Thursday, April 27, 2006

Grief Above All

Like a punch in the chest. Over
And over agan. Here it comes now,
Here it comes later. B.O.H.I.C.A.
"Bend over here it comes." Above all
Here it comes.

Like the vietnam vet said:
It's not so much getting the worms
Out of the can. It's the getting
The worms back into the can
That's the hard part.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Matt Mays & El Torpedo

Wicked Come Winter

Travelin’ light when the wind is getting heavy
And the thoughts in my mind are growin’ weary
I got some money, got my mind
And I got some time
Travelin’ light when the wind is blowin’ heavy

Oh, it gets wicked here
Such an evil time of year
So cold it brings you tears
Come wintertime
I’ll come back for you my dear
When it gets wicked here
Come wintertime

I don’t think I wanna be fightin’ with you
on a long distance phone call from a highway hotel hall
Cuz I’m losing my money, I’m losin’ my mind
Just lost an hour of time
Well I don’t think I wanna be fightin’ with you

Oh, it gets wicked here
Such an evil time of year
So cold it brings you tears
Come wintertime
I’ll come back for you my dear
When it gets wicked here
Come wintertime

I lost my money, lost my mind, lost time
Travelin’ live when the snow is fallin’ heavy down

Wicked come winter
You know it takes a long, long time
To move across this land
The northern lights in the skies at night
The attention they demand
You know it takes a long, long time
To move across this land
The northern lights in the skies at night Makin’ music with my friends

Wicked come winter


David William Boyes, Sr. of Bedford died instantly on April 25, 2006, from injuries sustained in an auto accident. He was born in Providence, Rhode Island, a son of the late Alvin Walter Boyes and Esther King Boyes.

He was a graduate of La Salle Academy and Providence College both of Providence, Rhode Island. Dave was a lifetime Catholic, a communicant of Holy Name of Mary Catholic Church and a former member of the Knights of Columbus.

He first worked at Cranston Print Works as a color chemist then later he worked in research and development as a textile chemist for Owens-Corning Fiberglass Corp. Following that he worked as a chemist for Belding Corticelli of Bedford, later retiring from the former Piedmont Label (Smyth Company) where he worked as a color chemist and plant manager. He was a member of the American Association of Textile Colorists and Chemists.

Dave gave of his time to the community serving as a volunteer for the Maier Museum in Lynchburg, and the Smith Mountain Lake Visitors Center. He enjoyed golf with his friends at the Bedford Country Club. He was a member of the Virginia Golf Association as well as a member of the Smith Mountain Lake Singers.

Dave and his wife, Sandra, traveled extensively around the world and shared many memories of their adventures. His family, church and friends brought him pleasure but nothing pleased him more than being “Grandfather” to his eight beloved grandchildren.

Dave is survived by his wife of 46 years, Sandra Lee Rossi Boyes; five children, David William Boyes, Jr. and his wife, Theresa Duncan Boyes and their son, Eli William Boyes of Huddleston, Lee Boyes of Brooklyn, NY, Mark Richard Boyes and his wife, Tricia Montalbano Boyes and their children, Emily Caroline Boyes, Madeline Grace Boyes and William Mark Boyes of Houston, TX, Paul Joseph Boyes and his wife, Stefanie Lucus and their daughters, Penelope Helene Boyes and Olivia Kailyn Boyes of Vashon Island, WA, and Mary Boyes and her husband, Clay Blancett and their children, Henry Clay Boyes Blancett and May Lee Boyes Blancett of Richmond; his brother, Richard Alvin Boyes and his wife, Marcelle of Greenville, RI..

The family has requested that expressions of sympathy take the form of attendance at the Mass of the Resurrection in Dave’s memory to be held at 11 a.m. Friday at Holy Name of Mary Catholic Church with Father Stephen McNally officiating. A reception will follow in the church social hall where visitation is encouraged. Those wishing to offer gifts of food are encouraged to bring them to the church for the reception following the funeral mass. There will be no visitation at the family home.

