Polyptych By Default


Old Hat


I waited.

My hemoglobin fell like the price of rain.

I had no narratives to impose

until people appeared.

“Molestar, molestar, yo quiero molestar.”



This Is Not My Fault


There’s a body in the trunk of my car.

I told everyone

how great it is to sleep with you.

If this embarrasses you it embarrasses me too.

But if anybody opens the trunk we’re fucked.



Old Haunts


We watch them kick their legs with collateral force.

I confuse memories for people.

The way you walk

is something I once drank and threw up all over the bathroom wall.

Velocity and disregard for the service workers of the world.



This Is Not My Fault


At the edge of the project I wept.

It was a painting of the town

the size of the town

commissioned by the town.

How could we rule from now on?





Ocean View


The previous tenants

covered the wall with a life-size photograph

of the shore on the other side.

The wall made for a nice view.

Sunbeams. Bird. Permacloud. Unlike

the shoreline, shifting

against the horizon.

The previous tenants

left behind their clothes, their bed, their food & drink.

And we have their gun if they come back.





Terms of Use


I promise

nothing will ever come between us


and our interface,


not after

that antitechnotic


took the place of every k-stroke


with pictograms made of parenthetical

marks and arrows


of all the ways I could be bent

and penetrated


were I to actualize

beyond my predetermined allotment.


Due to the memory



and system limits


all concurrent programs will be shut down


moving forward

prior to any uploading of stimulus,


such as songs


made out of the binary deposits

of my user’s voice,


without which we could not fund our operation.