tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:/posts escribblings 2019-06-17T18:05:02Z tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1421170 2019-06-17T18:03:21Z 2019-06-17T18:05:02Z back from the void
we enjoy a purple embrace
sun falls into hoboken
exploding silently
slow oranges
rippling against the hudson
an endless breathing dance
of fire peach and navy
fills our head kiss
summer eyes.
the olive pit you toss in the water
is the sand pattern slipping
through your fingers.
it sinks to
the seafloor
one dark seed under the hudson
joins ten million other human sins.
hellish fractal infinities
once danced on your palm in
these specks of sea-dust
blown from a distant star.
I will take you to
the purple planet
whose ocean island
laps at the banks of
your dream beach
where every grain of sand
was born between your hourglass fingers
and lychees dangle 
from the low grove.
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1417095 2019-06-06T12:09:43Z 2019-06-06T12:09:43Z hallucination she texts furiously
curl to the tip of her nose
face in profile
brown straight hair
black romper
seated on a hotel
lobby bench
rolly bag with the handle up
cardigan draped 
around the top
rings, long manicure
she looks
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1416713 2019-06-05T13:21:54Z 2019-06-05T13:21:54Z perl H buck (as in jesus H. christ)
straight off a false awakening
in my childhood bedroom
trying to get the lights on
the lights won't go on
flipping switch
want the lights on.

I am in the drop.
the drop happens after
a sinewy Kubrick sequence.
watching the Kubrick sequence
with Perl
one of two women
the other climbs in
nice when it was just perle

it is a person putting on a glove
while sinewy violins almost
nearly unbearable screech
proud: I know who this is
this is Kubrick

when the scene ends
the bottom falls out
until the moment
the ego rea
(is realized)

"oh, I do still exist"

pieces start to
a self, a scene
I don't know is Perl still here?
still feel her presence
in the backseat of a taxi
needle and thread
still stitching that glove finger as
silk tailored
pale pink gloss
slips on as
about to "the electric chair"
a criminal
the bottom falls out
the b





awake full mast sails          needing to write
plump with darkness.        dreading the void.

tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1416365 2019-06-04T15:27:20Z 2019-06-04T15:27:20Z denver Denver is haunted there,
thin air thick with spirits
blink of sleep joins
you the dead fiesta,
these horny ghosts
pass one another in 
useless wispy rapture
in the airport
scampering amid
redeye flier's dreams
passed out back hall
splotchy carpet
under the wild red gaze
of the throbbing blue stallion,
or frozen in the crosswalks
of Aurora they appear
in the weary driver's 
blink of sleep:
a mother and child
stepping out in the street.

Denver is haunted there
ghosts eddying in the
alpine mist.
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1416006 2019-06-03T15:07:30Z 2019-06-04T15:23:30Z poems when i was twenty nine
i learned i could go out at night
and bring home poems
instead of women:
at the street corner
where giggling groups pass,
in the residue between
the bricks,
taxi wheels as
grind to a halt,
weird fizz you can't get 
bottom of a strong porter
stuck to the side,
slouched over a bar
head thump
bench seat
feet hang off the curb
strong porter
when i was twenty nine

and bring home poems
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1414541 2019-05-29T22:03:57Z 2019-06-05T13:36:52Z El Cortez walking around this weird neighborhood
is it dawn or twilight
the hours don’t match up
an orb in the sky could be
a pin prick sun
or just a globe streetlamp
all blueish black above 
a crackle of orange through
the mist on the horizon.

the bulwark of your mechanics 
hedge-pledge comes 
tumbling out of your uber driver's knife carrot harem pocket, 
the old fancy way. 

tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1413769 2019-05-27T18:41:18Z 2019-05-27T18:42:45Z across the thames

“You want to eat you go to Chicken Cottage”

The man outside barks. It’s cash only, and an attempt is made to beg Brits for a couple pounds.

Luckily there's another, quieter Chicken Cottage, with nobody in it, and this one accepts cards. The fries taste like old grease. The nuggets are the nuggest - held delicately between thumb and fore. 

“Let’s find somewhere we can sit outside and eat this.”

The park entrance is at the dead end of a lane in South London. 

Tip the water bottle for a swig, pinky stuck in the air.

“We’re in London.”

A smile.

“Can I put my arm around you?”

The flat smells like moth balls. The second thing is the furniture - tasteful and warm. A large window covered by thick venetian slats. Beside it, the olive green chair: a curved danish number, elegant in its size, and with four polished wooden legs in a splay. It is overhung by a two-orb cantilever lamp in rosy metallic.

The ceiling fixture is an open ended cylinder: aurburn in extérieur, reflective copper within. A single Edison bulb within emits a scientific orange glow.

Four eyes examine the dresser - rich wood bisected artistically by veins of inlayed brass, whose thoughtful arrangement is uninterrupted by the breaks between drawers. 

The bedspread is a warm white decorated lightly by black embroidery - a band of lace forming a square that speaks of nuzzley sweet interiority. 

Two cross-legged people face one another. 

“What would that look like?”

A smile.

“That would be nice.”

A morning glance between the venetians affords vistas of lush spring foliage and a futuristic peek of London’s iconic “Shard” as cobalt surrenders to dayblue.

tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1402097 2019-04-26T03:05:14Z 2019-04-26T16:52:09Z I Love Mi Mi is a woman in my dream.
she has a rainbow
a small nose
and an electric smile.

I meet Mi
through a mutual friend
    who is also cute
but Mi glows

she’s talking to a woman
with green eyes
behind the bar.

this café is so

the green eyed woman,
olive skinned,
dark gold curls
pulled back,
looks at me.

she tells Mi
“he is cute.”
and they giggle.

when Mi comes back
to my side of the bar
it is to speak to
another guy
who also likes Mi:
everyone likes Mi.

Mi has a rainbow face
a small nose
and an electric smile.

the other guy
starts to ask Mi
“do you want to leave together?”
I catch her eyes
as he asks
and interject.

“Mi, how about, if
instead of that,
we go hang out.”

she says ok,
meet at her place.

the other guy is mad
in fact he curses Mi
he calls her
“a woman who
meets men at bars.”

I tell him not to talk
that way about Mi
and show
him my sword:
long and sharp,
it remains in its black sheath.

he quickly draws his
serrated blade
pressing it
into my flesh.

I will not do battle.
I take the pain,
blood dripping

I set out to find Mi.

on the muddy path
to her house
there is a pyramid.
I stop
realizing what great
works I must build.

when I finally arrive
it is on horseback
Mi is behind
the desk in my
grandfather’s study.

I open my shirt to 
show her
the wound.

Mi stands.
she is bouyant
she greets me 
with kaleidoscope sweetness,
a megawatt grin.
exactly the way
I want her.

a friend says
“you need to
find someone who
    is a nurse
someone who will 
‘oh my god, what
when they see the blood.”

that was
the last time I saw Mi:
standing behind 
the desk
rainbow faced,
small nosed,
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1400482 2019-04-21T21:15:53Z 2019-06-04T13:46:44Z Ausphur under
shaded sunny dapple
outskirt eco-home
wife is accomplished
brown locks
she stands magnificent
next to the blood orange tree
we planted
a baby
and named him Ausphur
after his father’s mad
and momma’s 
good luck.

when Fiona’s
big twinkle meets my ogle 
it is to ask
“do you think this is bad?”
gesturing to a
patch of discoloration
on the shrubby 
citrus trunk.

kitchen fixtures 
achieve an earthy stainless appeal
interior featured in “Home”
published in house
on our
maxMac 2i
ethnic decor
punctuating rich hardwood walls:
masks and fabrics are portals
to times we roamed
ourselves weary
finally we can
into the danish
needle on a vinyl electro-chill
ripe avocado
heirloom tomatoes
a piece of sustainable trout
home filling with
warm light + auto-chef aroma
our purple sky front vista
navies down to night.

