video from the darkside

of my pantaloons! Enjoy this video (also, I don't think pantaloons is the correct, spelling, but I'm going to go with it).



text:
howling at the moon: joy


never sing of the great
battle of the
young man

venturing down the steps and
the blonde with the dog
wine.

sing of the hymn of a battle
yet to be born,

rusted aluminum placards
adorning lofty
offices of some university

with trim beards.

old stumbles the fourth
will
recite a poem
and the la
lahs

will go gah.

we can forgive ourselves simple
miseries and nonchances.

we must.

more moon gloom

Hey guys, here is the next poem in the series 'Howling at the Moon.' Enjoy!



text:
howling at the moon: suicide


every woman
is a new dream

contained by Hollywood
and hedonism.

a new man arrives at a porch signing
a silence in the evening;
thin light traces scabs
on his cheeks,
he sticks his tongue out

and is in the house in moments.

every woman is
a dream
begun in the wake
of the last;

every woman
is
a dream

unmade by the possibility of
low lying car
hoods, creature comforts,
apartment tenants’ screams,

and ugly rice paper dolls hanging
in shop windows.

I dream of every woman
full of love and
then some.

the vandal breaks a vase;
he steps into the bathroom;
he bleeds in the sink.

a new video series for a new month

Hey guys, this video series features poems titled 'howling at the moon.' Watch me, goggles, earbuds, red lights, and words, turn into sheer terror! Ha ha ha! ...by the way, the text is at the bottom.



text:
howling at the moon: in the air


I can feel the cat

awful and new
with
a face
full of moon.

a world made of rusty cans
and
newspaper articles
and

ugly bookstores and
hip

kids with water guns.

something is in the air tonight
even
now
prowling sideward
and loose

and it is reminiscent of a seventeen
year old

in his parents’
kitchen

howling silently with the moon