listen to your toothbrush
your mattress
your shower & washing machine
your toilet
they know you well.
they worship
your taste.

let's have a fight and not

let's have a fight and not
call it a fight let's
call it a discussion
let's restrain ourselves
so what we say remains
unsaid let's exchange
what we have said we value
and pretend that
none of it exists
let's also pretend
we can survive as each
not both let us
reframe what we've declared
as something other than
and offer to recline
decline incline lose spine
as if were were one thing
let's fail once
and for all to be one thing
let us insist upon
our thoughts let's never
talk let us think privately
of how the world is
for the world is
this completely non-bombastic
place let's say
we live here both or each
let us continue
blocking off the senses
from our minds let us invent
new minds immune to other minds
and think recall refresh
resynch resist refine
recline rescind


disparate salvaged thoughts

how a benefit is not the same as an avoidance of repercussion.

how i never learned to apply eyeshadow properly.

how this all of a sudden concerns me.

how the arrangement of stone brings bodies to convergence.

how architecture accomodates sunlight.

sculpture gardens, two turntables and a stack of vinyl.

my sadistic curiosity. letting loose a flutter of moths into glass cages of venus flytraps and pitcher plants.

to swim in a lake of gold dust, a stone against a river's rush.

how facts shift with perception.

bottlecap mementos and shifts in inflection.

semblance of a face in the rust of a tin can.

face that is a crescent moon.

sleep displacing night streaming lilt flutter barrel.

to become salt, to risk dissolution.

to crawl so far into one's own subjectivity unchecked.

linkages purely associative, acquired from years of non-speech.

relevance slipping.

work. stilted. onset. recoil.

bring me. finish me.

i used to dream of a child named diwa, then i dreamt of a child with no name.



hours on a boat

drums and summer


"we are made of stars"

feels like a myth i read

once. what i should

have been. quiet. safe.

a girl with

volume control. barely

breathing. amnesiac &

struck mute. dull &

undiscerning. bruised

from so much manhandling.

accustomed to acts of insincerity.

unfinished and insensate.

quality control of uncultured pearls.

weirdly unfamiliar.

snap and pans









Take a spinet or harpsichord and split
it into thin strips for making hats, bonnets, or baskets.
Warm over a fire made of dried buffalo-dung.
Flip once, letting it land in the dust
of the last sand-trap between you and the green--
heads, you lose; tails, you lose.
Place a silicon wafer on your tongue,
and call it Jesus.

Lips teetering on the brinks of coffee mugs,
we chattered beside the halting brook,
green ferns standing all about.

"Into this wild Abyss the warie fiend
Stood on the brink of Hell and look'd a while."

The point of being, doing . . .
rather like finding in an East End junk shop
a postcard photo of a yodeling group
from your hometown, and yet conjuring up
succulent meals for your friends despite
the wartime austerities you, among others, faced.

--Halvard Johnson


The run of history in a thick soup of rain


The brown coloured condiment in a clear bottle


The inexpensive aftershave and give away shampoo


Two pairs of runners on a canvas chair


An empty tin
unironed shirts
and traffic sounds

rattling in the moist breeze on a historic evening
of words surrendering in the mouths of politicians
in sombre dress

grey hair dyed dark
and tasteful ties with moderate knots

are the co-ordinates of sincerity
in the eradication of war


Telly dressed leaders

- consigned to the history
of a passionate cause
lining pockets of co-operation in
the equality of flags and parades -

become a jumble of yesterday's news
holding the chips for tommorow's game

of cold coiled reality, torqued to a level
of trust constantly tied, tested and untethered
by events which depart and return with the simplistic
consistency of two tribes lying in wait for a sign of belief

in each other's right to live on a land rich in the conflicting songs
of a patriot dead who died for truth and lies put into their heads
through centuries of silent wrongs and bloodthirsty rights.



Ha-Bla Zoondojobloom

[second] candied crutch dangles
sur [simple]
i [see]
name [sub]
stall the silver studd
ed [dean]
dum [plus]
airs that oblivion [bump]
whose aleatoric amp
er [blimp]
sa [sonar]
nds carrier
finish the carpetting
of the cubicles
w [aver]
ith [illsup]
a whole
some [sorry]
pain [preen]
ting [pari passu]
of two fe
male hu [mba baa]
man [mons string]
snak [tens]
such distant galaxies [goo]
in their solvent skins
skinks tails[' winds]
go up [winking]
to heaven [s scum]
the little lovers
"me's" marriage's body [rafts]
which puppet outrigging
on strong vestigial
winglocks [loom]
interposing [pura]
and turbine [binoculars]
in the corollary
of the wishing
can you see this poet's
amritsar [whistling]
a couch where all the world
will complex its jewel stinging will-skin
amorphous jaguar volcano face
that cruellest [cow of hello wine-sad castle rishi]
of organizations
atomicopulaquadra [mang]
down in this well [ull]
of infinite spiralling
bunk [bat]
bed uni
[vasania scope]
"croaking toad cloud thorn"

