the ones that hurt the most
are the ones that deny themselves
the truth
the only truth
of who they really are
of what we all really are

still and present

pardon please
my obscenities
but here's a mind i have
and i'll speak it free
so FUCK the job I'll wake up for
and pray for the dream
i buried deep in sleep the night before

i stopped aiming for the ashtray
smoking only where you can't see
smiling cause i've learned too well
how you choose what to see in me

I'm the ugly rape through broken window pains
I'm the light that leaves you blind,
the one you see in stars above
I've only the hope you'll live to find
the one beyond yourself

yes I will suck you dry
yes i will appease
yes you think you'll come to believe
in what you think is best for me
but know
oh know
i know what's me
I know what right from wrong
I know the song sung by butterflies wing
I know where I belong

so take that cage
you were taught to create
around yourself
and splinter in in rage
next time you aim blame my way
throw yourself off heights unsafe
and slam a smidgen of life back into
the hole you call your self

cause life is wicked RAW you see
and the ones that know of TRUE beauty
can acknowledge ALL from A to Z
and lead no one into the deep
lies of blind security

be the animal
always
release

that's the only way I'll see you
It's in that light I will not leave you

so yummy

Sometimes
all you NEED in life
is a late late night
tuna melt
burnt
in your belly
no questions asked
no aftermath
other than
head to pillow
simple
contact
and shitty
mourning after
fish breath
fuck off
wake up
sloppy-satisfied
with a smile
some drool
and a lot
to look forward to

I, do.

I will never forget those who wander tormented...
I will aways HOPE for an eye lit with child-like wonderment
I will see the best in everyone always
I will never doubt the truth of heart
I will always forgive
I will aim for betterment
I will believe in the tenderness of your touch
I will love you always
even after it's too much...

I will love you always.

all i can be
is me
whether it be good enough
for you
your standards
your idea
of the perfect
perfection
all i can be is me
all i can hope to be
is better then
ideal society
mediocrity
the standard
drone or clone
alone
I stand
me
free
always....

Terse gems
Stern,
Like a wedge

woman in the kitchen (revision)

her body hovers over
the sink full of dishes
hands red and raw,
saturated in soapy water
gray hairs fall on her face,
covering her tired eyes
and the apron drapes
over her body
just bearly revealing her
slow swayin' hips
movin' to the soft sounds of
motown
playin' in the background

Summer is an insult.

My hand grave
with drowning,
I am western
and disregard all
that is fleshless

I could rest.
In solemn grass I
take heaven and don
the shape of centuries,
a seamless mystery

I am foreign

autumn curls the spirit
leaves us squirming infants
crying for beginnings

Honey bees are swarming through the open windows
and as one would SWAT and FUMBLE,
i alone and humble, have patience enough
not to get stung

a red sun inside a mother
buttons awaiting love

present and not present
faceless
my city is falling
my reds are asleep

fall.
my hands full of drinks
and other things
you fill hands with

we move on

the days bleed into
weeks, months,
a year

walls bare, covered with art, bare again

we box up the art, memories, emotion
place it aside
make space
and find new walls to cover

a job transfer would be nice...

daily routine,
weight of stress,
headaches,
the need to break

"Some things see by not having eyes. It works better that way."

Ryan, age 6

"Earth is heaven, whether heaven is heaven or not."

Emily Dickinson

"There is no salvation, I think, for most,
but every system is subverted by someone, someone
breaks through, becomes what he wanted to be."