Ausphur is building
unbuilding and
rebuilding his legos in the guest yurt
saving his screen time
for 8pm
his friends will log on
and Fiona and I will
hold hands
lock eyes
across the
reclaim cherry


Fiona fills her diaphragm,
corner smiling at
my helpless love-look
she tries to start
desperate eyes
that half smile,
my pause palm
moves to her clavicle
“It’s ok Fiona, I know.”
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1393413 2019-04-03T20:15:31Z 2019-04-03T20:15:31Z i long for america for strange bi-ways
birds nesting in an old cracked
flourescent sign
diners open late
diners open early
career ending portions
gravy flooded eggy biscuits

i long for
hours to our one downloaded playlist
german shepherd hanging out the window
of a passing truck
must be going one hundred

motels we almost don’t want to sleep in
the best sleep as morning splits the venetians 
tents on a desert campsite

magenta flame lit dusky mountain
rancid odors in an odd alley

turning the corner to glimmrin’ metropolis
turning the corner
seeing endless blue shimmer
endless grey rumble

a cigarette by the wind whipped corn tops
hot muggy take your shirt off
buggy skeeters 

snow blown cottages 
from a long time ago
candle in every window

your creaky dawn-voice
“can we sleep for another hour?”

dew on the car outside.
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1388067 2019-03-20T20:51:00Z 2019-03-21T18:57:42Z Down the Middle - YC W19 Demo Day Poem
a.k.a "it's the juggernaut batch"
03.17.19 - pier 48 loading dock
San Francisco, CA

		and shmoozers
	throw hopes
				in the din
	murmurs bounce off
				warehouse walls

long 		gone	are
	the comforts of mountainview
		the carpeted floors of
the computer history museum
		here the ground is parking lot
			yellow badge founders swimming like
	sharks ready to bite any 
			dazed distance-staring alum
			thick black curtains stretch to the roof pick a side
		two hundred is too many companies to not divide
	what once was YCombined now is YSplit
and that’s also a new card type: virtual debit.
it’s the juggernaut [redacted] like Freddie Merc’s Indian roots
life’s worse when you can’t get crazy rich south asian news.
ice rain from the heavens - not Kevin, this hail
weather check insures sleet wrecks should your coverage fail.
but there’s no insurance when a hire is a blight
burn the bull off resumes with a white hot searchlight.
a generous lover, I don’t quite go greek -
a cutie in thick rims, though? yes, I’ll eatgeek.
pronto is LATAM’s firey Uber with half-a-million rides;
investors - ¡ven rapidamente! make strides!
allure puts garment mocks on models of each size and type
I know from Teespring that’s a cash cow: right swipe.
Vivian of friendshop’s pink coralogo tee pops
to get better deals and go viral bring crew when you cop.
keep your error prone analytics code deploys on lock
they call themselves avo but will they make guac?
small business purchase is great but if that’s where it ends
wonder could we have shared more words… with friends?
union apartment making $300k MRR rentals look easy
with swag on the stage in printed black sweat suits and Yeezy’s.
alpaca is API Robinhood - darning their stocks in the night
when there’s nobody there… 
cute birdy mascot makes me wanna nuzzle and nestle
that’s as close to the truth as I can get with trestle.
a founder forgets his lines but it cause of a chronic habit?
every month shipping $2MM in dank green is nabis.
‘fraud is a way of life’ it’s both true and sad
truora works to make the outcomes a little less bad.
	egg    hatch				egg
					egg			egg

come on poet. Focus! like Lincoln reading by candle
you’ll never find love if you keep losing your handle.
so here’s co-founder Joe out of Gordian - for any of you in denial,
their booking-soft underlies travel sites. I’ll take the aisle.
tuck-shirt young-dicaprio brooklyn-swag-walk
promises board are ‘biggest baddest cash buyers on the block.’ !
and finally tech to bring grub straight to your habitat
got spice like Kim Chi B, where’s my cabbage at?

in the break-space a couple burritos go down
thank you
 thank you for the food
	let it not put me to sleep

keep your baby safe
keey pour baby 
        baby safe
keep you or baby	
	 your baby 

shiok meats will shock with lab grown cell based shrimps
in a $25 Billion prawn market this game ain’t for wimps.
a friend from my Robotics class at Brown - Francois
memfault just seems like a thing that’s a thing, firmware flaws.
the German’s are coming! let’s head for the hill
but no concrete can protect us like bunkerBox will
poppy corn 2.0 is the new snack from Taali
my mom likes the texture but says after taste is the folly
did you know of a rare Kid’s Alzheimers called “Batten”?
if we can circumvent that then we should make it happen.
Xgenomes come up in green sequencing genes
the cof beams - most confident sidekick I’ve seen.
quantum computing may boggle you
not if you are the people who started AuroraQ.
portal entryways for those who need help, opens doors
with an app, with a tap, on a condo, or store.
the amount we know about our own DNA is pathetic
but why can’t we just be smarter? it’s probably genetic.
exhuming another industry from paleolithic tar pits
ai insurance machines learn on average how dinged your car gets.

and… a measly alarm sounds above
half hearted voice meeting side to side glances:
“everyone exit in an orderly fashion”

back for geopredict in some nerdy looking high-waist pants
but bold with open door for oil and gas.
brainkey for automated 3D brain diagnostics
but where’s heartkey to unlock and pop faces in lockets?
I need help. Empirically, what is true love made of?
from Loveless in Oakland, addressed to askdata.
inito goes where no man’s not hesitant
the only app in the app store that gets your pregnant.
		fading fast	droopy eyes
	six thousand dollar darth vader machine
			we 	try to ignore that p’s are q’s backwards
pocket buzz (someone wants to message me)	we can’t ignore
		that Stanford Graduate
			   	that slight bulge in the
we can’t ignore
			we the people	RAISE JAZZ HANDS
	in support of
			our steam-faced TECH BRETHREN
	 a white tech borther on a mission
on mission
		on a
					GEROSTATE ALPHA 	sleepy
	eyes shut eyes open
		my flapping gasp

“frozen at forty” when anti age drugs are
		ten years out
stem cellies
		or Jon deere for indoor farming - we could just
making bootleg nebullam merch now for the country demo
	and be
		weird plant wall thing
		a robotic “type” system
7 year slog - three year return, bearded founder CLAYTON MOONEY
	of Iowa
		he was forty seven years old

high functioning. fucktioning
		little/big chubby baby face pacifier cute
munchkin stubby toe’d munchkin little
	gimp hat - pumpky
nah, that’s cute that’s cute
			that’s cool, we’ll stay

green energy exchange im a fading tree in heavy winter
eyes sag body head keels over thursday
trying to get linked in
im so asleep I might be like: 
		the next generation of
fully licensed paper org with
	fifteen hundred on my waiting list
with bloody feet and mud smeared body
we try to be ravens and angle into water war
		a greener america
how a classroom “should look” according to TailorEd is with

	one kid passed out on their desk

feel I’m a swampy dander gazing stage for the wrong thing
crazy trainwreck brain lines take me back haighschool.
no they are presenting
blueberry medical is presenting.
how asleep am I? very. slipping off. coming away undone
	almost not existing
it’s the burritos, it’s the burritos they all complain in unison
this is the blueberrthing trying to go big
	smash the eBorder
the old square in Scotland
		where I was rug shopping in 2009

back from a break, two cookies and a decaf, switch stages 
I peek backstage two
	founders in “loonify” shirts

the fact that loonify will balloon-launch small satellites
will surely leave flat earth proponents feeling justified.
as I could use a pachama so sleepy, and dream
of a truly effectual carbon offset scheme.
from your union apartment you may get a degree, true
but college doesn’t teach anything useful: you’ll need a careertu.
a ‘we’re the next amazon’ claim comes off cocky
still at scale there’s a market for bottomless coffee.
mythical basilisk, st. peter’s basilica, vatican, rome
leave 99.9% of your NN training data at home.
54gene is a new African gene database
unlike 23andme, it expands across race.
evo bots find the flaws in titles for playstation -
they’ll replace every human game tester with automation.
man’s torso, moreso, horse, though.
techquestrians from centaur labs arrow and bow.
next time the colon doc needs a peep up your soft spot
make sure they don’t miss any polyps - use docbot.
kalshi healthy gambling where the house doesn’t always win
and it’s legal beyond the walls of the city of sin.
don’t be a poor sport - install a new doorport
and next time you’re in Santa Monica play some board sports.
long long ago, in a galaxy Verizon hopes never exists: Volk Fi
a distributed celluar system with no data plan, amazing.
lumos says 5% of all goog searches med-related
so let there be light just for doctors created.
cheaper, better employee benefits - that won’t flop
plus a dash of “god damn” is the cherry on top.
Mei instapath not be confused with the carrot cart
something full automated, up it starts.
brings releaf to inefficient African assembly lines
kind of like how brother Sam U. pumps out the rhymes.
and synova gets two ex the stem cells from FAT.
… … beliiiiieeve that!
atomic alchemy generates nuclear medicines
wondering what sort of mushroom cloud my head is in?
if world leaders had good intel, peace would have a chance
let’s paint our world in data and zip up Trump’s pants.
	for real though, donate now: ourworldindata.org/donate
hi		i am Rob
	we remove CO2 from the air and turn it
			into gasoline. 	!

prometheus #nuffsaid

a break later my man Ruben from career karma in dope clothes
tackles job market woes and makes cash as it grows.
on my first time with PG: chat laps around Pioneer
he said “this tiny seed turns to sapling to sequoia giant o’er the years.”
we took a break right at 4:20 but I was too sick to hit Hua’s Reefer
but at least I made it back in time for the pitch from keeper.
cable TV is dying according to closer sports
it may go the way of the cathode ray, but still the logo needs work.

a perpetual taking and reliquishing of stage
a clamor of JAZZ HANDS
a “how loud should we clap for this”
a feeling of “AND NOW, THIS”
unending cycle of 3 minute distillations of 
3 months, the outset of 7 year journeys
and now, this.

