I have a new short fiction on pangur ban party today :)
this is really gorgeous and makes me feel a bunch of feelings. i was also surprised that a photo of my bedroom wall accompanies the last bit.
Thnx for readin’ and Tumblin’ ;D
Ben Austin is like an actual genius, part poet, part CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD NOW, part legitimate smart guy, part “could be any guy.”
By actual coincidence, last month I was in the same neighborhood in North Carolina that he was, and after we figured that out via twitter, we met up. It was odd but great to meet someone I liked a whole lot without knowing anything at all about, like what it must have been like to meet chat room friends in the 90s. We sat for maybe an hour, I spilled my third cup of coffee on the table.
Two excellent poems by Ben Austin appear in 2013, Another Year of Unsolicited Advice & Anecdotes, you are going to love them!
organic musc christina shirts
i’ve time soft fucked afar
i’m like that sex
at friends fems brains bros
you’re like actually feminine
it’s azealia mothers
it’s aguilera’s awesome fur
like thinkin, disagreeing, like: “don’t penises,
some bear azealia?”
(collab w/ Jaakko Pallasvuo)
Life is waves. Waves
create a craving for Dr. Pepper,
something sweet after salty somersaults that get water in yr inner
ear, and deft kelp evasion, and hours and hours
coaxing friends deeper in but they never want to go out as far as you—
past the point of wave-beaten, past the point
of even being subject to waves,
where the huddled ocean cups you and blows like soup.
Some diagnoses require a different type of medicine,
like shots of expensive silver tequila reminiscent of beach sand
or smooth pie crust like a desert island
which may just be the proven psychological tide of butter,
but what’s the difference?
Life is waves.
In terms of spectral dynamics,
and guitar riffs, and ambulance sirens
and your “type” of guy, which is basically any pipe
cleaner over 6’2— who all eventually say move
on— and especially with tattoo
pain and the nerve death before a root
canal, or calls from the reservation
to say someone else is in the hospital or passed
on, and sudden 98 degree days when you jet to meet
one of yr gentlemen jetties but forget to signal
into the fast lane on the freeway and the SUV next to you crashes
into the divider and rolls and you had summer school
life is waves.
But to a lesser extent,
how about kneeling
close to shore, or sitting down
in small sharp waves. The breakers
fill your mouth like salty chocolates.