Eugenio Montale

elect perpetuals
onslaught of cold requires
wise mechanics
constants
ferocity

To Superman On His Death Bed

I could hear the sirens
and it felt cold
like coming home
to a neighborhood
that isn't yours anymore
as you layed silent
in the next room
and I knew this was it for you

and I'd like to believe
that you're going on to
a better place
a happy hunting ground
welcomed
with open arms
by loved ones
wearing white linens

and maybe that is what
I believe
but this world
here now for you
is just silent pain
I couldn't believe
the shell of a man
you'd become

and I realized then
as you bit your lip
grimacing at
everything
aching and
burning and
tearing and
breaking
and miserable
that death is
a freight train with
no fucking brakes

I was looking at my future
destined for greath things
like you I think
but doomed by
my own indulgences
and bad habits

but maybe we're the stronger
accepting our fate in death
or maybe
we're the foolish ones
believing
in strong genetic coding
and bullshit
and nonsense
and poetry
and love

the only thing certain
in life
is death

so I say

Godspeed

there is a certain amount



of legend making



and story telling



that goes into



speaking of the dead

White Light/White Heat

my eyes are made to refract light
and see the street in red -
movement and the friction of souls on pavement;
the sky syrupy orange -
as the wind tastes cooler
and cooler, as gravity bends the day towards night;
tender yellow silk burning under the
morning's lens;
green tinted bottles view;
swiming and drowning in waters
deep blue;
and the sounds of the next days light
in indigo and violet;

these moments get into my DNA.
i hope you can see it through me
i hope you can see it through me

Gold in the Moment

gold in the bedsheets
and I'm chasing it
perfect heist
gold in the night stillness
gold in the end of it
street lamp widow hits a bad chord
I can see why she chose it
gold in the sacrifice
beat box junkies
beg for smokes on the ball court
gold in the charity
gold in the freedom
a bottle that doesn't brake
clinking echo from a block away
fading into the windy drop off
gold in the moment

On the Chin

she's got that hot thickness
in every place she needs it
everywhere I need it
she's got that hot soul
I'm on my knees
I'm leaning on the wall
so she can't tell
my surprise escaped
when she got too close
and she could hear me
"come here, girl."
so I lost the chance
when I lost the high ground

2006 - Somewhere Near The Beginning Of The "End"

This is the back story for the character, Mark McDell, from the other story: The End and After. This is set about 6 years before the catastrophic events that are referenced in The End and After. I wanted to try and give the character his own life, his own history, so that I could better understand him. I also wanted to do some foreshadowing, which is exactly what the dream sequence is. Basically, the beginning of this story will also be the end of The End and After. It's still a work in progress, but I wanted to get it up here and see if I could get any feedback. Enjoy.

The forest was thick, but the sound of a train was close. I just couldn't see where it was coming from. It felt like something was chasing me, so I had to move quickly. I ran into the the thickest part of the brush until I could hardly move. I spotted an opening to my right, something thrashing the thickets of branches and undergrowth right behind me. I popped out of the opening and turned right, thinking I could double back on whatever it was that had been chasing me. I was met by something that resembled a man but stood 8 feet tall. I knew it was too late as my forward momentum ran right into the sideways swing of his axe-butt into my temple. The ringing in my ears was incredible and everything just went white.

The ringing continued, incessantly, as I opened my eyes and found myself in bed. I hit the "snooze" button on the alarm clock and the rining stopped instantly. I was having these dreams more and more often. They were always different, but something seemed the same, and they felt so real. I laid there for a few minutes and let myself really wake up before getting up and ready for work.

I had settled down in New Jersey after doing some traveling. Not really traveling, I guess. It was more like running. I had left my home in California, a great job, a great woman, everything. Patty wanted to get married and everything was going well. Maybe that's exactly what went wrong. So, without a word or a second thought, I jumped in my car and spent the next year or so traversing the country. I finally found myself living in Ocean Gate. Found a job doing security at a nuclear power plant and lived a quiet life alone in a lonely beach town. It was a welcomed change to the life I was living in San Diego. I didn't really need to work, I was a trust fund kid and had made a killing in real estate development. Me, Patty, our kids if we ever had any and our grandkids would probably all be able to live off the money I had made.