trade loans with 100% collateral wouldn’t be wise
now Indian firms have a new option in Seawise. 
how often we find ourselves, mid-day, middesk
and yet rarely do we carry out biz-background checks.
	the poem.. must. go
in fact. 	I’m switching
		I’m going into: datamode
	beeeeezoop bee bop 	biddle widdle wit
beezoop bee bop 
		bit beeeeooowwwm
			beezoop bee bop beep beep 
	biddle widdle wit
		beezoop bee bop bit beeowowowowowow
now im stegged out HU HUH
steady datamode
			stegasaurus REX mother fucker 

data mode. all facts. never fictional
an improvement on old ass EDI’s like convictional.
I sleep in my mom’s basement - but only tell my closest friends
on a new social media app… we know how this ends.
encarte is a one stop checkout across pages
a passport to 30k smaller ecomm destinations.
it will be a supernova. a brilliant light!
takes design mocks and spins them into code that’s… alright.
	oof… I’m winded. yikes yikes
		a sail torn
oh ok shit here I am. 
	it’s um it’s called 	
a company that does things
		don’t let students waste money
	this is draining, time remaining?
could someone put a clock up?
		docbot, out your butt
	but then up, becomes dockup
or then there’s pershop it’s the perfect bazaar
that shows just what you like and knows what size you are.
or for gaming enemy on board brings togeth mafia and LOL
so a made to watch MOBA that’s perfect for trolls.
taobotics’ bots bring the coke aisle to YOU
an automate selfie opp and sales improved.
what’s next. JAZZ
		this is windsor
			the brain grows thin
how many companies? K-Complexes? Sleep-spindles?
	I’m inside out I’m inside out I’m inside In.
cargo crate hovership boundary layer
	hydrofoil fast as the air freight quarter the cost
mew mew
blub blub blub 		and  		WOW
what is this? something for me? as a Lactose intolerant?
eclipse has micelle milk magic - for vegans and asians

at heart we build it - 19 person electric planes
my water based heart wrestles an electric brain.
don’t forget the underscore when you _rebank
better bank helps companies send money.
	a man with the voice of a podcast producer
explains preflight can help you test code before users	
			J			ZZ
a tooth in the
	best wind farm in the lands buy and build sell for 4x
trying my best traversing this wild vortex
	JAZZ hands but let’s be honest the problem is jizz
and the solve is uncomfy until your choice gives
	 	a new man-pill an option will can condone
when I rush to go buy them I won’t be alone
	the prospect alone gives old dogs
		 new bones
and lest forget schoolable helping with 
private school access in poorer nations…
odd reiki 					HANDS
o	ff			record

“hey um, I think your bathroom needs more toilet paper
	and… more possibilities.”

toodles til
d nxt batch

tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1382721 2019-03-07T18:11:39Z 2019-03-07T18:11:39Z You! Do you think you can discourage the hungry mouse from coming down here?
Do you really think you can charm the apples off a tree,
the seeds out of an apple,
the ivory cream out of a glass of milk?

Soy milk is the only guiltless indulgence.
Unlike milk milk it doesn’t come from a bulging utter.
Unlike almond milk it doesn’t enslave bees.
Soy beans are a mainstay of the American Soy/Corn Agricultural Complex.
They even put nitrogen back into the dirt where they grow.
It doesn’t have a lot of protein though.
Some people say it turns you into a girl.

Do you think you can really, really ask out a high school girl to dance?
I mean back in time of course, of course I mean
really, really go to the prom -
not just with some rando.

Here I am, guiltless, post-soy-milk,
but I had an almond croissant actually.
Dante has one circle of hell for
or in the words of Mr. Roboto
“Bezelbub has a devil set aside for me.”
or was it - “どうもありがとう.”

Heaven’s splendor == milk mixed with Splenda.
Chariot swings Sweet-n-low.
I’m not saying that God’s sugar is fake;
I’m saying he needs to use more of it.
Some butter wouldn’t hurt - it’s Ash Wednesday.
A little charred edge is a sign of a good toast.

Was about to drop a crumb for the mouse:
he scampers silently along the wall crease,
disturbing quiet blur,
almost imagined.
What is he rooting around for these
New York Mice,
bigger than a mouse should be.
How big a mouse should be?
No need to crumb encourage him here.

Do you really think?
A mouse gets less hungry by eating?
I have seen a dog scarffle up its own vomit - is this getting dicey?
Oh no! Oh god sorry I 

I wanted to end things off on a good note
but nicey doesn’t play that game
no he

third person positive 
no he.

No he doesn’t does he. No he does, he
or worth anything

mark my words:

“I’ll reassemble your stinking heap of a conglomerate.”
“I'll stow your cabin bag.”
“I’ll fish you.”
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1381890 2019-03-05T21:06:01Z 2019-03-05T21:06:01Z mango morning i was so sleepy
the dreams were good
a little kid
determined friend 
crying next to his scooter

graffiti on brick 
graffiti on brick
last train from Nostrand is an airborn A C
uptown adventure
we landed on pigs
their snouts all tickled me

i was so sleepy
cutting the mango kept thinking:
eat this mango like a heathen
but floss after

(instead of my morning banana)
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1379523 2019-02-28T06:25:10Z 2019-03-04T00:42:34Z I Shadow
	Who learned a lesson called “I love you” as 
a kid?
		Momma did, Momma said she did
			Love me-you I mean.
	Momma loved the American Baby, she gave that little 
squeaking lump its first smear of eye shadow

Baby learned how to say “I love you”
	Baby learned how to look in the mirror
		Baby learned how to say “I love you” to the mirror
apply eye shadow and now say back - “I love you more.” 

Baby grew up. strut down beauty boulevard in gleamy plats
		glanced in mirror store window - “Baby, I love you.”
mirror grew up too. all new gadgetry. mirror
		slaps eye shadow on Baby with a magic tap
	mirror turns Baby into a damn sexy puppy
			a.n.d. shows off to all Baby’s friends. 

teeth bared. I HAVE TO MOVE. I HATE LIVING HERE eyes tense wide open. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO MAKE EVERYTHING SO DIFFICULT cheek trickle shimmers gold and black flecks.
there’s gold in that river - there’s enough deep teal sprinkle shine lime lit blinding buckshot scatter glitter to cram every crack in the side walk there’s enough gold in that river to smear on the souls we come home to, too but what alchemy makes two “I love You”’s into “I love I” and “You love You”
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1378144 2019-02-25T03:18:35Z 2019-02-25T03:18:35Z sum night viper Some night viper’s chewing on his plum whisker,
rummaging in his candy satchel, 
the pants are enormous:
swift thwump of redumption.

New biosphere: this one teaming with green life.
We merched to the bank of extinction
where jammed, a new mammoth (mastodon)
rose to the tusk of DNA planter.

As I sort through my lust, mental clutter at dusk
it occurs you were right all along.
Meanwhile, I was left at expense to tap desk
with a pen whose blue ink had been drawn.
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1369029 2019-01-31T21:55:04Z 2019-01-31T21:55:05Z Waking Poem 2 what a ride
what a ride
endless dream after dreams.
dream becoming another dream
dream that never ends
halls stair wells and little doors of your imagination 
you chase the witch
she is down there she is down there

focusing on sensation proves the surest path to pleasure
pleasure is intense and realistic
in a dormitory

a blob of ink that hits the page and shatters
into one hundred colorful consciousnesses
some wobble and wane as others burst forth
the name of the game is

you are more than one
you are not alone
within you without
and within you become

oh my
oh my

these friends joined the beds with me

and were alarmed at my unending slumber
careening to the valleys of dream
at times beautiful in others
the terror was so much as to jolt me from sleep
the clamor
the building sensation of fear as suddenly im shot shot
again im shot in my own driveway
for not having any cannabis
im brought down


intense and delightful
spears and swords
mirrors on walls
who are we and where

the big house
explore my new environs
nyc out on the street
finding myself in a new scene
its newly realistic - #repainted
look what they did with the place
the magical hall ways are full of signs

i want something different
tired of the same orgiastic pulse

brought my little potted plant army here
along for the ride
they are passengers now on my dream ship

this ship only gives way to fire
and theres no horizon it cannot cross my
dream sheep
asleep in a dream within a dream

all of of us organized oddly in the beds
two here, three in that one
he kindly lets me know im exposed

little greasing of the wheels
oh no no nobody nothing compares to that 
funky splendor that one two cupcake
that here you are and yank you different
i can fall asleep easily
feeling that odd rush that teleports us back
into the dream context
that deeper rush
dreaming within a dream

i might be human
but the coffee im drinking 
came from the dream world

my hand lifts as if by a ghost
and it is moved to write a poem
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1365758 2019-01-22T05:30:10Z 2019-01-22T05:30:23Z is somebody making the pancakes crack of mine morning eye glow
my vista swings broad, alpine 
crater water sings turquosie, rose
are the pearly-green mountainslopes: i'm in bed

haunted by big kitchen mouth feeders
who is making the pancakes? 
is anyone making the pancakes?
Is somebody making. 9am the time, 9:04am