For those wishing to make memorial contributions, please consider primarily, the Bedford Hospice House, c/o Bedford Community Health Foundation, P.O. Box 686, Bedford, VA 24523. Contributions may also be made to Holy Name of Mary Catholic Church, 1307 Oakwood St, Bedford, VA 24523, the Bedford Life Saving Crew, P.O. Box 171, Bedford, VA 24523 or the Bedford Volunteer Fire Department, 315 Bedford Ave., Bedford, VA 24523.

Tharp Funeral Home & Crematory, Bedford is handling arrangements. To send condolences online, please visit

Breathe Free And Strive. Forever,

Our dear Prince.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

There are not enough words,

To tell you the story. There are no words.

There are only the ones that are Taken.

Too soon. From Us.

BOYES, David William Sr.

David William Boyes, Sr., of Bedford, died Tuesday, April 25, 2006. Arrangements by Tharp Funeral Home & Crematory, Bedford, 586-3443.

Two Against Many.

Bailey Jointer #8

"Oh But Nobody Vants To Lissen To Hans Blix"

And Henry is afraid.

Monday, April 24, 2006

Have A Child, Asshole.

And complain to me about anything.
Re-iterate your plan for I-raq and emphasize
The role my son Henry might have
For the cause of our Freedom. Tell me

How my son might drive a truck down a road
And come back missing his left arm. His sparrow
Armature, grown ten years from now. This arm
I watched sprout like nothing to a wild weed.
That I had somehow managed to string
With knowledge, with muscle. Erased,
From his shoulder down, obliterated for Wolfowitz.
Obliterated for Rumsfeld. Obliterated forever
For an Idiot Ideology.

Explain to me, exactly, how this might set me free.
Come down here and tell me to my face.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Inhibited Orchestra

I’m a pork diner and a mistaken
Police beating. Thank god I caught
The regurgitation on tape
Or doom befalls the street scene
And her testicles of yellow lamp
Crimes. Your hands are bound
To the rail tickets and, look again,
Just bloody stumps backlit by sparks
Or gummy now investment stubs.
Remember to save your ticket ends
For the raffle, all proceeds go into
The vat and are mixed to be re-fed
To the diner guests and their
Parched identification cards, her mouth.

Friday, April 21, 2006

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Overripe Facilities

One in the sight inside this
side is insight to the front

frontier, the trace of face
in shelter from the source

in place of the subject, in
lines of order, orifice

in tunes, which switched
out of the regular vein in

needle and sweatpants
to whom all concerns

are expressed with one side
of vehemence, the other

made of organs and juice
under a tree and brains.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Rites Of Spring

For Tracey.

Look Upon Me

And feel the feedback in the pit of your stomach..
Feedback being the frayed edge of humanity,
That forgotten perfection of emo, of hardcore
The thing that separates you and me from today
And the radio.

At some point Guy Picciato’s mother
Worried about her son in the basement and the whole
Rites of Spring. I wish I could’ve been there to tell her
It’s okay, ma’am. Your son is making the best music
He can make, the best music in the world,
He will cause inspiration in most of us.
Eventually he will control the world around him
Because of his music.

There is the third track that I can’t remember
On that album where the guitar whistles after
Every time his voice breaks. Everything falls apart
And that is where this music becomes perfect.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Henry's Waspers On The Bench

Nausica called us on speakerphone.

Walking in the woods next to Lynchburg.

Her favorite because they're so sunny and bright.

Because the darkness makes her scared.

His sparrow musculature climbing into the bed

Of the truck, his skin-rubbed ribs straining

and his spine.

Monday, April 17, 2006

Look Upon Me,

I'll show you the life of the mind.

Do The Who's Then In Grant's Tomb Then?

& The Mutually Assured Destruction Project.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Oooh, John Murden, You're Gonna Get It.

You're all going to get it.

Nausica, Heal Thyself.

