Realizing at the end of your life that you wasted it all is the story of civilization up until now.

And I mean all leaders. Not just the obvious piles of garbage.

The more I think about leaders and leadership the more anarchy as a form of social “order” makes sense. As it stands our leaders are junk. And they are all complicit in turning the crank of the meat grinder we are all trapped in.

Say the obligatory
Say ‘the fire’
Say all the purgatory things
I’ll fight you in my skinny
After a cold water swim
Plunge with an axe
Split don’t chop
I’ll turn off the TV
And come stand
By your side
On the bricks that
you arranged.
You’re nude now
and I’m behind a curtain.

Excellent

There is no divide in my heart between worlds human or animal as the bombs fall from the sky my grief is unbearable and I cry every day.
My body is an old cedar arched over the water, grasping the basalt a billion years old. I will grieve for you all, cross my roots with you and always remember.

I kinda hate all y’all
Complacent do nothing
Silent artist types
Pedantic, correcting for the man
Of the institution
You know who you are
And I see you
With my crows and ravens
With my murder
Take and don’t give
Complain and need need need
Yeah I see you
In the broad daylight
You oppressors

We don’t own the land.
We are of the land.

The authoritarian, nepotist, colonialism of our earth, hearts minds and bodies stops here.

Be free. May all living things be free.

Build creative systems like reverse labyrinths

Sluice their faces
Wash them in water
In winter
Those who oppress us
We anoint you murderous motherfuckers
To crawl freezing away from
Our home.

Humans must enjoy seeing each other in cages
How else can I stretch morality around reality?
Absurd how easy it is to make breakfast for the whole dang house
Fallen angels are good dancers
Broken people are good guides
A pile of records
While I watch the bad men freeze

a lifetime of hurtin
on the inside can be
salved
by the tappin of a drum
and a finger on the e string
and a swoop to catch
the hand
of a girl you love

Pooch Karton @ High Desert Soundings, 2024. Wonder Valley, CA.

You should think about the descent
Of the anchor
It helps with empathy
Far more than scented candles
Those rank green etchings
Curving like my spine
Forged in flames
Microtonal
Dropped into deeps

Black mustache
soaked in affogato
I’m more fucked up
than you can possibly imagine
he says
But I can imagine a lot
Grief improvises like the weasel
who eats the nymph
who hunts the worm
Teach me then
How to ooze
Ask me a decent question

Dirty hands press against the peak
Sluiced by beaver mud
our toes hold onto the casing
of the bog that eats us
Standing up on a floating beam
calling out directions
That way towards the family
Standing in elegiac mud
It’s funny and fun and they slog
from reading maps
Smiling and still funny

𝒫𝑜𝑜𝒸𝒽 𝒦𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓃 @ 🄲🄾🄼🄼🄾🄽 🅂🄰🄶🄴 Madison, WI 2024

I don’t perceive repetition
Nude in cold waters and nude on the rock
The sun comes in
Strips argument and shines
Vibrating

I don’t perceive repetition the same as you
This is what it sounds like to hear from my head It’s our hearing our windy island we live on
Solar powered drink from the lake
This old clock gives me pause
As if a haircut was like felling trees
Shifting and dividing
Unlike the cedar grove

卩ㄖㄖ匚卄 Ҝ卂尺ㄒㄖ几 ㄥ丨ᐯ乇 @ ᐯㄖㄥㄒ卂Ꮆ乇 匚ㄖ几ㄒ尺ㄖㄥㄥ乇尺

Damn
I wake up on the dirt
moist
no sleeping bag
just this inferno
shirt
but i’m fuckin
COLD
You were a real asshole
in my dream last night
Good thing
that This
is a simulation

The midshipman’s
drone
is less talked about
than its poison
But can you
sing that long?

Here is a string tuned low

You may laugh
but if you are amused
you can buy the record

Call me crazy
But I like to feel good
I like when
Things
feel good
I have nothing
To say
With words
Sound is
My language

Black Rain Ensemble at Resource, Minneapolis. November 1, 2025.

Mothership is green
Fathership is grey
Smothered in fog
Like melted mozzarella
A fat finger points
“Magnetic North”
Where Grendel splinters
Where ink lines
Gone to sea
Would rather be fishing

Synchro slime
Drips from the maw
A beveled edge
Glints with nostalgia
No telling how
Or when
A captured voice
Breaks from its
Heart