Monday, January 31, 2011


by fLOT 

Coagulating sunshine and blue sky
Melted into my mind
Sentences framing words
Cancelling wanderings
I had scheduled

Little mental developments
Snowballing with gravity
Explaining what we all can see

Suggestions and suggestability
Propose ideas inside of me
I vocalize the floating systems
Allowing and debilitating actions

Concrete in my head developing
Explanations of the edified extrapolations
Fancy words sound good together
Voiding the mindless meandering

Pushing pulling lifting and culling

Ripping open new realms
Tipping over old carts full of cartographers
Mapping the revoluting culture and language
Against the moments we live inside and around
Barely understanding whatever we can

Happy to have that
Happy to have anything

Santa Cruz, CA

Thursday, January 27, 2011

I Call This One Telling

houses lay unbroken
'til I 'grace' a new front door
you could be the newest victim
precious on the floor

spilling drinks in dining rooms
where mothers served your meals
new grounds for the fallen boys
and all their deals

put me in your mouth
and spit me hard against the ground
I've not been the worst mistake
since the last you found

ring the bells in town square
grace me with the fetid stench
of one more lonely hidden ace
on a picnic bench

she can say all he can sway
together there's a game
put the bloody toys away
award their fame

the loser and the gambler here
are skewed and so the same
the mark is stamped on champions
with dangerous names

they take the knives of suits and ties
and brand a grand new noose
they'll wrap it 'round your neck and claim
they hung you loose

forget the bloody bottom
when you see the shiny top
if bitter boys will kill you
for your bottle tops

Monday, January 24, 2011

no viet cong ever called me a cab

if it isnt this place or these people...the faces that dont match the names...i remember vinegar and the way she caressed my skin with that lint brush and limp wrist wore slacks to fit in with the neighbors...letting you smash yourself to pieces against my better judgement was a privilege i've pushed to deserve all my life...ive been waiting for something look forward to daybreak with clay dust on my boots...

brand new brain same ol venom
and a heart i break out of habbit
disregard the moments where i swore i would recover
idiots play with the sharpest tools

An excerpt from a poem by God

Anything more than a dream
Is just a reality

Reflecting on the ceremony

I wanted my suicide to be more like a marriage
...With all of my friends there
Like lifting off to another world
We shake hands and say goodbye
Liars. Druggies. Tramps. Thieves.
Comedians, all, drinking the derelict night into oblivion.
As per our vows, death and I walk away into the shadows, lovers eternal.

Monday, January 17, 2011



We entered into italics
through the font door
bent on any emphasizing of
the unmentioned qualities of
a word inside a context or
text chopped up re-arranged
in a different order
some hop skotch hodge podge
indicating how often
Bill cut-up his words versus
Jack’s essentials of spontaneous prose roses
of cutting beauty in
immediate form never nurtured.

The way never changed (much any way)
after the original preconceptions
proved to be remembered
to paper’s posterity permanently.

8.13.oh ate

Friday, January 14, 2011

Rita Hayworth

I have this picture of Rita Hayworth

on my desktop.

She’s chowing down on

a sandwich

much too big for her mouth.

I love this picture.

Gorgeous Rita caught

in an unattractive moment

reminds me that we’re all ugly sometimes,

and we’re all beautiful, too.

Because Rita, she’s still gorgeous

but now it’s because she’s human.

She’s not just a poster on my wall;

a beauty of the Silver Screen;

She’s sitting on the beach,

stuffing her face because

she’s hungry

and it makes me feel good ‘cause

I get really hungry sometimes, too.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

The Ballerina

The winter's thorns
stick her fingers through her gloves
she slow dances alone
in her bedroom at the mirror
she cuts herself out of all her pictures
and piles herself on the bureau
she doesn't want to see
where she's been before
the ballerina twirls on the music box
the yellow light softens the walls
and she thinks that someday
it'll kill the flowers on the paper
she takes off daddy's dog tags
slips them beneath her pillow
an ambulance blares a siren through her window
and the ballerina ends the dance
she sweeps herself into a valentine chocolate box
puts her background scraps in the trash
blows her mirror a soft kiss
that doesn't make the noise
and continues an open ended prayer

Constant Motion

In constant movement,

we stop for awhile

to contemplate Jupiter,

or point out Orion,

his great belt of stars

sparkling in the night.