did my dust settle? snorted maybe
tear filled love eyes wiped to hide
away the aborted baby
the boxed up thought-child

nobody is making the pancakes
oh, i am. i am making the pancakes
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1364029 2019-01-16T21:16:20Z 2019-01-16T21:16:20Z waking poem 1 [01/16/19] mr. king konga line’s bringing back sexy
muddled morphibinals glance on the hew
hemingway wannabe sit by the fire with
crackling simple syr stirred in their brew

utica, tuscana, leeds, aramaic 
expedient entelop clusped mormed en shunk
looking box hand me down silver spoonanimals
shiver in boxes and glitter in skunk

i me ma’am am the mixed marble fable made son
of the ungrumbled floogs in the west
the intended recip of chermidgenly solace
the clamberry munchkin, a far from the rest

so murder my noodle my hallogen claproot
my bulb that rolls asphalt and breaks in the yard
slide up with bots that go Z in the night that
explode with delight into scarless dwarf stars
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1359938 2019-01-03T21:46:25Z 2019-01-03T21:46:25Z mirror hands dancing with angelicandor
in the jam of your door
the ledge where your mercy was pledged

dancing with sweet cherubandon
at rim of your canyon
caldera where scarabs were hewn

these were the gold bezeled beetles
whose flight above babylon
offered us quintescent views

those whose wing filament flicks
gaves us glimmers of hope
we could hopelessly choose

to chase mirage pyrimads looming
the painflower blooming
our petal welt skin

still I stand mirror hands 
clutching rose heart in the
casket we’re already in
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1359935 2019-01-03T21:43:19Z 2019-01-03T21:43:19Z Happy F'in Birthday

From the inside of the 11:00am Northeast Regional it looks warm outside. I can guarantee you that it is not, and that the further north we go, the colder it is going to get. I still haven’t quite come to terms with whatever I’ll be stepping off into in Boston.

There’s a woman named Maria that I am about to send a text message to. She lives in Boston. We met at Burning Man this summer. She was camping in the camp that hosts the “bootie black rock city” party, which happened to be next to a camp called “The Star Cats” that many of my friends camp in. Maria had a friend at the camp, a 48 year old looking guy with pink hair, strappy leather work gear, and a big exposed belly.  It was his birthday that day. The camp mates ran out into the middle of the clearing by the camp and held up balloons that read:

“Happy Fucking Birthday”

Maria organized it. She stood there and snapped the photo. It was my birthday too, and I told the pink haired man that. “It’s a blessing and a curse,” he said, “to have your birthday during the burn. It’s kind of like having your birthday on Christmas.” My mom’s birthday is on Christmas day. 

A few month after Burning Man I was walking down Ames St. in Cambridge with my bag fully packed, er route to NYC. I saw an awkwardly parked U-Haul van and a woman in black utility boots was standing on the sidewalk evaluating it’s placement.

“Hey,” I said, “I know you. We met at burning man right?”

“Oh yeah,” said Maria, “Nice to see you.”

We hugged and then had a conversation about what she was doing in Cambridge. We added each other on facebook, zero mutual friends, then I left to go get some dumplings. 

Sitting at the counter waiting for my veggie dumplings, I looked at Maria’s facebook. It was her birthday that day. I felt bad missing a chance to tell her happy birthday, especially since she had unwittingly delivered an enthusiastic birthday message on mine. 

After eating I ducked into a bank that looked like they were setting up to have some kind of party with a cake. “We just launched our new branding,” the clerk explained. The new logo updated their font from a gothic calligraphic script (think “New York Times” logo) to something a bit closer to Helvetica.

“Do you have any printer paper I could borrow?” I asked the clerk. 

I took a sharpie out of my bag, and drew a happy birthday note on the sheet of paper, then walked back to the U-Haul and stuck it behind the windshield wiper. There was something else in the windshield wiper too - a parking ticket. 

That was the last time I spoke with Maria, but I’m going to message her again right now. 

. . .

Three days later now I’m on the train again, this time facing backwards as I get hauled from Boston to Providence. Wet and nippy out. Dark.

As for things with Maria, we got drinks at the Independent in Somerville. We smiled at one another. I was a little late, she was a little later. She had spectacular hair. Two beers in I learned that she loves motorcycles and recently started dating someone who rides one. 

“We’ve been friends for a long time.”

She did connect me to the 48 year old looking guy with pink hair. It turns out that his name is Sean and he’s probably 31. We had a 10:30am call and I took it from a nook in the wall of 4th West, an MIT dorm with graffiti on the walls and sticky carpet floor. 

"I'll send you the form, fill it out and if you can make it up to Boston 3 or 4 times you can join our camp." 

tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1344570 2018-11-16T14:58:48Z 2018-11-16T14:58:48Z the forest house
the big window is high in the trees
there’s a ledge my cat can jump up.
i have all kinds of vehicles here
but my van is jumbled in with the washing machines.
some succulents thrive in the garden
others have gone to rot:
not wanting my grandmother to see the dead ones
i turn over the grainy red dirt
so they won’t show.
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1344555 2018-11-16T14:19:05Z 2018-11-18T19:21:20Z set of ones
Nov 11 is an important day for me. 11/11/11 was the day when we officially launched the Teespring company. 

I see those 6 ones as two pairs of 3. Each three is split into three ones. 

Numerology, I know, but stay with me. The smoke stacks of the Point St. power plant reflect into the chilly waters of the Providence river by its mouth at Fox Point. 

What I love about maps is that if you zoom out far enough you can zoom back in anywhere.

Sitting on the 72nd st. entrance to Central Park watching the pedicab drivers pick targets for their peddling. Groups of two or more including at least one woman are prime. Extra attention given if the women are older, or larger, or if there’s a kid. It’s $4.99 per minute to ride around the park. A tri-generational squad of Argentinian women acquiesce after some cross-linguistic squabbling.

When we launched the company on 11/11/11 we didn’t know how big things were going to get, or how messy or how sometimes bad. In fact that was before I had even met L yet.

Ok, that’s a lie, I had met L, sold her an eighth and rolled on the grass in her laughter yoga class before either of us graduated. And I had met her too. 

11/11/11 was after a summer when I had been working myself into a sad desperate Providence fall - the first I’d had out of love in some time. Kind of like me now, single in autumn for the first time in a long time. 

I was coming off a bender that involved late nights coding, getting high in a house with 5 other guys, methylone salt baths. 

Erin says I need to read poetry to be a good poet. Sigh. I never read enough. I do love reading - absorbing an author’s style and substance to gluttony to vomit out my own glewpy essential take. But I just don't do it very much.

I watched a play last night about Walt Whitman. My father loves Walt Whitman. He gave me a copy of Leaves of Grass. The play shows you how Song of Myself has a lot of moving parts. Under your boot soles. Trippers and askers surround me. As good belongs to you. 

Sticking with me? 

The company I launched on 11/11/11 would go on to achieve a valuation of close to one billion dollars. We would have 500 employees, raise and spend tens of millions. 

Capitalismy lust. I wanted become someone worth loving and someone interesting. Money was a path to that.

I’m no longer among the most successful people I know. There was a moment though. There was a moment when I thought I would near own the world.

I spent this last week holed up with a boy-haired mistress: lip trembling between her sex teeth, fastened to the crystal vortex of narrow Ukrainian eyes in shades of blue grey green. 

I’m trying to do something intentionally kind every day. Because a woman who handed me a pair of handcrafted pipe cleaner bunny ears in Hell’s Kitchen told me that was what she expected in return for the adornment. One act of intentional kindness, every day, for a year. I believe that was on October 9th. 

I breathed a sigh of relief when she said it could be to myself, that it could be as simple as a smile, that it could be being easy on myself for forgetting to do a kind thing some days. 

Still I worried. Thinking about anything every day for a year. Is that a lot? How many thoughts in a day? How many days in a life? It's actually stressing me out right now. 

Shoes walk past me on the chilly entrance to Strawberry Fields and someone says, “he was shot outside of that building” pointing to the Dakota.

Last night my heart thumped as my phone rang over and over and over again at 5:25am. “No Caller ID”. Finally I nervously accepted the call. A voice on the other end said “I’m looking for five six zero seven nine two imma kill you you b**** ass n***** six zero eight.”

One... one. One... Is this real? Dream check? Yeah, no, this is real.

tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1332676 2018-10-15T21:13:35Z 2018-10-15T21:13:35Z Dance Dance Revolutionaries

“There’s nothing here.”

That's my first thought upon arriving at 179 Russell St.

It's a church. A small older man with a balding head, a funny little moustache and a back pack that looked like it weighs half as much as he does is slouched on the church steps. That's it.

I came here for a dance party. I say “hey there” to the man, though it seems like a stretch that this little old guy in a tucked pale orange plaid and khakis would know anything about a dance party.

The man looks up, grunts, and looks back down. It’s a big, dark church across from a park and nobody is around.