But here I was, living in New Jersey, alone, working a real "man's" job...

woke up gasping
to the realization of death
saw myself lieing
alone in a bed
somewhere in the night
memories
of a life I haven't lived yet
rushing in like a panicked nurse
and the thought
that I didn't live enough
sneaking in ever so slowly

I laid there worried
about that day so far away
worried about my mother
fearing the darkness
because I know she worries

worried about not accepting it
when it comes

it's like that dark force
was sitting in the room
with me last night
in my bed

and although I'm still worried
for my mother's worries
I know I'll accept it
when it comes

reach out and
grab onto that icy hand

I'll be ready for you when you come

night brings phantom limbs
phantom miracles
morning limps

stubborn

I was tangled in

strings of reasons-

each knotted tight

making it hard for her 

to reach out to me;

to unbind me

shards of day and glaring
flash of grass

a purpose so obscure
devotion comes

I don't like
looking you in the eye
it's like the silence is broken
in that second
in that moment
and something in me gets scared
it's like
something in your eyes
breaks my heart

the morning breaks my heart
everytime
the way it
breaks slowly over clouds
or mountains
or oceans
and runs spears of sunlight
through the night
the way it
leaves the moon
like a memory
like a ghost

peel back speech
beneath pleas, passion -

beneath passion,
ashes, circumstance -

such white ascent
gleaming sea collects its breath
summer's drum paused for us
our hands and feet in the earth
like a winter, resting

if a butterfly should

land upon my head

as a mark of good luck

I would surely crumble

Song III

yeah
love gives you those
butterflies

but any man
whose been out to sea
can tell you

after awhile
that feeling
starts making you sick

lately, I'm wanting to be
a speck on the horizon
leaving all of you
in the dust kicked up
from dirty boots

but the thing about horizons is
that no matter how far you go
there always is one

you're always
right here
right now

you're always right
here right now

you're
always
right
here
right
now



you're never the speck
and you're never
the horizon

you're more like the dust
kicked up
from dirty boots

there's so much sky
and I can't watch all of it
with so many constellations
and clusters
nebulas and stars
I get confused

and you ask me if
I ever wonder
are we seeing the same
sides of the moon?

but how would I know?
I twist and bend to see
the shape of Orion's belt
but none of it
makes any sense

I'll call you
to tell you about meteor showers
and the lunar eclipse
'cause those are things
that we both can't miss

and they awaken
that little boy
that's still in me
dreaming of space

and in the morning
he's still with me

other times I'll call you
just to say hello
or I'll tell you all about
cloud formations
or movies
or bars

or about finding myself
bending and twisting under the stars
to see if I can see
beyond the horizon

or about that dream
the one where we're laying in bed
and a truck pulls into the driveway
it's headlights hitting the mirror
in my bedroom
as you begin to pack

she canceled his name from her memory.
taken, she was spent.
foreclosed, but not perplexed.

the heat of our homes behind us,
we shovel ourselves into streets
our graves ask for us

O we who sing of the sea
but are fearful of the water
we will swim with the sharks
at the end of eternity

O we who dream of the great sky
but can't look down
we will break heaven open
with the heat from our wings

O we who sing of death
but wake up gasping in fear
we will fight and we will die
we will become the earth

It Don't Die

rock n' roll can
save you and
it can kill ya' too

it can destroy
that sour taste
or make a memory
sting like hell

rock n' roll can
drive you
down the roads
of every america

it can kill
your brain in
flash floods
of nostalgia

rock n' roll can

rock n' roll can

Song II

there's somethin' romantic
'bout a train
about the tracks
and the sound it makes

as it steadily passes
heading for another place

there's somethin' great
'bout the trees
swayin' softly in moonlight

on a dusty
dimly lit road
on my way to nowhere

there's somethin' that stings
in the smell
of last winter

and the blurred
bar room memories
of a girls arms
inside my coat
tryin' to find warmth

like warmth could ever
take the place
of a heart

no, i think i meant to say poop

look what became of what its becoming, im so damn out of place in this overcoat
jungles and cities and little green men and women, if you can differenciate....theres a spot where the truth meets what you know and the in between feels like stagnant brackish funk water you'd find in the pine barrens, or in glasses at old greek diners where the waitress is always named flo or inga and has a pen in her hair and nicotine stains on here fingers...where was this going?... oh yeah, im not this angry cynical and mean because they didnt love me enough or because they loved me too much...i think alot of it can totally be blamed on the idea that the told me up was down and back was front and that has a tremendous effect on how you get dressed in the morning not to mention the fact that people are so hard to get out of once you get into them, but alot of folks forget that and dimiss the idea as being childish and ill thought out when really blah blah blah im rambling again..the best moment of 1983 was the one where i came out of another person...face up i might add. i think the point that im trying to make is....get out of my kitchen with all that soup...im either allergic or you can't cook and from a hungry perspective i dont want any of you fucking up my spice rack.