We stand silent,

only for a moment,

in awe of the heavens

in all their infinity.

And, here, I think of the vastness

of the world around us;

The universe, forever pushing outward,

expanding farther into nothingness;

Conquering the outer-space of


in some holy search,

like Cortez, mad on greed,

exploring South America,

looking for Gold.

Us, too:

forever wandering,

searching for gold

at the bottom of

pints of beer.

Or in the pools

of a pretty girl’s eyes

on a winter night.

Monday, January 10, 2011

days, they dance into
one another
the nights
sultry summers sway away
the trees, now a golden explosion
autumn leaves, confetti-like

and all the cigarettes smoked
and all the wine drunk
and all the music played
and all the spoken word

and all the wide-eyed tomorrows


in a building that's filled with info and knowledge, i am left feeling like a shriveled, dried sponge. i lag. each day here gets bleaker and bleaker. i desire bigger buildings, enormous knowledge, growth.

The Swirling Cosmos

I am all I need
Everything else is accessory
The world, it's sky, and the stars inside
They are all mine
And it will all reel back inside me
At the end of time

Sunday, January 09, 2011

I Love The Memory, Still

Right or wrong, I wouldn't mind to see you
I wouldn't mind to see you
I wouldnt mind believing you
It's been so hard to reach through
Words are so brittle
Shattering in the air into dust
That gets caught on our inward breaths
We call it conversation
We say "won't you come with me?
Won't you have some wine? With me?"
But no one else says it like me, to you

Flirting and Agriculture on the Westcoast - or -how to keep warm throughout the trim season

He lifted her up

They climbed the ladder onto the dry shed roof
Big beautiful and freshly built
And sat there with the stars
Late in October
Smoking cut cigarettes
being strangers becoming friends

It's quite something else
The way the seasons turn out here
Everything is mostly evergreen
With an occasional deciduous treat
The flood of memories that rush in with the spotting of a yellow or orange leaf.
Can you still smell fall out there?
I miss each and every pile of brown wet leaves raked by the side of the road.
Here it all burns.

The seasons change out west is marked by harvest. Something equally extraordinary happens this time of year, as miles of brilliant color littering the Garden State Prkwy distract drivers from the monotony of their commute, mother natures beautiful locks of foliage attracting out of town oglers, the western lands are alive and buzzing with an influx of transient eager faces all on the same mission.

Come harvest time a certain caliber of folk are gathered together. Friends of friends of friends who may know a friend or two of yours, mostly strangers, travel from literally all over the world to become a part of this community. To live and work together, sequestered on farms hidden in the landscape at the end of private dirt roads in remote valleys. Families are born.

I guess you wouldn't consider it dissimilar to a typical working environment in some aspects. You are there to get paid, and you may not get along with all your colleagues. Some days are productive, some asi asi. But one overwhelming difference is that at the end of a 9-5 work day (so to say) you get to go home. During harvest you're already home.

You have chosen to become part of a whole. You work eat play and grow as one. You cook meals for your 20+- family members. You sort out misunderstandings and calculate costs. You roll your ankle in the mud. You fix atv's and generators. You tell stories. You turn buses into bunk houses. You fend off rippers and put out fires. You catch moths with the littles and welcome new family with hot tea and coffee. You sing and dance and joke and laugh. You fight. You take cigarette and beer orders before you drive into town. You help a family member get to the clinic 1 and 1/2 hours away for an abortion. You explore. You feed the livestock and cry when you lose a goat. You celebrate birthdays. You learn. You listen. You run out of water and refill the tank. You walk up the road to search for reception. You avoid poison oak. You climb up ladders onto dry shed roofs. You make family outta strangers.