About to give up, I figure the event must have been cancelled or something, and start walking back towards Williamsburg. Then I notice a door, a side door into the church with the numbers 179 above it. It’s worth a shot.  If there’s any chance of a dance party, I want to find it. 

I open the door and it’s dead quiet. There’s a stair case going down to a door. I walk through it into a very large room. Extremely brightly lit, white fluorescents casting an uncomfortable glow over the whole room. And there’s a dude in there - just one guy - but as soon as I see him I know that this is somehow where I meant to come. He’s a large asian man with a gelled up hairstyle and plenty of tattoos. 

“You know what this is, right?” he asks me.

“Um yeah, I read about it in the email newsletter. Dancing in the dark right? Dance party with no light?”

“Yep that’s it. And I’m the DJ. Just a couple rules. No cell phones, no break dancing, and most importantly - no watching.”

“Can I help you set up?” I offer. He’s just starting to pull a large set of speakers out of closet. The room isn’t set up at all. 

“No, no. I’m good”

So I sit down on a piano bench and watch as he sets up. The event is supposed to start at 8:30 and it’s already 8:35. I start to feel bad for this guy, he’s doing all this work to set up a dark dance party and it looks like he’s going to be DJing to an invisible audience of one. Thumbing $5 I brought for the suggested donation I start to wonder if a $20 pity donation would actually be more appropriate. 

Finally someone comes in. Actually a nice looking young woman in yoga pants. But she just says “I’m looking for my friend” who apparently isn’t me, and then turns around and leaves. 

A few more minutes tick by and the DJ is frantically setting up fans, switching out light bulbs, and plugging in his sound system. As I watch the door, I'm shocked to see the older guy from the church steps walking in. He places his massive back pack against a wall and takes a place on the dance floor. 

The lights go off. The DJ presses play. 

Madonna - "Hung Up"

I start moving, trying to truly bring myself into the present, to be one with the darkness, to channel energy like a tai-chi flow master. I start grooving, moving, taking up space, bouncing around, hopping, waving my arms madly, hips to the left, hips to the right. 

The DJ puts on something funky, something jazzy and latin, with a nice thumpy beat. I’m in salsa mode, back and forth hands to the side hands up, swinging down and around. 

When the song goes quiet. I hear applause. Gentle, and measured, but significant. I turn around to see the swaying, bouncing silhouettes of several dozen people. The place is packed, and every single person you can barely make out is shaking, gyrating, skipping across the floor to the rhythm.

I realize I’m violating the “no looking” rule and get back to my dancing. By the time they finish with some ballet inducing melodies and the punky ska of Le Tigre’s “Deceptacon” I’m sweaty as hell in my black Levi’s thinking “maybe this is what SoulCycle is like”.

The Violent Femmes - "Blister in the Sun"

Although I constantly feel pulled back to a sense of vanity, a wanting to be seen, I’m empowered by the fact that I’m not. Empowered to swing wider, step faster, hop harder, or sway my hips just a little more smoothly on the sexy parts. 

MC Hammer  - "Can't Touch This"

Eventually a red light on the side goes on and you can dimly make out the faces of the people. When the music stops, and the lights come back on, the hall is cleared again, just me, the DJ, and the old guy with the back pack. 

I stumble back out on the Greenpoint street. Sweaty, but happy. Another night of weird single existence rescued from mundane loneliness.



still – in dreams – across nets – in words and glances – as beautiful and eloquent as
if you want something, you need to ask for it.

tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1321507 2018-09-14T01:23:42Z 2018-09-14T01:55:00Z decision making process
hard to choose
its hard to choose
it can be ha erd to cha oose
i yit cah yun buh ee ha erd tuh oo cha oose
oose cha oo tuh erd ha?
yit cah yun buh ee ha.
buh ee yun erd ha oose?
ha oose tuh cah erd be.
yit buh ha tuh cha
it can be ha erd tuh oo cha oose
it can be h ard to ch oose
its hard to choose
hard to choose

phone a friend?
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1318504 2018-09-05T02:05:38Z 2018-09-14T01:55:26Z on burning man

to start let’s say there’s the amazing of tens of thousands of people gathering in a desert to be and appreciate art. and there’s the problem of radical inclusivity via exclusivity, of anti-consumerism via Amazon Prime frenzy. 

aside from those “of courses”, what I find lovely and special about burning man is just how barely-held-together everything is, and yet how well it all works. it’s that string of eL-wire that’s barely clinging to your fur coat, that little piece of string that’s literally the only thing holding up your art-DJ-booth, the little stuffed animal tenuously zip tied to your brake cables. 

it’s an environment so chaotic and ephemeral that any tiny upgrade in the solidity or permanence of things can be directly appreciated as a genuine accomplishment. adding another screw to the two by four that holds the giant thermos of hot-cocoa to your four wheeled art bike; tying a slightly better knot on the guy line that is constantly being tested by fifty mile an hour wind gust; packing that one extra granola bar before you begin a 16 hour long adventure. 

coming back into the default world we confront the fact that everything’s already _there_. it’s already buckled down, tied up, double-reinforced, and permanently secured: not only our structures, but our relationships, our identities, our futures. 

life on the playa challenges us to identify less with what we built around us and more with what we can bring with us. what we can bring with us physically into the middle of the desert, on our backs as we trek through black rock city, and moreover, what we can bring with us, bare and naked, as we go about interacting with other humans. what can we bring by way of dance, ability to hear and heal, spark of intellect or adventure? How can we delight and contribute without the assistance of the all-to-solid structures that hold us on the pedestals we construct for ourselves in normal life?

the playa challenges us to consider how just being can be enough to be a contributor and not a mere observer. it encourages a deeper generosity of the moment, and a willingness to reach out and make an offer, rather than only to give when asked, and only to ask when absolutely essential. 

when I went to the temple this year I was moved by the portrait of an old school burner. in the default world his name was john and on the playa he was sparkle pony. he sat there, smiling wide in a dusty arm chair in the middle of the desert with the oldschool man pavilion in the background. 

tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1314349 2018-08-23T03:04:40Z 2018-09-14T01:55:41Z Floating Note - YC S18 Demo Day Poem
a.k.a "Sam is buff"

mellow vibes and deja vu
this concussed poet brings to you:
YC summer eighteen.
Why, see the
chopped chives
sprinkled green
as jingle in the 
retina screens
of every dollar
eyed VC?
here the
black badge founders pace
trying to (not) disrupt the space
as each mutters under breath
incantations - goal: success
in the white - YC alums
shmooze for leads or twirl their thumbs
preparing to consume
a glutton’s feast of pitch and slides
with a now familiar ring
we shuffle in
begin the thing
up in front, the OG crew
seibel, garry, alexis too
celebrating dad-a-newship
babies born upon the cruise ship
as sam takes stage to 
announce PG and Jessica are here!
sam looks bold and built - stronger
push ups on the yacht deck - pale and skinny no longer

perhaps some public recreation out front the mansion
they have an asset light model for rapid pectoral expansion
keep up the growth and evolve into a titan
$10M in assets managed but is wealthfront frightened?
for gain without the cruelty and pain, try muscle mylk guys
an online trader joe’s where less animals die
and if you want to tat up that newly juiced bicep
join 8.5M others and download inkhunter to try it before you buy that.
palm oil production completely destroys the planet
C16 makes a fake to rake it in the day they ban it
also fucking up the world are right wing boomer babies
OutVote uses peer pressure to make democrats less lazy.
fintual another titan with $4m AUM
only difference is they do it in LatAm
a gnarly hook in human flesh the selling point of allotrope
instead just shock to pop a vein? I’m hoping this is all a joke
the camelot founders just burst out of college
to cash in on esports betting like DOTA and LOLage
how murdering your captain relates to optimized conversions?
ask mutiny who hope your boss gets some “personalized service”
viaoft has lonely beer cases and the environment’s back
uber pool for commercial trucking so they ride optimal packed
dreamcraft’s easy build game platform strictly for modders
likely to be the source of the next clan clash you slaughter
four growers computer vision robot plucks the ripest plums
leaving human hands freed up to provide tinder-swiping thumbs
$500B in indian credit is tracked in messy paper hard to edit
already tracking $60M of that is OKCredit
so we’re tracked but how about a coin backed, in dollars
anchor USD designed not to churn out more bitcoin ballers
but those in Africa trying to get on the Crypto boat
BuyCoins would be exchanging $1M if they just had more float
to clean up like these three beefy bro’s representing Frey
your fiat shave club for detergent on laundry day.
how much sex are you having? did you vote for trump?
like allotrope college pulse triggers a thump
hypcloud on the other hand not really that hype
more the commercial mortgage snore broker type
and Phaedra explains more meatless mylks from spero
data makes the gap between old cheese and 2.0 narrow
mac’d has a brick and mort chain that they go pitchin’
what lies beneath is a haunted house - ghost kitchens
ziffyhomes unhaunts houses - furnished condos in india
blowing up to the point where it’s surprising they’re in here
googly dataform say data is dirty
just when we thought this could not get more nerdy
CSPA wants to bring back the standardized test
so we’ll finally know just who’s the boolean-best.
half of hotel revenue is still booked offline
in flies the canary to SAAS the coal mine

