The First Steps

Friday, October 27, 2006

Chronicles of a Queer API: The Testosterone Files

Sunday, September 10, 2006

My new blog is:

The Wolf Man Howls


A new website will follow. This blog will most likely be allowed to "float" in space. If I update, it will be a surprise, but mostly, I will be on the other blog.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

I will be deleting this blog soon, but saving some of the text for my new blog and website.

All will be announced in time.

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Conversation with Mad King Seth of the Hotel Rotor Auto- Max Wolf Valerio 8-21-9-8/98

Opera - never got me going.

I have tried to listen to it but it doesn't fit into my ears.

I think possibly they are too long or
too square or-

that a rotund object juts
above
my
sweltering


aversive

fresh and

indiscrete tingling weight

and wiggle
haunted POSITIONS

I want to know. I have a question for you.
This thing
gets me into trouble.

I wish that I could understand the weight of glass on my fingers in dreams. The way my head
grows so long and opens up the roof with a stabbing crackling force.

I wish I could understand why
meaning is so important at all.

How I manage to escape- barely, from all sorts of trouble.

The selfish way that I act in my night walks, slipping out the door and
into a long limousine and cranking up my stereo and
having a damn good time.

I am
after all
the hard criminal
with a motorcycle dragon
I love to dawdle over faces of people
who enjoy balloons and ice.
I draw their bodies on the black velvet screen and wash bright colors over my face in the morning while
rolling flat stars stream like white cars over
the tight night lines

I am a net of
telecommunications
numbers and data infractions
I am mad king Seth sleuth of
the sliding tiger
the enemy
in a Mexican roll of coins and car ornaments

still in the soft morning counting dream animals -

Walking into the Crossroads


a black line crosses the alley

behind my back
a long, thin spoon bends
a wand
into clever and elite
proportions


tuning fork emissions
force sounds
octaves below
deep wounds

glands retreat and
bay



Max Wolf Valerio
July 11-2000
rev. Aug - 3- 2002

Friday, May 20, 2005

Conversation with an Old Ghost who Smoked-

Max Wolf Valerio 8-21-9-8/98

Now I have always had hope I couldn't be defined - know what I mean? Like all those who come over before myself. Spontaneous with a wig of crackers
and ice. A stinking spire
with rolling guns in
mouth.


There was a small brigade and a horn
played in the background - slow ragged notes
spilled nostalgia all over the blue and green -
synthetic grace tied up faces
and bound hands
to the sides of cheeks with
an athletic accomplishment.


There is another name for this beauty. It's that wise
cracking hell hound. That bound- for- glory son of a bitch.

Keep the pitch tight. At the second you hear the crown, the little
Crown lit up by golden points of light and sound, when yu see it
Or think yu see it moving on
The desert freeway held by the nimble fingers
Of the sun - the slag round
Feathers and mist blood wild
On the hairs of each one -


the rows of men with satin hats on
the rows of women with moon lips and jet plane voices

"We call and call the 800 numbers for prizes"

and attached to the distinct hairweaves of faith healers-
an indistinct echo pointing and kneeling off the
tops of their heads - pointing and dragging

raising the roof off the pyramid - the houses ---


It's the flecks of dust in the eyes
of gameshow contestants
the riddled deer
slanted and tiny
with hooves
tied to her delicate feet
faint and eyelashed and briefly seen
hysteric in the backlight

faces and houses lit with cottony white lights

Saturday, May 14, 2005

in under moon

harp songs




Still

sex leak


pilot

air


notation

number free


solo
air byte

microphones bent to hair poodles
metastic elementals

society my
perfect view


vis-a-ta-tion -- visibility invisible vise --

highrise moon goddess

put me on hold and punctuate me





Max Wolf Valerio
May 14, 2005

Thursday, October 28, 2004

Written upon the Lunar Eclipse



the moon

--blood, spinal tissue, hearing –

Suspended above the large, irregularly shaped black domes

by cat string

---- sliding back and forth –

amazed and glorious -- red as fire

on--sight --- targeted

swollen with

temperature and height

a stone searing and tearing

sky



Max Wolf Valerio
Oct. 28-2004