Everything removed reveals more sawdust.
I should be sweeping.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Long As I Got Legs To Stand On,

I Live My Life Beneath Her Waxing And Waning.

Darlin' companion, come on and give me understandin'.
And let me be your champion: a hand to hold your pretty hand in.
Darlin' companion, now you know you'll never be abandoned.
Love will always light our landin': I can depend on you.

Oh, a little saucy mare like you should have a steed.
Oh, a little bridlin' down from you is what I need.

Darlin' companion, now you know you'll never be abandoned.
Love will always light our landin': I can depend on you.

Instrumental break.

Darlin' companion, come on and give me understandin'.
As long as we keep laughin', bear in mind just what could happen.
Darlin' companion, I tell the mountains and the canyons,
Long as I got legs to stand on, I'm gonna stick by you.

Oh, a little saucy mare like you should have a steed.
Oh, a little bridlin' down from you is what I need.

Darlin' companion, I tell the mountains and the canyons,
Long as I got legs to stand on, I'm gonna stick by you.

Darlin' companion, I tell the mountains and the canyons,
Long as I got legs to stand on, I'm gonna stick by you.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006


One machine wheels measurements
And foots of sectioned stammering
While invertebrates are chosen with
Combustible digits. In clapboards over
Mud bogs, sweat distances come out
Even with machetes to glimmer
Some new treats. I’m one side with
Out your parallel design, another
Right beside the well you fell inside.

A similar wasp nests is growing
In my eves the more I remember
How you dove more than were pushed.
Now swamp ruts gout the path
I back and forth to check.

I'll Show You the Life Of the Mind:

It’s true, civilization frays at 1:49 am at the Walmart
In East Tennesee. The sheep are asleep, the potential
Revolutionaries are busy imploding, here, or on MTV.
With Oxycotins or Trucker-meth. Whatever. I am buying beer
And they have given up their dream of flunking out of
Community college and have already gotten tattoos.

There is no Revolution to come, and Lamb of God is wasting
Their time, because these little shits are too stupid.

This is the Creed generation. All ignorance and no
Working, Fucking, Muscle.

Blog as A Weapon.

Monday, April 10, 2006


Warning under extensions
These fillet trestles bulge morning eyes

Wide like bomb marks, wide like bombs
Going to go off, going to go

Self deception for a crown of tweezers
And heart of photo-paper printed hearts

No small inclusion, Wurst, the smell
Of inebriated guilt, the farm-water’s shame

In shells so delicate. So much little squadrons
Crating disease for immediate shipment

To the under-crescent waxing to tubes
And descent break-waters. Shed the delight

For pomposity, for crowds of open faces
Closing up in a slippery cellophane.

Barometer Two Point O

Not coda, or in essence leftovers,
Ever infringement to the pointed hand
And the “mystery Box” of the refrigerator’s
Archived entombments, not the music
Which bookends a decent mood or sleeping
Habit. But this: vomit tail.
A gruesome end of wagging
Grown into a whisper of swishy
Lung music, the ur-ur of spices
In a toothy room. Tooth-pot short and
Stoutly resolved to weigh down
The frame’s support structure, house
Ur-house inhabitable of decayed food
And rodent vestments, pray hymn A-phlegm.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Saturday, April 08, 2006

meet the poets

Shambling Towards Morriseys' Throat

Never Forget. The Nuclear Option.

Because Pink Is The New Black

Behold Angry Pink Smoothie

Because pink is the new black.

It swirls. It fucking grinds, man.

Good for muscles, good for poop!

Nausica Because She Is So Brave Nausica

Because she holds a remarkable power over Jean Luc Piccard.
Because, out of the team, she is Henry's most notable
Imaginary friend. Whom I sit on occasionally, accidentally,
On his futon on the floor. Before sleep, beneath
The windows in his room. When I am here, she

Haunts me as well. Because she got shot & Henry worries
Her wounds. With the bleeding baby Ohm pushing her into the acid
Lake, the most horrible part, he watches it over and over. Which
Always makes me weep, in the office beside him, no matter what.
We sing, together, whenever I am gone,

The joy of the wounded adventurer. Her freedom and her glider;

She, Above, Elevated.

