspired things to you with great energy. you can take notes in a vintage brass notebook or WWI field journal. i'll feed you peanut butter and banana sandwiches out of a cooler. it will be great.

see you around, soldier.

fight for equality.

the clouds are gray and cold
tangled up like fingers
elbows, wrists and knees.
moving. fast.

'round midnight

home early listening to modern jazz quartets last concert on vinyl in the dark over the ring of my ears. when i think of jazz this is the first record i think about. i love the integrity in this recording and performance. I stumbled across this record on accident one nite. It was in a pile of records my dads friend brought back from someplace over sease when he was in the military. Also a huge stack of weird dylan records. I rarely listen to those though.

so I was driving home home from the show thinking about all of the things this record isn't. I made a list in my head which I wont share. It isn't everything I don't want. It is pure and pleasure, energy on smooth lines and perfection in peace and movement. I like to close my eyes and pretend im sitting at the avery fisher hall with a bunch of dudes in front of me who love to play and play what they love. the faint chatter that bleeds through could be my neighbor. it could be you.

if you want to join me send me a txt or come on over. side one is only half done... and I have the bonus record too...