This is the post it project. I don't mind if you've done it before. ShoneOne. Til' After Death.

So i've decided I'll do anything to not grade papers. I'll even post a blog about how much I do not want to grade papers. I'll even talk to cops, and judges and such. I'll even go back to school. I'll even have a drink. Maybe even a cigarette. No I doubt a cigarette. But still. I just don't want to grade papers. I might even pet a dog. But not a stupid little dog. Maybe a pitbull or a husky or a wolf. howl.
oh just have a poem.


as if by another skin
Lone and a last name, Korean perhaps. I would like to simplify this; it is not a situation of all threads gone to waste in a basket heavy with the promise of being sewn up.
I am indicative of none, and when that isn’t quite enough I am indicative of nothing. A portion of my self is the minutes I share with my tongue. My ruddy cheeks may be splintered but I am the only one left to feel it.
If I just stopped and thought for a second then I could pause and think for a second then I could hold on a minute and process for a second that really thought is not automatic, not now.
I want to install you and you alone, but I can’t do that. Do I install a people or perhaps a place, I need to slide this grease from me, weighing me down against this felt covered cardboard. It is not my fault; it is inevitable.
You and you and the little small mirror carried around in your small purse by you. It is difficult to think like this, without representation or virtue. I want to write to you but only to cut you and make you bleed.
Substantial is the prick from a pin. It is in this demeanor that I demean you. The past is not the rising present, nor is the future the seldom heard. I am by this a violent piece of wood. Even still. I cannot progress from here, a senseless act in the middle of a meager meal.
I will drop symbols to show you the order of these semantics and how you cannot refuse them, so embedded are they in the reaches.
It is too bad perhaps always and never enough. I want my sentence to be chunky and I want to live it as clumsy as I can, beneath its girth and above its standpoint. I can wallow for years and look into the emptiness of a glass green bottle for the rest of this. Nothing is allowable but it is entirely tolerated.

the new book.

this is part of the new book. text and art. or design and text or design and art or art is dead.

I'm not sure. but hop along little doggies. this is new shpace.

::

Interchangeable:: like the word for god.

this

wear it on your chest.

I wroted this for you.

data silence

Ask me to leave you here, the parchment of my paper enveloped in clouds and a melodious distance that can only entangle my thoughts like the river red arteries that bind your heart to a vacant promise.

It is quite the woe that leaves me planted like ice dreams in a hot forest with translucent pastimes leading to middle futures. I want inside to be you I want outside to be me.

If I touched you in a place you found unbearable where bones can only see. If I touch you there would you remember who you were before I grazed your sanity with a sliver of myself too convoluted to be sold, too indefinable to be bought.

I want to live outside of myself she said. I want to be who I am not. I want the world to exchange shadows for my silhouette, trading selves for selves, and re-enacting shorelines of a greater diamond.

When the yawn comes I want to be ready for it. I want to split the seed between my teeth and let the force of my lungs blow it beneath the earth. I want you to grow there under wilted petals above the inclusive terms of nature. The cycle burned out like oiless engines. Breathing in gems of your saliva asking the non-existent for the remnants of what it means to be human and heavy with prayer.

I want to slice spit with my lips so sharp you bleed inside, hemorrhage from the force the inadequate tide that releases me from salt. The sea of my sores clasping together like claws from a crab. Red and blistered I pulse my feet, dragging like epilogues and silo’s.

Does it cost much to translate oneself into human?

Do you bend at the hot fragrance of a new summer. One that bleeds Los Angeles, one that mistakes addicts for angels and hookers for stars. Angels of a reckless afternoon. Here in houses that crack under impeding nevers. How dark can I make the light that I shine through… Who will call the epoch a quatrain. Who will douse their melted sin in the anguish of a new set of ethics.

Placas

What set you claim? What?

When I first heard this song. I knew that I loved it. Here Have some lyrics.

I was raised in the hood called what the dif? what the..
The brothers in the hood be Chivalrous
So i rest defense on my ligaments
Pistol grip pump on my lap, riskin it
Full life living it, never giving it back
Too late for slipping, so slack...up
On my lap its on your lips so track shot
A steel dick more clip for pump but
All im saying there aint no question who the man is
In my civic or in this showbiz
I shit a fool, kill the fool
Come on what you say?
i think i can take care of all you muthafuckaz don't delay right away

Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Fools be jackin' other fools, but they ain't be jackin mine!

Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times, right?
Cause tricks be out for your blind side
Never understood it, but remember i showed you
That in the nineties you gotta look over your shoulder, strap
Well that ain't nothin' but the intent of gettin high
And a cop giving you shit for just passing you by
If your ever in trouble or on the double best to call your pals
If you ain't got none, bitch, I got a million styles!
Whose around me?
Are we getting along? we family, we better be
We got your back, we got your back kid
Just dont be pointing one of them guns, aiight man...

Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Fools be jackin' other fools, but they ain't be jackin mine!
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Fools be jackin' other fools, but they ain't be jackin mine!

Rhymin' iz a sinch, sonavabitch, I'm rich!
But that don't mean you can get me, cuz all my peoplez is pimps!
Playaz, hustlaz, pimpz, all been through the filter...
I hang wit' my doggz man, fuck a gorilla
Iller, coddaba, hilla, bings...
Show me have a enough steam, to blow me up, run up, what up, shutup!
A trick get the buck-shotz
Your daughter get the luv, a lot, yer outtie, at the cemetary...
Man, she loves me, and not a single solitary, witness, to the party
And if you didn't know, should've asked somebody...
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times!!!

Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Fools be jackin' other fools, but they ain't be jackin mine!
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times...
Fools be jackin' other fools, but they ain't be jackin mine!

Pistol grip pump
Pistol grip pump
Pistol grip pump
Yeah...
Pistol grip pump
Pistol grip pump
Pistol grip pump
Ay man, Ay.