Eternal. Nausica of the Valley of the Winds.

Reduction Oblivion

Ps-The Phlegm I Cough Constitutes Post Supper

Blancett Carpentry

To: Sean Kinney
Re: Payment overdue for services rendered

Dear Sean,

This letter is in regards to the outstanding payment of $688.00 I am owed for the restoration of your porch. The original bill for $888.00, submitted Monday, November 28th 2005 has as of today Saturday, April 8th 2006 yet to be fulfilled. I was given $200.00 in cash on November 28, which accounts for the deduction. However, having spent $85.00 of money out of pocket for this project, I have been compensated $115.00 for the three weeks (from Nov. 10 to Nov 28) that I spent repairing your porch.

I again apologize for not having given you an accurate estimate for the cost of the overall project. Being already involved in a large restoration project, I did not take the proper time to adequately investigate either the cost or the materials involved. This is my fault and I am sorry for potentially blindsiding you with the final cost. However, the materials that were purchased (that were neither marked up, or bought by me- as an attempt to lower the cost for you) were of varying dimensions. They were different not only from the original flooring, but from each other as well. This necessitated different approaches to the installation of each set of boards, so that you would not have large gaps from one board to the next in your porch floor. I will not in this letter go into detail the significant structural repairs I executed, per your authority, as we progressed in repairs. However, in another attempt to reduce cost, I allowed you to assist me with every aspect of the project, at a potential risk of your getting hurt or compromising the quality of the work. I also cleaned up the work site, hauled the waste to the landfill, paid for it myself, and did not charge you for it. I also did a thorough examination of the Dowdy House on West Main Street, determining what repairs & restoration would be needed, and made a fairly accurate estimate on the labor, so that you could prepare a bid for its purchase. I also did this free of charge, as an act of good will, to compensate the under-estimation on the cost of repairing your porch.

As you are probably aware, we are in the process of selling our home. I was of a mind to let this matter go until today, when I got out my shoulder plane to work on a pair of sawhorses I am building. It is a specialty hand tool and cost two hundred and fifty dollars. I use it frequently with this work, treat it well and intend to give it to my son, maybe some thirty years from now. It has streaks of oil based paint both from the material I installed on your porch, and prints from my hands the day I installed it. As you probably know, oil based paint lasts a long time. I would rather not be reminded of Sean Kinney and the six hundred and eighty eight dollars he owes me, many years from now.

Please send a check for the remaining $688.00 as soon as possible to our address above. Otherwise, we will have to pass this matter on to our attorney.

Thank you,

Clay Blancett

Friday, April 07, 2006

We Don't Need Another Gyro

24 Twenty Four Hours Ago

The pills were meant to dig my eyes out with.
Prescribed with enormous hoopla,
Fanfare of the enrichments near a grave stone,
Trumpets and the like. The best
Part of the half I ate was a city street,
The way the other half left town
Before something really withheld percolated.
A creased note under the door,
Some light far off broken by feet
And this mortuary movie is over. Rendered
Part good time part granted insurrection,
Time released sanctions to a burn memory,
And the plan of our secret sleep confused
Into a popped vacuum tube’s cool filament.

Concession’s Morbid Record Collection

Enormous loopy shelving!
To witness strikes down generations
Of mitochondrial connectors,

May the children be born to future faces
And enormous cataloguing digits.

Alone, I’m stunned but comment
A face like pork
Piled into vats,

And revolving through tubs
And needles like concrete breakers
Affixed to back-hoes,

Wicky-wicky mental trap
I give in to the tracks he wax.

I see gruesome headboards
Profiled sarcophagi and commitment
Grated into delectable toppings.

Milk crate it and send it
To the infants museum.