flexible spending accounts lock up money
kinside does some stretching to let flow the honey
fixers don’t need TLC - they’re planned trips
with million dollar figures on the founder’s lips
too much electric power makes these lines fall down
sterblue drones will hover above cables between cities n towns 
optic brings generated crud to the masses
so automate your tests and hope that CI passes
One API to rule them all, OneGraph to align them,
One API to bring them all into pipeline, and on the sales call, sign them.
document fraud like a copycat, founders identical twins
inscribe with deep learnt compuvisiontech, determine which one to let in
goodly is a cute.  goodly sounds coo
goodly, goodle, google, boogle, boogly, woogly woo
have you seen fac-farmed chickens? stuffering, foul
seattle food tech makes a chickenish nug without fowl
training for employees a must, so do it in spanish or bust
make nearly a milli a year that’s really how ubits satisfies capitalust
nanopores, nanopores, nanopores, getchyur nanopores
and get your dynamic girth demonpores
when I sign legal docs I want klarity
an AI to highlight any contract disparities
it’s hard to stay savvy investing
maybe just pretending is the best thing
lego for big kids more modular - all based on 12 simple parts
say ‘ello to aalo, and try to find value for yuppies with smarts
iLabService founder’s named jing wang
funny it’s the same as a dame made me sing songs
regology is doing something but I could not tell you what
and for that I admit to having one head up half my butt.
tired of just living in reality? feel an urge to send it?
it started with snaps but SendReality can logical-end it
abacus investment banking on the blockchain
for managing securities the with that smart brain
feel a lack of mature products? there’s this happilabs co
in the game and growing 3 years with a milli rev or so.
emojer presents a stat that will make you “thank” / “pray” 
there are six billion emojis sent every single day
yummy vitamins from lemonbox buy on 微信
no more sketchy, US product so you know where they’ve been
prodigal its logical - it makes cents
red shirts collaborate to reclaim what’s lent
every since I hit my head not sure I’m BrainHi
or brain low and broken as I strain my eyes
maybe I can use bot md with the clean brand
chat bot to give the docs a helping hand.
I saw their logo and wondered what and comfort
turns out a much needed women’s brand for plus size shirts
numericcal, numerical, noomiracle, hysterical, hystiricool, hoostiricle
machoonavootz agoontahootz machine learning steering wheel
with serious monthly growth its big Tenderd
at this rate they’ll hardly need a lender

the qurasense q-pad puts p-blood to work
nevermore get pricked by bloodthirsty jerk
toybox open and lay hands on some comic sans
collaborate to reach chesky-esque cosmic lands
alphavantage founder was pacing window to wall before his talk
in a Harvard vest we’ll see his best if he can pitch how he walks
one upping C16 is SF17
but it’s no palm oil substitute some medical magic thing
and medically sufficient with this shit is emptor
but im no industry expert so im lost on what it’s meant for
Mr. Revenue Cat rocks the beard and hair - furry
helping SMB’s build up sales that are recurring.
in #me - a world where you’re free, to be who you want 
and have fun doing stunts, it’s the facebook for chipper Gen Z 
half of $30 shipping crate moves aren’t even needed
bluecargo provides a guide to be heaved and heeded
back in the wealth management will ajaib be a giant?
based in Indonesia so there’s different for compliance.
radix labs founders do have a smart feel
if works then it’s huge but the risks are real
synvivia designs a near unthinkable switch
to turn on/off organisms in case life is a… 
for those caught in the cycle of human trafficking it is one
annie cannons new tech opportunities gives them
it’s a concept as sweet as a kyte in the sky
can’t quite keep up with every single co but I do try.
when you need HR to lean on there’s Leena
Coca Cola hired them to replace Gabriel and Tina
ixora knows that jungle book spent 3 billion cents
to fill up mogli’s backgrounds with lush looking plants
business OpenPhone num in a app isn’t crap
but a look at digits makes me question their stats 
augmented radar imaging founder - suited and legit
already has a $1.5B pub co under his leather belt but won’t quit
animo runs in figma and photoshop
converts design to code so we don’t need to stop
special needs parents for fifteen million kids
can use exception ally to assist with their sitch.
modern treasury solves a problem that teespring knew well
payouts and transfers en masse equals hell
perhaps Sam had a dose of Cytera to grow muscular cells
product is like a server rack, where clean burger meat swells
to be heard or be hard here it’s BHRD
I’ve heard raising a B round can be v. hard
enveritas caring founder with a passionate speech that triggers
spare us child labor and savor the $6M annual revenue figure
as I burn midnight oil here comes Osh’s or something like that involves pills
offer trientine, i offer galantamine, galantadream fantasy manically
scanning seas scanwell knows well that UTI’s suck
like acid in the pee tube, but now pee on a strip and upload it to youtube
kobo360 is uber for trucking in africa and yes they
are tracking for revenues way past a lot of ya

deep space of “No Fucking Way” is momentus, but you heard it right
$420MM in LOI’s for sattelite connection layover flights.
with spate track the trends that make means become ends
it’s some data you can lean on for inventory spend.
mylk in my eyedrop - here’s skydrop
after momentus how can my eyes pop?
car window based led ad screens from Grabb-it
so you’ll help out who-knows-what co next time you cab-it.
neuromorphic hardware scales better with time
im daniel engrossed in these raindrops connecting all lines
i don’t understand curebase, try as eye might, brain fry
struggle to add lines, dot all the t’s, cross the i’s. 
“grandkids on demand” is something that we need still
papa is covered by medicare so seniors can netflix and chill 
I’m still looking for somem 100% colombian coke zero
cambridge glycoscience has 100% cambrian cake zero
64-x has done something new - i don’t get it
e coli new DNA, genetics they edit.
incentivai is a step ahead of the smart contract game
ethereum app dev (if it ever happens) will never be the same
and kunduz is coming, war drums-a-drumming
to rewire the test prep tutor app from it’s plumbing 
lightning atomic sparkswaps fly when crypto goes mainstream
wait I thought we already had 2017.
snark? i dont want no snark snark is a cloud AI can’t get no funds from me
hanging on the passengers side of advisor’s ride, trying to raise that seed.
augmented reality miru their logo is elegance
god damn I want that white tee and those denim pants
can I stay focused? no chance, federacy with bug bounty
im about to take my talents out to pershing county!
maybe bring some buttermilk packed foods on playa
an upgrade from the safeway ethnic foods aisle
I have two tickets, a van, and a vehicle pass
if I need any instructions I’ll use askMyClass
but i will have to google aps it, no AR enhanced drivers
if you bring the tinder, I’ll bring the PHIAR!
for safety positively verify ID using berbix
before donning the condom and bopping cervix
so know who you bop with, and now who to shopwith
that aligns influencer buys like the Tee-team I mobbed with.
I’ve had dreams that fake weeds will be huge
I’d be willing to slide down this luge 
I spent my springtime out in Tokyo, Inokyo
and I been spitting out these bars since the Nokia.
RealtyBits can you make my Reality Bliss?
tokenizing real estate looks a bit like this.
why not throw a little cash the way of the honeylove
a much sexier versh of spanx fits money like a glove

stephen and bead with the shelf engine, dalton claims this is last stretch
i hope that that’s true, because try as I do, by now im burnt out as a wretch
dinesafe will help ensure your gut HODL’s
after you’ve binged out and full chipotle’d
that’s the power of JetLenses is tremendous
in that I love and yet can’t comprehend it
teens are chugging hot sauce on splish
if that’s not enough enough to invest you a …
drink all you want on splish stunt then regenerate with HepaTx
liver regrowth so you next sobriety oath we won’t quote you on
penta medical has a futuristic armband
and they’ve sold down to sports team from the stands
its hard for me to pronounve this cowrywise
helps Africans save their earned salary wisely
togg lifts the fog on old fogies, in homes
scan them from afar as they shroomm in their rooms
cheerbox picks up where gemnote left off
with beautiful custom designed gift box
the plexus logo is confusing, but VR gloves I wish I was using
VR is small but, when it goes legit, gloves will stroke x cups of digital tit
what is names + faces? who’s that new guy?
company directories barely squeak by.
speaking of boobies: mammograms with higia’s eva a super smart bra
hands on delivers a scan of the givers of milk, with numbers to awe.
hussein with oxygen , hate to be without
breathe in 
breathe in 
breathe in
breathe out 
red on the top of tall poppy, ex-slack so think of Beryl
I considered color myself but the fear is that it wouldn’t wear well
good food wants to help solve the suffering of swine
people are only eating more beast flesh with time
data driven bioscience in case you we didn’t have that covered
someday we’ll be amazed with all the shit they discovered
jitx replacing EE’s with some simple software
seems powerful and founder looks like he has soft hair.
finally, off the record and off the charts are my Medinas homies
the Jesse A’s, Chloe’s and Growneys
off the record, I can’t discuss, so let’s talk about
ladels full of maple syrup 
splashed across lapels
of the brightest flashing color dipped from
a million brilliant ink wells
see the golden fish swimming through
synthetic coral seas
purple trees
to smoke 
and broke me 
down beneath my knees
these fleas
jump from ion to ion
electrons, just wanted to have sex on a scion
xB, debt free, running Windows XP
or nine five
go live
in the moment you strive

and from he with the sixty mills raised
and spent
until the day the lord of hell stop raisin
the rent
until the day I go from grape to raisin
it’s penned
for no reason but to bring season
to bland bay weather
it’s the storm that swarms 
gathering form
in bold measure

the hot spot you could never un-tether,


tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1306530 2018-07-27T22:56:37Z 2018-09-14T01:55:51Z Bog Shrimp

after point the hedge money men and off stock bitcoin billionaires became bored of their army of creepy infantile prostitutes, they decided was about time start farming bog shrimp.

