Status Updates From HSTQ: Spring 2021

"we can mix drugs
and good fun
even if we suffer
from existential despair
all we have to do
is talk less and connect more"

"says that fucker camus

says the idea of ideas, and i
see what he means but i
still believe in both words and the
silences between them"

"All of them
self-directed even with nowhere to go
and how they went there twice
without compunction or regret,
never once looking back."

"Years later, I was known for chasin’
Women, but I was good at duckin’
Bullets by then."

"I look like a taxidermy"

"Poetry is
3 parts wankery
1 part substance
and 2 parts style
(on a good day)"

He was a drama major
took voice lessons
studied the art of gesticulation
and facial movement
(he can say volumes
with just an eyebrow)
He combs his hair
dresses tastefully
doesn’t want anything to distract the audience
from his art

You wanted to play Chess
but nah bitch,
we gonna play Twister.
That’s what I do—
I’m a game changer.
Since you had me all twisted up
in your twisted mind

‘And if you’re looking for your shoes
you’ll find them in the freezer
where you put them last night!’

Last night my girlfriend came to bed
wearing only a brown leather jacket.
Wow, I said, cool jacket, but then
she pointed to a hole in it. Oh, that sucks,
I told her. It’s ruined. No, she answered
in between kissing me and reaching
into my boxers. This is the jacket
Andy Warhol was wearing back in ‘68
when that crazy woman shot him.

he takes a step forward
so i do the same

almost nose to nose in the fresh meat aisle

as people around us pick pork chops
and plan their evening meals

supermarket tough guys on a monday morning

I was in North Beach just drinking and walking around.
It was a bright and lovely day with people outside doing things
and feeling generally good about the world.

you stupid piece of fuck meat, I told her
and smacked her tit. I don’t even love you.
you love me though, don’t you?
uh huh! she nodded.
why? I asked her.
because I’m a stupid piece of fuck meat! she said.
atta girl, I slapped her tit some more ...

we can plug the holes of our treachery
with our stubbed toes
our tears
and our ripped $2 bill

Poetry is
3 parts wankery
1 part substance
and 2 parts style
(on a good day)