Our Boots WIll Have a Meeting

Our Boots Will Take Control

Bright epistolary fog obscuring all our cars
Makes me nervous. What if we didn’t really

Own them? Make my Pope a car maker.
Manufacture my bruises of consciousness

From television spots. I’m so resistant
To clean speech. It fades like
On a cold day: retreat into cavity.

I’m incessant as well, calibrating.
Walk, walk. It’s not absurd if your
Look, the bombs are falling on us too.
Wave to the pilot, he’s got a family
To think about.

If I sign up, I’ll be a proud truncheon
You watch. Now, be this color,
Airplane metal on skin reflected.

Darling? Have you seen the car?
It looks like an army stumbling
From the obscure.

Bedtime For Democracy

I'll Show You The Life Of The Mind.

This isn't the Tennessee I left behind,
This is everywhere else. Welcome to Assholeland.
Welcome to Jersey in the Tennessee Valley.
Except they pretend to like you here.

Oh, and drive worse.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Hickory Shaped Environmentalist

Spending all my time in with the walrus
Is forcing me to grow a second brain
In a vat I’ve affixed to my shoulder like
In the man-with-two-heads movie.
I like the tusks and the handlebars,
But the cost and weight and extra effort
To ruminate and answer questions
Is growing on me. Maybe a second
Set of arms or a new bank account would
Improve my life span. Maybe aquatics
Just isn’t for me. Conversely tusk
Expenditure is down and I’m making
New people look at me everywhere I go.
I like being a set of marbles. The tumors
Are heavy and pointy, but worth the expense.

Goddamn Josie Fucking Wales

Would be against you.

(Klaxon Sounding) Park & Harrison

The brains of frat boys taste like republicans.
The frat boys are killing us, out back of the frat house.
Dragged out, beaten to death in the alley. The rednecks.
The Rednecks are driving monstertrucks, they're watching The Vols
With the Fratboys, are using the gas of the Republicans. $2.39/gallon.

The Assholes let the Assholes on the Planes. The Assholes
Want to take my three year old son (my fucking son)
And search him, before he gets on the Plane. The Planes
Hit the Buildings. The Planes hit the fucking Buildings.

And so We go to Iraq.

The Assholes are beheading the film-makers. The Assholes
Are threatening the film-makers. The Fratboys, no, sorry
The Rednecks are threatening me with the Ribbons on the
Monstertrucks. The Republicans are threatening me on the TV.
The Fratboys, where are the Fratboys? All I see are Rednecks.
The Fratboys are making Money with the Republicans somewhere.
Selling this Shit to the Rednecks. The Assholes with the turbans
Meanwhile are killing the Artists for mocking the Prophet.

So then,

Fuck All Ya'll and yer Prophets, Shitbags. You missed me
In New York. You've missed me all my life.
Right Now I'm in By-God Tennessee.
So come on Fuckers, and get me now,
Before I get it together and come your way
On a Pale Horse

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Que Habla Meep? (Klaxon Sounding)

Out of the shadows, out of the mind,
The garbage trucks came to be cleaned,
The Candy man can, trembling on the vine,
Make them gleam. Meep meep.

The Worldview What is Made

Crumbling Worldview

I’m precarious in the haze from
The memory of the world’s trading
For bones, fresh baby jingles
Like key chains or charm bracelets.

I’m edgy like a doom in the aircraft
They’re made with. Sludgy like
A slick of jet fuel in the swamp

My every-swamp a sarcophagus
Bemolded; put together before
The concrete hardens, before
The daylight strikes a clear

Path through the thinking
Lobes and the boardroom woodens
With scattering officials.

This Blog Remembers

Collapsed remainder nameless jersey firefighters
On the bullshit co-opted cruiser to Weehawken.
The long walk home through the Hoboken smoke. Six weeks
With with an infant, in Jersey City, through that smoke.
Six months in that smoke.

You right wingers have done everything wrong.
You will pay. My God if I have a will
You will pay.