3 to 5 months later you part ways
Pockets full
Lives changed
Strangers not so strange.
And you keep in touch and you don't forget.
maybe you'll see them around the same time next year
Or at a show or festival
But that's a whole other story revolving around an even larger family

You miss it when it's gone
You enjoy the freedom of the trade
Nothings really free though.
There's a lot of risk and even more money involved.
If I wanted to fool around with numbers and other peoples money all day I would have become a stock broker or investment banker
Not everyone loves every facet of their profession
I sure do love my family though
And taking chances
And ladders and rooftops and late October stars
And remembering the smell of fall on the east coast....

Saturday, January 08, 2011

In all honesty

I hate most of what I write.
It got worst when a fellow writer friend started introducing me as a writer. "she's an incredible poet" he'd tell a room full of lawyers, CEO's, agents, and genius programmers.
It was uncomfortable at first and if I were a blusher I'd be an over ripe tomato, one that's starting to split.
Eventually I got use to the way it rolled awkwardly off my tongue. I'd say it as if it were a secret I've been keeping my entire life, heavy, and relieved to let it go. Or like a question. I'd ask, "I'm a writer?"

I'm not a writer. I didn't really ever and don't want to be. I want to record stuff and play it back. Just hit a button and capture it all. It's much more exciting and honest that way because nothings tainted by one sole perspective. There you are. That's you. No way around it. As a writer I can make you out to be whoever I see you as. Everyones a shade of grey.

When you claim to be a writer you can pretty much be as fucked up as you want to be. It's a free pass for folks to excuse your insanities, absurd behavior, even your addictions. God knows a little wine never hurt to help set those creative juices flowin free. And rarely do you have to prove yourself....You could literally write shit on a cocktail napkin, throw some random observation and a fist full of flowery adjectives down there and none the wiser will contest your claim. They may think you're a shitty writer. You're still a writer.

People ask me what I do, which everyone always wants to know from anyone else when you're out in the scene making small talk by asking generic loaded questions, another being "how have you been"... I still say I'm a writer. It's much more exceptable then divulging to them what really pays the rent. (As leiniant as this great golden state is.) I also don't let on that maybe I haven't left my house for more then a few hours in the past week and that I'd rather be in bed writting then out making glittery conversation with people who I can assure you will never read a lick of this.

Thursday, January 06, 2011

anam ċara

I thought you were crying

because you saw what it was

I was drunk off of seagrams, red wine,

and then some

“Don’t go,” she says.

It’s only now that I see the reasoning

behind your tip-toe smile

in keeping me here

was to see if I had caught on

initially it had crossed my mind

that there was something

good left to hold on to

but now it’s giving me nothing

aside from more incentive

to get the fuck out of this place.

they’ve always been vindictive little bitches

scooping up leftovers, behaving like famished vultures

to leave but a hollow man at my doorstep

begging to come in, just so he can court the maid

the words inked on your soul are self-evident

that those tears of love

were really tears of regret

you probably imagined his hands

sliding up your shirt

maneuvering into your pants

and how it felt when he...

I’m a naive gal

and it’s time to move on

when I take the southwestern route

I’ll continue my education & earn a Masters

I’ll acquire an internship in Hollywood

I’ll work my way up the ladder

with the rest of the rats

I'll direct a feature film & you’ll see my vision

& I’ll travel the world off the beaten path

I’ll stumble upon new romance

nothing to distract him

from my brains and my smile

not like here

where it’s all about looks

& not about substance.

not here,

where your best friends

they tend to become your enemies

I wanna..

start new

where nobody knows me

& I can be just another artsy fuck

strung out on success

I knew there would be secrets,

but not to this degree.

I remember the precise moment it all happened, too

can you tell me why he wasn’t worth it?

