Oh, should I read something I'm-- no.
Yeah.
OK, I'll read this thing I've never read.
Does that sound good?
Yeah.
OK, all right.
I'm really going out on a limb here.
Whoo!
And then I'll do two more.
So three more poems.
Sound good?
Whoo!
Yes.
OK, so I'm writing a book about pigs.
So this is one of the poems.
There's a sequence called pig bottom looking for x--
x, y, z.
And this is called, "Pig Bottom Looking For Now."
Yeah.
I take pills and pass out in front of cameras,
wake up to messages hyped to find me unconscious
or worried I've left this body altogether.
An overdose on a live streaming jerk off site
would no doubt be an embarrassing way to go.
[LAUGHTER]
They're so angry I'm gone.
Don't like to see a body emptied of its spirit
draws attention to their own body.
I mean, would rather watch pleasure stampede
through a stranger on screen like water
through a hotel faucet.
The watchers leak in dark rooms into thin screens.
I close my eyes, only to open them on the same country,
open them on a man braying like a dial tone,
on a group of girls laughing in Tacoma,
to messages asking, "Are you OK?
Are you dying?
Are you dead?"
Just stay like that.
Just like that.
Don't move.
I'm almost there.
Don't make a sound.
I close my computer.
I go rinse my mouth.
Cool.