i be hatin' sucka MC's

It's 8:23 in New
networks wonder

snicker the pigeons
other's replace

the trees walk
managing attracting

a single surprises
each sorts

but no

Hello and Recent Events

It's 8:23 in New York, and the government's been up and about
since 4. Fused networks wonder about our obligations both to look

and to snicker. In Lorca Square Park, the pigeons are gathering news
of each other's dreams, while squirrels replace the Post-its fallen

from the trees. Browsers set to their default preferences walk their dogs
through the streets, managing to take their revenge without attracting

the attention of a single eyewitness. Pleasant surprises await
at each and every corner. Trees that are landmarks of sorts give

quality sap, but there's no way of knowing how many remain
down in basements, calling things as they see them.

--Halvard Johnson


rites passed winds farewell

along afloat
sleeping a fall
the great inner start
hid my boundless attempt
of what must ablaze

that night his weather
with shelter
the influence dims
from its form

a chain root
be under my skin
as lack conditions hips
empting so passed
into stillness

witness of the waking
of which new danger
is the movement
of the curved wide
heartbeat it sprouts

of course I love this darkness
and change complexes
as thought

a spider songs gestures
his specific certainty
celebrating to climb a fence
it accentuates a time
when ritual passes unified
intellection curtails
on his violets
his comparison is what body
would stand for reason

questioned hours assume
a duplicative surface
the spark scenting
the smooth sidelong positions
responding to
not necessarily to what's right

indications to what uses touch
befalling the insight
implicitly to suggest there
we rode the parable
jammed full and rented
as an art

the chair brushing
my anklet
has suggestions
to how willingness logs
and swarms in boundless
simple property

both distance and care
watch over the lyric
fielding steps
plucking disturbance
from mind
as sudden as fact
lies toward and out
only because towards
is to gain some direction of age

but whole is hostility
a passel of concerns
the lens that shapes
the existing whitening
the sentence within the phrase
entrapping the features
of how falls worry the thoughts
of clouds as they cover


Gracile Feverse

a fever graces the truncated bird
round the undulant circumference

a fever graces the calculating orb
round the immovable immanence

a fever graces the decimating sound
round the volatile sentience

a fever graces the wordless surd
round the igneous decimal

a fever graces the ominous vowell
round the intractable luminous

a fever graces the vigorous sty
round the aqueous abominable

a fever graces the chitonous thigh
round the invincible nodular

a fever graces the peristaltic sigh
round the unguiculate council


bird orb sound surd
vowell sty thigh sigh


a fever
a fever
a fever

forever graces

round and round
and round

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Let's go dutch



Newness nets (USS cup
puking zulu) not under
contract cabaret under
w/o not: clean clan hand
web cam and (protestant
2000cm how done return
post-ablist + press down?)


Visions from the edge

 light's origin

    let shadows
    to contrast

© Dreaming in Neon


Neural Loops

with diagrams of loops, rolls, and . . . new, virtual cherry,
his slightest neural twitch, reflexes, over welling tears and frantically

longs looks looms loops loose loots . . . teach teams tears tease
teems . . . cheesy cherry
cherub chests . . . netted nettle neural neuron neuter . . . rallies
rambler rambles

mail deneb lisa blue oberon felix tom . . . gatorbox black woody
cherry stimpy smith pascal . . . oink
nucleus noel neural naxos mueller . . . reef red ravi rambler raleigh raider

it's new, virtual cherry, and the bar . . . to his slightest neural
twitch, reflexes cranked
way . . . out of that blue-green Bolivian sky

Pacific Coast Rambler is the second . . . digital pulses, neural synapses fire
Are you a gambler? By now it is, in addition, day neutral strawberries
are produced . . .

look for the yellow or green nymphs . . . An amber gambler is one made
from apple juice,
custard--a yellow sauce used as a very neutral term

tan cafe claro violet violeta white blanco yellow amarillo DAYS OF THE
towel toalla (f.) MEALS COMIDAS apple manzana (f.) banana platano

the help afterwards. Neutral ground for both of us, black, yellow,
red, and especially . . . you're
a champion gambler? I never offered . . . in the big >>apple! I would have felt

something of the gambler's excitement in the attachment of some
transparent neutral coating,
of extreme fleeting apples, other than the yellow and the red

radio, black-and-yellow figurine (who looks . . . and the occasional
apple are all stuffed . . . Milhouse,
the unknown gambler, "Homer's Phobia . . . have any neutral ones? "May . . .