I know you know, and you don’t know that I do.

Fuck new jersey.

A letter to all best friends.

I'm cleaning out my 2010 closet- these are all remnants found at the bottom of it- Im calling the lot of them: Afternoon Eggs


Going back to landlines 
Scattered thoughts two cents lost
The drain is clogged
Splitting logs
For the fire inside

We hide in our little spaces
And make family outta strangers
Growing closer with the cold 
Cracking jokes just to keep warm

I remember what the seasons lost
When you move from coast to coast 

It took three to fill the shoes left behind from loving you

Little birds with hollow bones
The way they fall and sore 
As if they're one

Someone said you must pay
For the tounge you trip over 
And the words you don't say

Drunk and in your truck
Blownout eardrumbs
Didgits numb
The wrong kinda bumps
Hood rat stuff

I'll talk to a cigarette any day
Probably till they talk me to death

Hey there little robin 
Pickin through the corn
The day is commin 
Soon now
Wild little one 

We're all going deaf
And  we trip on our tounges

Found the holy ghost
Lurking throughout 
the walls of Madrone
Caution now
Don't get caught

I like finding 
your broken guitar strings
On the floor of my room
By stepping on them 
Even when they sting

Don't irritate the dinosaurs

We are next generation acid causualties 
Over sencitive cry babies
Viens collapsing
Music freaks

Down some San franciscan street rambles a rittilin kid, an entertainment writter who's lost his goddamn mind.... 

There's a special relationship between the toast and the egg

It's a nice night in the city of your heart

Destiny calls from the mensroom stall
"buy her a drink on me!" 
As they humbly fumble through a gold cane Monday
New friends and pool sharks
Dropping quarters in the juke box
Getting caught w/ bathroom bumps
Walkin home way too drunk 
Losing all of Tuesdays charm

Some things you just do.

Why do you make me feel so good
Read the words over and over
Make sence of something
And something from nothing

Take off your clothes and fall into bed
Tried to find a home in people
Tired and tired and tired of sleeping

It is weird out there

One silver leg warmer had fallen down to her ankle
She had no idea how good it looked 

How do you jump in heart first? 

An Understanding

We don't have to be so strong 
You and I
We don't have to get it right all the time
It's overwhelming really
Everything sways 
Whats expected of us darling 
You don't have to stay with me tonight
Sleep where you lay that's fine
Just let me know I'm on your mind
find some simple way to show me
Just catch my eyes once and see me
And really mean it

Defective Halmark Cards

Effortlessly you slide
Around a room I occupy
Tired in your eye
Rest here just a while

Back to the road you fly
With some smile by yer side
Effortlessly you hide
What is willing 
Something mild.....

Happy valentine
Your heart is wicked wild
 each time I let you in
A broken heart threatened

And I don't know what you want
Because we never talk 
It's on purpose
And effortless
And yes 
the weathers nice 

But I'm jaded and you're selfish
And I'm selfless and you're wasted
And I'm just abusing myself
 if I keep you around
So happy valentines
Not so effortlessly 
I draw the line 

More then Questions

First of all why am I awake? It's 7:38am and I haven't been up all night... 
I fell asleep on the side of the bed I sleep on when yer around, but awoke layin on the side I normally sleep on alone. 
Fell asleep face down, lights on. 
Seems I've gotten use to this...
Waking up a drunk mess on your side of my bed.... 