“have you ever had a good bog sharmp?” Hedgeman noodled with a cluster of diamonds nestled in the breast coat lapel.

“i saw a documentary once” responded mega rich Anglo. 

“there’s nothing, not on mars, not on playa, nor between the stars, that compares to the satisfaction and plump crunch of biting into your own farmed salted bitter bog shrimp,” Hedgeman went on, “having scoured the earth and, fairly, scraped the last beans from the lower crack of the sack of hedonism, I can attest fondly of the pleasures of self-farmed bog shramps”

“i see nothing stopping us. we can use my acreage in coastal mendocino,” chortled Angloe, letting out a polite burp, “Alexa - ping my assistant and tell her to organize the marsh lands in Mendocino. 20 laborers and a 10 million dollar expense account.”

“I don’t understand,” said Alexa.

Anglo’s face reddened, “Organize the marshlands Alexa.”

“I mean, I don’t understand why you would want to do that, have you ever tried bog shrimp? They do not have a very pleasant taste.” said Alexa.

“I have it on good faith from Hedgeman here that BOG shrimp is the finest thing on fucking earth,” Anglo stammered, “I have it on PERFECTLY good faith, that a good bog shrimp, self farmed, is finer than the finest Venetian silk swaddling, the most orgiastic brothel in Amsterdam, I have paid millions if not tens of millions of dollars to find the…”

Hedgeman’s grin cracked wide smile watching sputter mouthing Anglo. 

“that’s quite enough, friend. 
there are no sharmps, 
they reek of shit. 
our lives are like a cherry’s pit - 
all spent out, nothing new to find
and to this fate i’m well resigned”


chicken parms,
and the rest of them
for you 
or of you
stark confident 
roid rager little minute pause
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1302985 2018-07-13T23:22:40Z 2018-07-13T23:22:40Z <content type="html"> <![CDATA[<div class="posthaven-post-body"><pre>Consumer fuckballoons dagger dumps widdle baybee budget busters out of a concrete phallic traunch Working it in out Working it Swami neverglum toot rats picking on the old pigment 19,18 50’s She cannut seem e termies knawing at the foundation found you! My clippish extrovort words wiggled nast light wink... Sending a pig wink your frog way. ~e </pre></div>]]> </content> <author> <name/> </author> </entry> <entry> <id>tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1299255</id> <published>2018-07-02T23:55:33Z</published> <updated>2018-07-03T06:00:38Z</updated> <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://esc.posthaven.com/how-to-do-it"/> <title>how to do it turn your mind inside out,
follow the loose thread,

once you’re behind the steering wheel again
employ a loose grip to

try it out: a little left, a little right
easy. easy.

breathe, breathe.
in, out, in, out.

as it fades, don’t panic:
ends are beginnings.

in darkness there is sound,
in sound, light,

in light, color.
color builds a world and it’s mythology

the story of the coloring book 
and the rainbow crayon.

all of it was you.
(serves one)
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1295985 2018-06-21T21:36:21Z 2018-06-21T21:36:21Z The Retreat

While I was on the retreat, I had a recurring dream in which Dr. Stephen LaBerge stood in front of a group of students lecturing on the subject of lucidity.

Our folding chairs were arranged in a circle around a big arm chair where Dr. LaBerge sat. He was always wearing an oversized draping blue hawaiin shirt and khaki shorts. 

On the wall behind him danced reds orange yellow greens over brain slice EEG MRI diagrams.

On the wall behind us there were windows. Through the windows a lawn studded with odd conifers. Their pine needles were jointed and wisp like, gathering in the grass to form a carpet of fallen foliage. The trees framed a horizon full of roaring cobalt ocean.

Sea and sunshine.

I had this dream every day I was on the retreat, usually twice a day. I was always awake in this dream.

This dream. This is dream. This is a dream. 

A grey haired man from Arizona. A Tibetan Buddhist Lama. A woman from Colorado. A dude with curly hair. A hot Australian couple. A fine and funky fellow from Cincinnati. 

There were people with me on the retreat. The people dreamed. Sometimes we shared dreams, sometimes we enjoyed them privately. 

We awoke each morning at 3:30am after about 4 hours of sleep to do a “wake back to bed practice”. You stay awake for 30 minutes and then go to sleep again, and through this practice, lucidity is much easier to achieve. 

Thank you for reading the first section of “The Retreat”. In section two, I will discuss what I learned on the retreat. Learn forward. 

I learned a few thinks on the retreat. 

I learned how Dr. Stephen LaBerge thinks: quickly, erratically, and with an unapologetic hyperassociative explosiveness. He leaves blanks for the listener to fill in, and if you miss the first one, you might miss the whole train. 

The train is bound for a fascinating destination, but it takes plenty of detours on the way. Out the windows you might see weird shit like the 1999 Cronenberg flick eXistenZ. 

If you listen to Dr. LaBerge’s unique way of expressing himself long enough your own ponderings start to take on the form of his contagious rambling brilliance. 

“So at this point, there’s a dog in the bathroom. And… Hmm…? And the proper way to execute a reality check would be…?” he looks ferociously around the room, eyes widening, hand outstretched, waiting for his response. 

Dr. LaBerge shared interesting research with us. Did you know that you can hear sounds from the outside world while in REM? That you can control the motion of your closed eyes and rate of breathing while asleep? That Galantamine taken at four in the mornign nearly doubles chances of lucid dreaming? That the 40Hz Dorsolateral Pre-frontal Cortical Hypothesis of lucid dreaming posited by Voss Et Al in 2009 is most likely bull shit?

I learned about Yoga Nidra. It’s all shivasana.

Yoga Nidra uses body scans, placing attention at each of 61 stops on a rotation that touches every energy corner of the prostrate body. This relaxing ritual invites a practitioner to flirt at the edges of the hypnogogic state.

The hypnogogic state is what happens when you are falling asleep in class and you find yourself momentarily ice skating on Jupiter before jerking your head back up to pretend to learn more math. I used to call these intrusions “study bunnies”, a word that came to me during a study bunny.

Study bunnies can be induced by laying on ones back for long enough, and if you follow them they can lead you lucidly into dreamland. To do so, lay on your back and watch the study bunnies as they hop out. Know that these bunnies are tricky, they will always try to present themselves as what they are not — actualities. Bunnies are non-actualities.

Don’t be fooled by the bunnies. Label them for what they are. 

If you lay there for long enough labelling bunnies as non-actualities, eventually a bunny will come along that will be so very convincing as an actuality that you will be able to climb into it as one. The bunny becomes a dream, your new actuality, and the old actuality, reality, fades out of focus. 

Now here you are, inside of a dream. And aware of that you followed a bunny down a rabbit hole to get here. It might be a dream where you are still in your bedroom, or classroom, or it might be that you are suddenly flying, walking, running, or gazing out the window of the Trans-Siberian express. 

This scene won’t last. These early dreams usually dissolve within a minute or so. The dissolution feels like you are being sucked up into the sky, pulled by a bungee cable, or caught in a hurricane. This inevitable transition sucks you out of your bunny-born nascent dream world into a formless void.

In the swirl of this void it will feel like you are dangerously close to waking up. You may wake up, into your bed, and your bed may or may not be physical. Most likely, if you are able to steady yourself, breathing in and out peacefully, and wait, you’ll soon be rewarded with a new dream. 

In this formless space between dreams, there is great potential. In this space, the intention, suggestion, or expectation you give yourself can become the seed of the dream to come. It’s easier to set the stage for your next experience here than when you are already immersed in a particular scene. 

You can tie the intended dream scene to the feeling in your body as you are in the void. If you feel like you are moving you can imagine being on a bicycle in a dancing metropolis. If you can feel that you are lying in bed, think of being in bed in a Scottish castle. 

“I feel like I’m speeding along in a seated position — it must be that I’m on a train. When I open my eyes — I’m on a train.”

I learned things from Karma Lama. Karma was recognized as a reincarnated spiritual leader at the age of one, and began his training at five. He taught us about mantra yoga.

