in all the world in the tallest of grasses

near the bubbling brooks atop the neighingest asses floats a butterfly of majesty a notebook full of dashed dreams a pocketful of shaving cream a mousekateer of slutty fear

her name was dopey seventeen prom queen of the unseen. typist with the jelly beans, icycle licker at walgreens. never said a bad word, never touched a dead bird, always said the right things strung out on my collard greens.

touch me if you want

touch me if you want

she loved to say the darndest things

touch me



now here.

we’d walk down the street and it felt like spain it felt like led zeppelin street it felt like baja. she held my entire arm in hers she couldnt get enough she couldnt smile more she couldnt but she would if she couldnt but she could: wait.

never saw when harry met sally and he loved her for that what about joe versus the volcano and she said no what about sleepless in seatle and she gave him a look like come on think alternative nation think exclusively babish feel her docs under the table think slightly unstable.

come over here closer

she sign languaged so subtlely

george forman grill clicked off

hot tub started bubbling

she said i feel like im chasing you all over

she said i feel like im another bladeless lawn mower

and certain falls the cocky rocky

lost but sure his way is right

turns his back upon the present

and sleeps alone and cold at night

but he did have a magnificent

and throbbing

mighty sword

the kind they talked about

round the world

an envy to some

a miracle to others

a dream for daughters

a sin for their mothers

but then there was sonny

fake name was tony

teef full of gold

hollow leg stuffed with money

whattya writing about. love. what about. about a woman who has to pick between a man with a huge magical perfect dick and a man who doesnt have one. what does the other one have. a baldspot, and hes a good writer. anything else. no. hmmm well hmmmm does the other guy have enough money to get a vibrator. yeah. well then whoevers nicer

she had small teeth and made brocolli beef. candles everywhere even in her hair. she knew something right she was super high. he knew everything but he was about to fry.

sometimes theres a sound out there something not so kosher there sometimes theres a sometimes something sometimes times some sum times tie me’s.

and summer brings a false september through the waving grains of gold

and mothers call their daughters home but

somewhere theres one

not alone.

chokey chicken + large american penis + kitty bukkake

went to the grocery store today

one of the striking ones. theres a grocery store strike going on in california, fyi.

i dont know why the people are striking, but they are. four grocery stores: albertsons, ralphs, vons, and some other one. basically all the biguns.

somehow they pulled the strikers away from Ralphs and said that we can shop there if we want, but the people who will be working there will be scabs, but its cool. dont ask me how that makes any sense.

lately ive just been eating out cuz when i sold hot dogs at candlestick i was union and i loved being union and i swore that id never cross a picket line cuz being union ruled so mightilly.

so i went into the store today, and right before thanksgiving the Teamsters said that they would honor the strike and they wouldnt bring food to the striking stores. somehow that doesnt include Ralphs, who today had about 90% of the food that they normally had.

what was missing? you ask. well, let me tell you. about half of the make-your-own salad tray, pre-cooked chickens, various chunks of fruits and vegetables, etc.

but what was really missing was the smile and professionalism of the checker.

the dude i got, the scab, was bad!

imagine that.

here the guy is getting paid to screw over a striking worker and he was no good at it.

i didnt get a receipt and the chick behind me didnt get a bag.

for those of you reading this from third world countries, let me explain something to you about america and our grocery stores: we Are our grocery stores.

supermarkets is what we call them. there needs to be every fruit and vegetable that can be grown or manufactured – all ripe, no blemish, and low priced. every shelf needs to be packed. every corner display needs to be bright and cheery. there needs to be a huge deli with a short line. there needs to be places where one can sit down and speak to a pharmacist and measure ones blood pressure FOR FREE. there needs to be a machine that will accept all of our coins from our piggy banks and within seconds tell us that we have collected a FORTUNE.

everything should be on sale.

we need name brands and generics, seasonal items, international cuisine, fresh meats and seafoods, and hot bread at any hour. there should be a customer service counter where i can get my bus pass and where michael jackson can get his payday advances.

and that shit needs to be 24/7 with free parking.

i once went to a supermarket that made you put a quarter in a shopping cart so you could use it, and once you returned it you got your quarter back.

we burned that store down within a week.

even the old ladies arrived with mason jars filled with gasoline.

so, todays experience with only 90 percent of the store filled did not impress me, nor did the poor service. so i will begin my strike against Ralphs post-haste. thank you.

banks + brody + right over there

saturday night live tries so hard to

make jimmy fallon funny or interesting or edgy or witty but all they end up making him look is pathetic.

the other day they wrote him some good double entendre jokes with miss paris hilton and you know youre not much of a comedian when shes better at reading the jokes than you are.

lucky for him most girls and gay guys think hes cute.

hank in my comments says that i should stop trying to be charles bukowski and just get back to being tony pierce and hes got a point, buk was a great poet short storyist and novelist and im just an average blogger and photo essayist.

but then bro from france told me that i should give up blogging for a while and write a novel.

i dont want to write any damn novels.

and i dont want to stop blogging.

and i certainly dont want to go to work tomorrow.

super hot chick came over today to take me to the laundrymat. we never made it out of the house.


soon as she came into the house i couldnt keep my hands off her. best part was she loved my hands all over her. third girl in a row ive met who feels this way about my hands on their person. fascinating.

we were making out standing up. my hands wouldnt leave her ass. then they settled for the lower back. skin so smooth i was sure she was just another android, but the switch on the back of her neck only flipped from human to superhuman and didnt include android, so we were good.

my sheets were off my bed, pillowcases filled with dirty clothes, so she threw me on the bare mattress and i bounced right off cuz you need the jams. came back from the weight room with the boom box, popped in the new nelly, the derrty remixes, took off my cubs hat, and clapped twice.

now im a sucka for cornrows and manicured toes


droppin outta high school, going straight to the pros


and there was a time when i could make it through a double album but lately ive been lucky if i can make it to the chorus of track one

which is fine cuz the thai arrived and what cheerleader doesnt love thai on a rainy coldy sunday night?

we ate all cuddled up and toasty and watched the simpsons which was good, south park which was great, and viva la bam which was pretty good.

and then she asked for second helpings and i asked if i could at least put a sheet down and she said of course, but we never made it off the couch.

franklin ave + treacher + dawn olsen + david janes