bong spirits


With my left hand automatic writing.

Three taps and the spirit begins, hungry

for my attention. We’re all hungering

with need. Bring me my water pipe, my tea,

chaos. What is a ghost but compulsion

personified? I am as compulsive

as it comes. You quote Shelley, I Byron.

Cockspur; we still quote men who don’t forgive,

forget or learn from their mistakes. Spirit,

mayhem, bring your mouth low. I have dead aunts,

mothers, sisters that only you recall.

Tap out my love to them. Be the poet

that I’ll never be; mumbling in trance,

just more wet clay with a lisp and a drawl.

apocryphal thing

Fruit flies drift around my glass-pipe. Cheeba

spirits — perhaps? A friend sends me ink flow

pix, thick thighs, spandex and short-shorts, extra

around the belly. I love my friend, though

we’re a world apart. Ghosts are everywhere,

like love. Dr. Teeth told us to, “Begin,

Believe, Begat.” But to start an affair

is an apocryphal thing with a friend.

Everything will change. I brush away specks.

On the laptop, Ganjasaurus Rex, plays.

I feel that heavy cold spot when I’m not

doing right but that need for friends, love, sex

leaves me low. To be appeased with just praise;

to have someone who might quell my distraught.


Loretta hon, you know the elder will. Not only that, but you’ll be sent out on a quest to get the GECK….

Also the Arroyo elder is just like “My daughter sometimes I swear to GOD” XD

Based off of this post