That night I saved your life

Holdon for dear life cause yer fallin 
To the side
Slipping out the car window 
With the wind 
And the highway beneath

Grab my hand I'll pull you back in 

Drunk with You

I just want to drink with you
Laugh and sway and tip off the stool
When I'm out and about and on my own
the point is more than less apealing and I am just alone
But the breeze today feels like a promise to myself I'm keeping

I want to drink to get drunk and fall asleep next to you
In my bed, in yours, wrapped in something that's ours
Knots of legs and arms and snores
Waking after noon
Smiling kisses yawn

Now I'm no alcoholic,
 tho some may lie suspect 
Like my father who claims he remains one step
always in front of me
Or the other one who shares his blood, his dark circles and rececive genes
Who calls me with the moon 
Slurs his way over the wire
Liquor dripping fool
Crashing gates with a cigar smile 

No I'm not like them 
No, im sure
i've been back and forth with it before
Tumbled it again and again
Around the swelling in my head 
I tried it out 
To drink em down 
And wash away
Faces names 
Love and pain
But they remain and that's okay

Cause I want to drink with you today
Lay down our swords read between the lines
Make memories I can play back when we're old
Just killin time

Sometimes I let my mind wander

God I'm wide awake again
Crawling round inside my skin
Just can't seem to get this thing right
Yawn away the daylight hours and toss away the night
Wheels they turn, teeth clench and grind
Thoughts weave their way through webs of mind 
And intertwine behind my eyes with things I've seen or keep inventing
Part of me still pretending I never was born, never could have been

If I could I'd fall asleep and sleep in 
Neglect the mourning rays peakin in
Draw the curtains so no one can see in
Lock the door and lose the key ring
Drop it down a canyon
Watch it bounce of rocks and land in
A wild river rushing 
To greet the wide wide ocean
Where it's swallowed by a stergen
As by he goes swiftly swimming
Who's swooped up by a pelican
A few higher on the food chain
Who gulps his catch down in
One deep breath and then
Later dies from poor digestion 

All these feelings
Dead nerve endings
Washing over me
Keeping sleep at bay
Patiently I wait
As the waves break
One after another
Crash in upon eachother
As I tire
And slip away.... 


the accident

I left your face on the floor
Dropping the keys as I walked through the front door
The cars out there on the lawn
with the windows all broken out
I don't know how I got here
Or why you call me by that name
Who you even are to me 
is something I can't place
The ringings loud this time
Much louder then before
But there's the number 
There's your face 
I left it lying on the floor

Huck- drunk on IPA and Tuesday

I didn't know what sixteen was
And the worth of a clean drivers lincese
I was cold and just wanted to get warm
So id beg to be let in the car
And they were thrilled to have a solid driver
Straight through to the next show 
I'd night ride on
I'm scared of how happy I may become
You should see my alter, the locks of hair
Throw it to the water 
Seeing a star born in a head light-

Lexi's Moth Hunt

Alexi watched a moth
Fat and pink one night
Bumping into walls 
Confused by the light
The next day while I was cleaning
I found that moth still clinging 
To the curtains in the kitchen
Outside it been raining
a strange thing for this season
and the moths wings were dripping 
the dust had been washed from them
One day flying
With only the moon to guide him
Now shuttering stuck inside
Keeping dry
At the end of his life 

We're all addicts or ex's

The sun will be up soon 
Cyotts howls high the moon
Wrapped up in the back 
Of captians truck again
Cold feet, strange sleep

This time of year only last
A different hill
Same thoughts still
Of you and Where you're at

Out there with the road
Singing bold yer soul 
High and on a roll
Stumbling, juggling
Wonder kid
Livin to live
Perfecting it

Playing back secrets
Kept locked up and key less
Your gental guitar
And the rain on the cars
The sound of the dogs
Claw on the floorboards
Working in the next room
Remembering the tune
Strummed over and over 
You were hiding
Staying sober
The rain on the windows
You lightly hum notes 
We were silent for hours
Those momments were ours 
Hillside again
The air begining to crisp
The fall upon us
And it's you that I miss

And it doesn't hurt 
Like it should
Like I thought it would
Now you're on your own
Have a heart that is full
Time smiles wrinkled with a memory  
Of what you felt like when you did


Screwcap Nights

Screwcap wines were made just for late night walks home from the liquor store

The sidewalks closed so you walk the street
Screwcap wine chenched in your fist
Running your tounge across chapped lips
December numbs the fingertips
You let time slip
And there you meet
On the corner of forever
And never
Fate greets you with a fish hook grin
And asks you for a screwcap sip
You pull up a curb and take a seat
Cross your fingers and tap your feet
A long pull from the bottle then wipes his chin
Fate does his dance and you join in
And down it goes the screwcap nose
Till you're back home
Warm in the bones
And fate, the smile and sigh you met
One screwcap night you won't regret

We've been dancing for some time now

I turn and run from your touch
Not because I don't want it
Oh how I want it 
It's just too much
Too much
And what have I got
Would it be enough 
You could have my love
But of it what?