abuse - general - neutral - federalist - constitution . . . cool -
Coward - Yellow - Bad
breath . . . surveyor - apple - Revolution - Wig . . . statesman -
gambler - visionary . . .

there a few apple-trees stand together . . . smoothly over the yellow
floor of the . . . country
with a gambler's desperatin, for it . . . cold and melancholy neutral
tint, and . . .

ran past with a yellow piece of paper . . . m famished." The gambler
drawled, ready and . . . she
seized the neutral topic with great . . . sat together over apple pie and black

sexual connotations; and "neutral" words that become . . . by a
dashing gambler. With Kathryn
Grayson . . . 26270 Cross the Yellow River on a . . . in the Big
Apple. In Spanish

Situation Language formal formal informal informal neither very formal nor very
informal neutral Four main things help you to decide how formal or
informal a . . .

are not simply >neutral vehicles of data . . . of cyan, magenta,
yellow, black. As the . . . than
an Apple one, Lincolnshire . . . apparently unsucessful, gambler). I
understand . . .

jacket and a yellow sweater is dragged . . . ends up a gambler,
heavily in debt . . . Virgin a
golden apple and confesses that . . . pessimism. Not a neutral
observer of history . . .

one of the Dutch still lifes he's sourced for the painting. Swatches of yellow
on the painting's surface start to take form. These monochromes share the . . .

his amusement behind a neutral smile, secretly quite . . . Her tiny
Adam's Apple bobbed
up and down just above that yellow terrycloth of his . . . oh-so-sure
gambler and the oh-so-up-

front of each corresponding border. The American dissembled his amusement behind
a neutral smile, secretly quite pleased with himself. She was just too perfect

goes running by. The old grumbler sleeps, laid out by the Jacob's crackers, Dr
Tipple's Vi-Cocoa, and a white theatre or a pink something coalescing
all but one

--Halvard Johnson



on the
sidewalk left side
street "gun,
point" collision (vomit
vodka) right
side up to
sun acute
(ness) prostrate shuffled
the actual
existence of the,"
face arm
in elbow (chicken
jumble'd "tacos
and beans" sleeve
'pugnance syndrome
death coarse during
sidewalk 'festation"
washing dog bowl
eye one
motion low level
your, and
sip" sand papered
motions and
talking saying during
strength as
valued is as
'rupt (that
there) seeps lying
the ground
(name?) hole-n-wall syndrome
attacks it"
can't see through
most moving
to any level
the parking
garage "taking that
wooden desk
chair metal hesitate
conducting one
passport to another
cycled from
protagonist as principled
blistering up
lips and face'd
derived scrapping
shrunk stuttered (ingless)
disorderly damaging
wrist turned out
back (units
her) sidewalk sickness


Pestilential Sonnet

Pestilential Sonnet

(after J. V. Cervantes)

The President prays to his helicopter. "Why me, O, Lord,
why me? Some folks sit on the fence, waiting for the voice
from the whirlwind. I gotta make my own wind." Small
needy voices in utero whisper to him. The President prays
in his helicopter. Grass bends in his breeze. Dogs run away.
The power button is carried aboard by an aide. It doesn't
simply vanish when the President sets foot in his helicopter,
heading for his weekend of prayer at Camp David. History
seems to take a time-out as the President flies from one
place to another. It gets up from its place on the couch
and visits the fridge and the bathroom. To his dogs on
the White House lawn the President shrinks to the size
of a gnat in the gut of a huge whirlybird of prey. Picking
at his scabs, the President soars above the drought-plagued
farmland below him. "Why me, O, Lord? Why on my watch?
What next? (he wonders) locusts and frogs? Babies dying
in their mothers' rooms . . . I mean wombs. Why me, O,
Lord? Why make it so hard for me to get the words right?"


Halvard Johnson



"Dirt is an irregularly published
newsletter/'zine of ultra-simple,
minimalist poetry and poetics.
Contributions should be no more
than a few short lines -- at most."

go to Dirt...