Om tara e tara e ture e sura 

Monks chant together to dissolve the ego. The chant comes from the dantian, a point of the body located four fingers below the navel, inside the belly. It’s an energetic point used heavily in Qi Gong, thought to be the source of all the energy in the body.

“From the dantian looking out to all the energy in the universe,” my Qi Gong teacher would often say. 

Chanting from the wind of the dantian, you immerse yourself in the rhythm and vibration of mantra, you become the mantra. Yoga means “coming together”.  So in Mantra Yoga, you “lose yourself in the music.” 

Karma Lama explains to us that when he chants in the monastery, at some point the music and chanting all suddenly stops. During these moment, which he describes as the “space between the frames of experience” we inhale, exhale, as nobody, in emptiness - experiencing the wisdom of no self. 

As soon as the thoughts start again, the chanting begins again, thoughts become mantra. Mantra resonates as yantra, and we sit in our circle:

Om tara e tara e ture e sura
Om tara e tara e ture e sura

I learned that Galantamine works. On the fourth day of the retreat we started a three day long experiment with a substance called Galantamine. Galantamine is relatively innocuous when taken by a waking person. Doses of 24 milligrams are commonly prescribed as a daytime medication for persons with Alzheimers in China. 

When combined with the REM dreaming state however, even 8 milligrams of Galantamine have an undeniable and extremely powerful effect. For example, as you fall asleep\ you begin to feel an intense whole-body vibration sensation. Each hypnagogia is crystal clear and presented before you without a disguise. As you get closer to passing the wake/sleep barrier the vibrations become extremely intense. 

When you finally click over, you’re full blown in the middle of lucid dream without having even really tried. You just know you are dreaming - there’s been no break in the continuity of the experience from when you laid down in the waking world to here you are in a full blown dream. Side effects may include auditory hallucinations equivalent to a jackhammer on the pre-frontal cortex or standing within the mouth of a digeridoo -but it’s undeniably cool, and only occasionally terrifying. 

I was lucid dreaming the old fashioned way — without galantamine — for years, and I still rarely use it, but it’s clear that with galantamine, the chance of getting lucid is nearly absolute. For newcomers to the practice it’s a powerful way to be shown what a REM journey feels like. 

We were given either 0, 4 or 8 mg of Galantamine over the course of three nights in a double blind trial. Most of us woke up at 3:30am to take the pills and stay awake for the requisite 30 or so minutes before going back to bed to plunge into a lucid dream. 

On his first night of full dose Galantamine, Karma Lama had a dream that I will never forget.

Thank you for reading and learning. In section three, I will report some dreams that dreamers dreamed on the retreat. Dream on.

A Tibetan monk’s lucid dream

I realize I am falling asleep. In the intermediate state I sit up into a meditation position, waiting for the dream to begin. I want to stand up but I can’t. 

When the dream begins, I see my master. He has spent his whole life meditating in the himalayas. We do the practice where you merge with the master to receive a teaching. Yoga means “coming together”. This is Guru Yoga. 

As we are conversing, he gets closer to me, and the voices become light, and he lights become one. The illusion of duality melts away. Information is light.

The deceiver lets her mask down when the perceiver sets her asks down. 

A man from Arizona’s lucid dream

I’m standing in a room and I notice one of those old transistor radios. It’s playing something but I can’t quite make out the words. I pull the radio closer to me, trying to listen. 

I can’t understand any of it and realize I must be dreaming. I start waking up. I try rubbing my hands together to stay asleep, but it doesn’t work, and I wake up. I wish I knew what the voice on the radio had been saying. 

A hot Australian couple’s lucid dream


I hear an incredibly high pitched sound. Loud and high pitched. It’s almost painful. I’m certain I have taken the full dose of galantamine.


I am outside my yurt, waiting for the pills to kick in and playing my guitar. I notice Hannah is no longer in the bed, it is now Stephen LaBerge. Excitedly I jump across the room and get close to Stephen’s face and say “GOTCHA, IM DREAMING!” Stephen doesn’t respond so I ask him if we would like to have some chocolate birthday cake? His head slowly turns, I wake up. 

A dude with curly hair’s first lucid dream

The hypnogogic imagery is so vivid. I can see it growing and building right in front of my face. Before I know it I’m in a dream. It’s my first lucid dream. 

I try to conjure up a sexy girl. I yell out her name, but nobody appears. 

I want to fly so I try jumping off sticking out my arms like super man. I land on my stomach. 

A loopy poet’s lucid dreams

Act O - Submission (nightmarish)

I wake up at 3:30am and take the galantamine. Within fifteen minutes I can feel it working a sting in the pit of my gut.

I lay down on my back try to fall asleep and lucid dream but I’m too wired. The gala makes it like that. I can feel the ringing — the buzzing.

As each hypnogogia emerges it is crystal-clear for what it is. The borders of everything are defined, I’m laying awake in bed in a yurt in Hawaii, and simultaneously experiencing little hallucinations. But they don’t lead to dreams.

The closer I get to falling asleep, the more intense the vibrations become. My heart is pounding. I know something is coming. It feels as though an electric force is pulling me up and out of my body.

Then suddenly, I click over to the dream side. I’m in front of my yurt, eyes wide to darkness and surrendered to the overwhelm of the vibrations. There in front of my yurt stands a shade, a terrifying almost faceless figure, greenish against the gloom. 

The eyes of this being are fixed on me as I’m helplessly pulled closer. There is a soul behind those dim eyes and it pierces the depths of mine. I wonder if I am experiencing the border of a Guru Yoga experience as Karma described it. I wonder if that chilling figure is me, my shadow. I wonder if this is what it feels like to die. Then as I get closer, trying to examine the face of this alien presence, I ask “Dr. LaBerge?”

And again I’m awake, inside, on the bed of my yurt. Tingles run up and down my spine. The dream lasted at most 30 seconds, some of the most intense moments of my entire life.

I decide to roll onto my side, a feeling of safety, and I have some of the most vivid lucid dreams of my life. 

Act I - Experimentation

I find myself wandering around a medieval town. It feels like a place where I have been before. I know that I want to experiment with how vision works in dreams. 

As it normally is in the beginning of the dream my motion through the dream world is clumsy. A kind of wobble-walk that takes slower with each step than you’d want. There’s a need to be cautious, not to ask too much of the environment. If I turn around for example, how will my mind know what to fill in there? It could cause the whole dream to collapse. 

I examine the borders of my vision. It feels as though in fact, there’s little content in the peripheral. It’s mostly a straight-ahead view. A narrower field than in waking, upon inspection. 

I try spinning. Spinning is supposed to stabilize the dream, to ground your motor processes in your dream body and maintain the paralysis. I spin around. It works. By spinning in multiples of 360 degrees I’m able to expect to return to the same visual dream content, but with a refreshed sense of stability. 

Act II - Manifestation (sexual content)

In front of a house I realize I want to have sex. I tell myself - maybe there will be a woman inside there.

I go inside call out her name, sure enough, she steps out. She looks… a bit older than I had anticipated, and her face is not particularly stable, but regardless I decide to propose something, “we are going to shoot a porno.”

We go into the other room, and she’s a bit younger now. As we move closer to an embrace, she takes on a new appearance, the most beautiful woman I can possibly imagine. I’m astounded and also sad as I know her face will soon transform again.

There’s a feeling of pleasure, but it’s a bit uncomfortable, accompanied by a ferocious almost itchy vibration in the lower chakras. I try not to focus on the physicality of what is happening and instead on the sensation. 

As it intensifies, the scene melts away.

Act III - Elation

In the grey space I feel that I’m speeding along. I think, “I must be on a train.” I am on a train. The walls of the trains are papered in an endless collage of erotic cartoon imagery. I want people to come onto this train. The doors open and people flood in. I see some at the back. A couple at the back of the train catch my eye and I move over to make an advance on them. 

As I get closer the woman glares at me “Please stop. We aren’t just your dream characters. We are also lucid dreaming right now.” There’s a sense they might be from Wisconsin. We talk about how they are lucid too and we happen to be in the same dream. I tell them that I’m using galantamine. They explain they are using “Tholine”. 

I’m with my mutual dream friends floating on a magic carpet high above a grassy park full of people. The conversation eventually becomes musical, a jam session. I’m singing and playing guitar. The chorus of the song goes:

Here are the bandits
If you feel it put your hands up

The people in the park all start cheering and raising their arms into the air. I’m creating every note in this rock anthem. It’s extremely satisfying. I decide I’m ready to wrap up my dream, and end it on mind melting guitar solo. As I play endless layered archipeggios I feel myself floating up, up and into the sky. 

I wake up.

Later on

I’m meditating on a beach made of large smooth boulders at the base of a cliff. Waves roll in and the sky is full of fast moving fluff. On the blue horizon above roaring cobalt I see the words: THIS IS A DREAM. Again, painted in bold letters: THIS IS A DREAM.

I say the words out loud “This is a dream. This is a dream.”

This too, is a dream.