A year ago
Tiny flowers on your pillow
A plate of food 
Left in you're room
A familar tune
Brought you your shoes

You were whiskey drunk that night
yer head full of sparks
I was hiding flying high
wine lush, cheeks flush
You called me to your side
Turning your face to mine
Met me in the middle 
Rather unprofessional
Planting seeds
And you've come in my dreams
To save me from me 
More times than you'd think
I blame the drink
Just to get some sleep

And i hide mine
Cause if catch your eyes
I'd be lost in them
And I fall hard on
The thought of
Finding home there
In a deep stare
Something familiar
Some love to live for


a one night stand that failed to end

You wake up so early and stir me
And tuck me back in 
Seeing only blurs of your face
If it wasn't for our better judgements 
You'd be just the stranger you are in that momment
I, a girl you don't even know in your bed
Both with fresh eyes for eachother
And warm bodies and art 
Two seperate lives two broken hearts
Paths crossed 
Again and again

Bedtime Story

Once she came down from the ceiling
Hair frayed at the ends
In her eyes a spinning and reeling
Fingers bleeding from the tips

She said she had been talking to strangers
That they had promised her a secret to keep 
An addict of adrenalin and danger
She ignored the dark circles of sleep
and battled the night like the man in the moon quarrling with wolverine

She sprang into step as she fell into bed
Like a feather light on her feet
Teaching fine threads of dreaming strings how to weave lucidly
Humming an ambient melody
With her toes tapping out the beat 
She would sing

Sleep is a stanger I met down a dark alley
A bottle of wine 
Clenched in his fist
swallowing zzz's   
Hoping to catch a glimpse
of black backdrop eyelids
And once you're there 
Waking can be much
Harder than you think

Nemo needs you now
You're on your own sweet dreamer
There's stars enough out there for all
Still you stay locked in your bedchamber 
Tangled in a sheeps disguise
Sweating out your sanity
From the night the sandman stole your eyes 
Flip wakes you morn reality

Nobody wants a nightmare
To be helpless in their own head
Pinned down and paralized
With feet of lead
You could run to nowheres end
And never have left

And sleep is a begger I met down a dark alley
A backhanded bet and a coin flip
An albotross a thought lost
The dream you dream to forget
And the ceiling is higher then you recall 
The lights won't turn on or off
Youre running from yourself
Just to wake up with yourself
So make the most of what you can get

you and your sad song

Been waking up with Buckley 
Rollin round my head like a hangover
Been wicked in the bones 
Broken fever stones
Been feelin more like leftover
Each city day and fog here 
Tired bolder, growin older
Then I have in years

Been waking up with Buckley
Lyrics bouncin off my brain
Screaming like an engine
Singin about downin again
Been reliving all these stories
Never to be told
Been limping into morning
And longing for the road

One that leaves me on your doorstep
And wraps me in your arms
One that begins in sunsets
That we can share as ours

One that takes me far from here
And closer to my heart
One to make me face the fears
That worm their way throughout my thoughts

Been waking up with Buckley
And a ringing in my ear
Pulling myself out of a hat
If that hasn't been yet made clear
Been wonderin what time of day
You wake up on your coast
And if you put the coffee on
Before or after your first smoke  

I've been waking up to Buckley
Wailing lonely in the corner of the room
Dreaming of the day when instead I'll be waking up to you