Daniel Bailey's Blog, page 27

here is a blog post just glad to be bloggin i know that i've been lax on the bloggin in the past but you should all know how much i care and wanna be

hello my name is daniel james bailey
i want to show you some things

here is a baby made of grass

here is a watch that tells you when someone is thinking about killing you

here is a goblin that wants to live under your stairs and clean your apartment with its blood

here is a grape that when you smash it between you ass cheeks will feed the world three times over

here is a thing that will make you more powerful and make more people read your blog and make you a better poet

here is the grand canyon filled with all the dead kids in dead poets society while everyone who played an extra in that movie stands above and laughs

today on a walk with the dog i saw man clap four times and then yell "IM COMING UP. IM COMING UP. IM COMING UP," while pumping both fists in the air and then "THANK YOU JESUS. THANK YOU JESUS. THANK YOU JESUS. THANK YOU JESUS."

here is me as a baby

here is a golf ball after hearing about tiger woods losing sponsorships

here is a map of the world if the mormons are right

here is how to get from denver to hell (just change denver to wherever you live if you want to go to hell)

here is a baby made of angels

HERE IS A LINE FROM EACH POEM OF THE BOOK I AM WRITING WHICH IS RIGHT NOW CALLED BELLIGERENTELK.DOC

sprouting and growing twice as tall as a human being

scream more seemingly reaped

my only tongue is the one crafted of silence

there are people in this world who were born without

a sentence begun

of the church of you

sometimes my butt 2freaky

I kiss with the wind

the floor licks your syndrome to the bone

oh baby

it's like I remembered to wear my wet suit

your o is the ice

the highway of my prayer-lined heart

you are

you are the one

time zones all up in this bitch

unravel some more

it is all right to learn nothing

I am filled with so much wonder

I'm not even there anymore do I need a haircut I can't even tell

another heartyelp betrayed

if you want to live forever imagine every heartbeat as a new heartbeat

my head is muddy

o fog lead me lost into my being

my presence in this world has been defined by light and time: give me more time

the earth still moving the earth still moving

I am shining brilliantly on my way down the stairs

untie the balloon

be my lake that I drink until barf of it

the babies being born

I say now

I feed a flower to a microscope and it shows me its heart

John Calvin had so many moments

I can no longer be still

the last 10 people i talked to

elizabeth
kid from indianapolis (on the phone, wrong number)
mom (on the phone)
foreign (indian maybe?) 7-11 employee
surly barista at hooked on colfax
neighbor jason
neighbor jonathan
bartender at beauty bar
i don't remember
i don't remember

dream

last night i dreamed that andrei tarkovsky led me through some sort of path to enlightenment. first he took me to a field covered in a grid of mole hills. people stood, arms outstretched into a T position, between each mole hill and i joined them. each mole hill geysered boiling steam every twenty-five seconds and we stretched out our arms and let the steam burn our arms. this was, as andrei explained, a rite of passage. then he led me up a giant wooden obstacle course that climbed the side of a mountain (it took a long time to climb). at the top of the mountain was a stone castle that served as a mental institution for giants. we threw stones at the giants and watched them recoil and become angry...

i hope this dream continues tonight.

alexander vvendsky's frother

via we who are about to die, here is an incredible animation of alexander vvendsky's poem frother.

polestar poetry series

nyc people, i will be reading at this.



you probably will be too.

brendon small

this is my only christmas tradition

i wish i had been born in borneo

alternate titles for this blog post: "the borneo of oreos" and "there is never anything on the tv ever"

the second title would be followed by a television saying "yeah? well, watch this," followed by the television pissing into its own mouth.

this week i judged an essay contest for middle schoolers in which they wrote about martin luther king jr. none of them mentioned anything about assassination or the fear of obama being tebowed up to heaven by someone who tea partied too hard. one of them talked about being bullied and seemed afraid to give any specific examples. i doubt that the assigning teacher took the time to talk to the kid about bullying.

this week i wrote a few poems for a book of poetry that i'm working on. i'm about 80% done, i'd say. that will be my third book of poetry. the second book should be out (hopefully) in the next few months. i don't want to say anything official about it. i'll let that be officially announced by the official publishers (not me).

i need to walk my dog, i'll be back.

i'm back.

this is the alley behind my apartment.


this my foot walking.


this is my dog walking.


this is my dog's shadow.


this is a bush that doesn't know how to properly wear a sweater.


this is my dog peeing.



in the future, uploading photos to the internet will take less than a split second, which is not an actual measure of time.
in the future, images will be uploaded to the internet directly from the user's blood.

here is an awesome picture i found on wikipedia's page about the aorta.



i want to blog without remorse. i want to blog so hard that my aorta bursts and floods the rest of my body with it's gravy. i want this blog to quote unquote itself until it makes the noise of a freshly turned off television. i want this blog to be devoured by the creative writing at colorado state university facebook page and for everyone who's ever read a word to become all the words that they've read and then we will all just be shitty people trying very hard to not be shitty people. i want to mummify the earth's atmosphere. "ugh. give it to me," i say as i end this paragraph filled with soul.

every time i tell someone that i'm in school for poetry they start blathering about how that's so cool and how that's a really great skill to have and that it will pay off, like it will help me get a job and help me be useful, but i think the reason i write poetry is to become as useless as i can possibly become, to become a spec of dirt coated in motor oil spilled from the dirt bike of someone so rich that they have never even heard of this space, the internet.

tomorrow, i fly to michigan to be home with my family over christmas. i'm excited to spend time there, to not be in denver for once, to watch christmas day nba games with my brother, to watch whatever weird movies are available on demand, to eat food that isn't mine, to drink beer that isn't mine, to sleep in a bed that isn't mine in a house that isn't mine. elizabeth will be with her own family in rochester, ny, so there will be no nim chimpsky style hyjinx this holiday season. tonight is my last night at work until february. tomorrow a plane and then another plane. each day thousands of planes fly above us, unnoticed. each day, the worms below us, the bacteria inside us. everyone in the world, give me a high five. now let's get lunch and think of only lunch. let us dream of the next space lunch, shooting upward until space is fed and full.

i gave my mfa reading a few weeks ago so here are some pix of me reading