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how you can tell if you are not already dead

the clanky fish repel platonic force of numbness amid decibels
confused with sacramodal periwind

unless pertinent silence over-
trusts what -- baked
on shore . . .


this damage from the instant heart rebuilt, recaptured, stalled . . .


words readily defined claim gardens to resist


drawn ashore and dwindled by the next-tier fire


still fortified melodically


these sprigs of an effeminate surprise



little inspiration from Tom Beckett's e-x-c-h-a-n-g-e-v-a-l-u-e-s

Interview with Geof Huth by Crag Hill and Ron Silliman.



your tidiness is extrasensory
your image, an amalgam of platonic sketch
your heartbeat shatters nine-tenths of my privacy
your accomplishments all in color even out the spectrum
your indifference amounts to fluid sentiment
your parts of speech conform to a spacific dwarf peach tree
your ubiquity infers the everlastingness of mathematics
your columnar appearance speaks to substance
your woodwind instruments afford white space
your instincts all possess a lifetime of finesse
your health wears every shawl still in your home
your mantra is a blueblood microphone
your nautical accountability allows the pond to remain round
your singing voice is sterling in a white row
your intellect appears contagious
your leaning to monastic shelter braves me
your violets tilt in the direction of new prescience
your intergalactic downtime thrust into the figurative sea
your infinity is my patch of morning glories very plurally endowed

yeah okay see

I started taking it too seriously
I did the website
I carefully considered my next move

I'm no longer amused
I've got you and myself to thank
but I take the blame better

we're both wankers
though I'm done with over-stimulation
this won't be all I've written

New at e-x-c-h-a-n-g-e-v-a-l-u-e-s

"the cities below go on without"

There are those birds
concerned with resource,
trend, and crime.
They tend to bounce about
talking to other animals
about tolerance for gays,
spending the rest of time
aiding one another through illness
and complex ideas
as when to use forks
and how much to breathe.
They are the copyists tastes
for how the sky should streak,
the conditions, they say,
for when all can look up
at the clear many of us.

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On Close Inspection

-- On close inspection, all literature is probably a version
of the apocalypse... on the fragile
border where identities do not exist...

--Julia Kristeva, The Powers of Horror

on close inspection the

its m(ore)other or
rather another
figure, say Charles

Bronson & spaghetti
similie of

a western
pronoun? On


wanted more
of the romanticist

him-ming in church or

horror of

by the

on waves

where the hair

to a wisp
an eyebrow caress
continuing past

2004 a (your?) face
on close
inspection borrowing

a carnation riot
of pigment
(all) rise

to grow they
(are) unnoticed

the hand

a noun
and a verb

as is mind
where tinnitus,
timid will--

form a close inspection
of noise--
where the I

drives a late model red
to a beach

a conch

for a new

--chris murray--

Occasionally I visit the real world #3

      reload reality


f today(u) = wannabe

click image to enlarge
please see #2 here

ba it is s hale

or is petite re
move the the sis
an y more th an
wamp um g or e
pram sitter f ans
the ob vio us
us tan go in g
a round th um b
lan key sin gle d
out ter rain



           one day
   black and white
are shades of grey

at the level
of each

on the
surface toned plane

blue summer surpasses
politics driving

to exceed
self and selves

apart from other
facing coughs
of tired flight

across space points
covered over

itself diminishing
amid sorrow bells

that cloister voice
through broadcast

delivering what
is deemed viable

merely a habit
of required

venom to
pierce the reluctance

toward advancing pulse
assigned leaves

the level
of discerned blue


the awareness
happens, to begin

We stopped in the middle of the road
the land dark and empty
you noticed

you could hear the earth




a small note to Z


indie pen dance day



normed daylight sponges average
meaning (surface of the common plan,
formed sense of sea, a layered
solace from this time

(a face lost facts placed through
the scattered cool beneath
pale melody in wind
drawn over pewter slips

of method acting under
glass still clustered
near a hidden hollow line
supporting fruit curved

into gravity (the town
undone along the street
still signified by home
these two young places

friday in chinatown

lychees is
like eating fire.

Wholesale Luck

"Good Luck"

if i had a nickel for every time
i heard that
i wouldn't need luck

i'd buy it and then
sell it wholesale

to all the other
poor bastards
in my situation

hey -
gotta make a living


You can reach us when we are receiving

again, ever been, wander bound
to the familiar, and followed
to get home, which, unafraid
how clear a wasted use, can
as they are, roost to remember
the slowly learnt, as a living,
on the grace it owes, stands
and sends and used to stand
and become alight with only
feelings, means so much, stay
to be aware of the struggle,
even for to be seen, there's need,
there is here for the overtaken


turn aroma
"around" stinky pants
cannot without
persuasion pulls his
on uniform
entire wardrobe stench
morning] not
grimace "you're backyard"
sun/shadow/leaves inert
ash't bbq left
box stacks
on another "just
yesterday," minimum
(lack) new shorts
striped [who
asks it] question
your garments?"
no grown sprung
no laces
roughshod't 3 boxes
now massed
(say shaggy) 'look't
temporary not
a yard less
away (form
'genics) you're treatment
"just, yoga,
salvation by faith,
average height
5'9' 'orable exit