Upside-Down Jabberwocky

Here's me reciting Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky" while standing on my head at the University of Arizona's English Department Talent Show, on April 17th:

Supe's Space Fortress

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Millenial Blooper

Here's an outtake from a first rehearsal for the poem "One Hour Happy Millenium." It cracks me up:

To The Geckoes

I Pound You Head

Since There Is No Hell

Landscape With Lorca

Tom Devaney, Lon Chaney

Check out more on Tom Devaney here!

There's A Fire In My Vitals, Said Old Widow

Stanzas Sans Hats

for Alicia Marie Howard

Absorbed In The Park Of Joan Miró

Apology To My Busted Toe

This is the third poem
I've written about a toe.
But the first about you,
Or any of my own toes.
The other two were poems
About the toes of girls
I loved.
I'm sorry you had to snap
Before I paid attention
To you.

A Train Jumped In Front Of A Woman Tonight

Story Of Learning

Anatomía and Anatomy

I'm going to read to you from my book, The Comeback's Exoskeleton. I'll read a few poems each day. Hopefully, time and technology will allow me to read you all of the poems, eventually. I'm going to read in the order the poems appear in the book. I hope you enjoy. The first poem of the book is "Anatomía," in Spanish, with the English translation, "Anatomy," following it:




And here's another version.

That Can-Do Spirit

Miguel de Unamuno was wrong --> it’s not our reflections we fall in love with when we look in another’s eyes --> it’s the scent of our own breath bounced back at us by the breath of the other breather. To my question, Lisa answers “the universe IS time travel.” And so the lover is always taking away my own out-breath upon leaving. And I can control my muscles and make my heart go 185 beats per minute --> but I cannot make a text turn into life --> magic IS the imagination, we know it, we face it --> and I dream about you every night --> And if you think about the muscles and the bones in your face as you smile, you will be too anatomically aware to be really smiling, and your smile will be an act of musculature, the ghost tracing of your emotion. --> So examination of emotion is always an examination of its after-effects. O, thought itself is an apocalypse, which is just okay, as a broken, though adequate, way to navigate anyone’s life --> So every poem for the next 1000 years will be about that dream, and in every life after this life when we meet I will already be writing about you, but neither of us will know it, and as we fall in love and fuck and leave each other over and over I will dream both this dream somewhere deep and far away from remembrance and another dream above it, and reinforce the pattern, again and again. At the end of 1000 years I will be finished, no matter what we have become to each other --> and I will take a deep breath and open my metaphysical wings and dissolve into air and be done with dreams --> and if my air car has a cracked header by then, I will become All air car, or an economist. And, of course, Miguel de Unamuno wasn't always wrong.

Coughing Winter

You know, I don't drink,
So instead I have to feel.
I brought the poem a ball,
Coughed the winter out,
Balled the poem, effectively,
Ate sausage and pepper,
And remembered your shoes.
All of them were just so-so,
But I didn't think.
Watching the lauded poet
Listen to the grand famous poet
I'm glad I ride a bicycle,
Glad I know how to fight
With my hands and legs,
And how to use a machete.
Today's a dad's birthday:
My dad, mine twice as yours.
Keeping my head shaved
Keeps me closer to the word.
I'm faint everywhere but the bed.
I'm a DaVinci of it, you remember.
And DaVinci wrote upside-down and backwards
Because he Tried.
He tried a lot of tangled Light.
I took you on my subway.
You moved away from my _______.
I chose to be a frogman going into you,
And still you are the you of my poems,
Even as I try,
Backwards and upside-down.
I don't want any of the world's money
If it has to be that way--
Wait, which way do I mean?


You can watch me recite this poem here.