Do the Obliteration

Because buildings disappear beneath your feet,
Crumpled up like forgotten cigarettes, the guy
That made it to the Windows On The World, he recalled
The shoes left on the balconey by the jumpers.
Like Moses: take off your shoes, asshole
for you are nothing here.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Never Mind The Wolfcocks, Here's The Obliteration Rock.

Garbage Brain

In high maneuvers and quality handshakes
Permanent disfigurement

Looms a quilt of harmful ambition
For me. Consider this, what toes

Are on the march, what shadowy
Manuscripts are recycling even now

In my brain, pours and consumed to
Accepting even your bullshit as fodder.

Agent: Does the traffic give way for the garbage collector?

Agency: Only when the vultures tear up
Their bras and recruitment cards.

Heros consider this: I can squeeze you in
But the blood will clog the happy-happy cable lines.

Q: Are We Not Men?

Do the Obliteration Rock

Monday, April 03, 2006

Dispatch From the Resistance

Agent: Do you give the leftovers to the pot bellied pig?

Agency: Only when the bluebells are in fashion.

Unison: When the casket creaks, we can ask the tremblers back to dinner.

In The Shower, We Dream About Zombies

Chews Pink In This Kitchen

Gums ahoy.

Gary Hall Jr. Is A Barbasol Real Man

Sunday, April 02, 2006

Obliterate With Lisa Thi

Because it falls to her, because she remembers.

Discard the Defunct

Abduction Cnduction

Not physics unearthed these bones
Deep in the concrete gloom;
Not genius, but failure haunts
These ephemera, kudzu
Banking the information circuits.
The people mover gains a contour
On the momentum of city, hands
Are severed trying to hold on.
The inadmissible limit? There is no
City. One easement is a higher
Edged concrete. Twin coaxials
To the remote-control god:
We make it all up, going around
In circles, asking for directions.

You Had To Bring Up Chickamauga

Pops in the park, under the tower, age nine. Running under monuments. Running under Beethoven. Running through woods and grass worn to mud. Uncle Dave on our quilt drinking wine. Mother and Father and bicycles and cheese. There are no words left to describe that Georgia anymore. It's unrecognizable, gone like a k-mart kite out of string. Hung in the high pines under the blue sky over Chickamauga.

Snodgrass Hill, Chickamauga Georgia

The Hang Fire Regurgitate Forever Blog
Is coming to take you away, take you away.
Obliterate forever, with raisins, and hope
You make it out, unscathed, with raisins in hand, fucker.
Second guess my punkrock and you pass go,
Are aflicted to collect german beer at Walmart
In Tennessee come the sinnin’ hour, see how you like that.
Cause the redneck swings his Chrysler into the handicap spot,
Steps out swaggering, sleeveless T over carby arms,
Ubiquitous barb-wire ink over ignorant shoulders,
What passes for muscle, what passes for tough guy here.
You wanna take a poke? Swing for the trachea.
Cripple the son of a bitch and take his air.
Shrink wrap your monogram and hide it
From Dick Cheney. Not the Dick Cheney in hiding from
Dick Cheney in camouflage. Rather the Dick Cheney from
The Ducks of Go-Fuck-Yourself. Quack quack.
Suck the Buckshot Blowjob Justice Scolia.

Pray for Lisa Thi, my brethren, pray to see
Her dance of the seven veils, wherenst she reveals
Her True self, Terrifying and Magnificent
Above Ye. And then bring her the heads of Seven Baptist Preachers,
Or their rebellious Rebel sons. Gather them from
A Confederate Reenactment and you get double points,
Bring her the head of one David Randall Blythe,
And the game is finished. Metal to metal.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

There's the Dumpster

Inquisitive timeshare hiding
women in burlap
as presents to fashion:

decorum’s wish

I fight eternity through
for a second bowl of chowder.

Delinquent powder
in the vents

white castigations of mealtime
in the Hepa-filter’s

vinegary wish list.

Obliterate With Dennis