shave the important parts
under the cholora
she promised to meet him
at 7 and change

down the refinery
swallowing pills
got a fetish for impulse
and crisp dollar bills
she slaughters the moon
a wreckless disaster
holding my throat in pristine plastic hands

dust isnt sure
but the remenents lay beautiful
scattered pale memories
asking to dance

memoirs of an intangable man

i'd be lying if i said i didnt scour old haunts
for a glimpse of a ghost from a time well wasted
still i'm lying when i say that i've had better
one tuesday a thousand miles west of the middle

take it darling
im not a good man
take it easy
and get all that you can
look for flashes
of almost concern
in the fog the eyes always decieve

so watch it lick the night sky
watch them build over memories
i'll not be the one to regret little things
build a wall
and i'll spray paint my name in the cracks
im not a good man
but im damn good at it

yeah its vomit but i cooked so i’m not doing the dishes

i'm always smiling
devouring my insides
it doesnt seem to have a motherfucking off switch
im always swallowing the cancer
with a diet coke
i've got my figure to consider

all the poison in the world is mine
i'll dole it out as i see fit
dont beg for more
just come and take it

i'll be sitting on the porch
reading better homes and gardens
jerking off in a rocking chair
shot gun in teeth
with my wool socks rolled to my knees in august

thinking

i didnt do it for you
i found a rotten piece and stored it in my special pocket
are you proud of me ma
are you proud of me dad
your faggot son of a bitch
isn't laughing anymore

is it broken stolen robbed and raped
is it lost is it ugly is it swollen
does it taste like me?

sexual pleats

so im a little bigger and better than you
shes a liar and a thief and a part time crackfiend
don't worry and if i cant defend it
i just fucked your parents and set your clothes on fire


OH, she loves it
OH, i cant wait
NO, i didnt
find it funny when you smelled my brothers cock

im preganant and shes feeds me lemon pledge
takes me dancing in the lightning she pretends
shes a widow and can hold my place
a while
with a finger in my ass and a plastic smile

OH she loves it
OH i cant wait
NO i didnt
find it funny when you sucked my brothers cock

what the fuck arent you trying to say

no i dont mind
this sort of thing
the silent
sewage treatment
anti-love machine
just meet me in
the hosptial
for drinks then onto bigger things
dressed up in all
that foil fadded
denim milky after taste
you never once
complained i thought
thats how you
got over these things

so fuck me up
destroy whats left
i dont need blood or skin or breath
i dont need sun or food or hope
just cut away
just cut away
so i dont
have to fucking think about you

tastes alot
like
i could scream
if not for all
the useless
words stuck in my mouth
staple my name across your chest
and kill your family and pets
keep tabs on things here
watch the show
were better off in stereo
we're wasting time
whats you is mine
whats i am always out of breath

so fuck me up
destroy whats left
i don't need blood or skin or breath
i dont need sun or food or hope
just cut away i'll follow suit
and dig me up when
you
can
feel
this
too

I see a red line on the horizon
I feel trouble rumbling the ground
there's a ghost on the road where we're riding
I can feel him running us down

There's a black line on the horizon
running straight through to the sacred ground
ramming into the feelings I'm hiding
with the sting of an organ sound

I saw a silver line on the horizon
you dropped the answers down on the ground
making sense of a life I was devising
and the failure to which I'm bound

There's a red line on the horizon
the water's rising and soon I'll drown
in the loss of the things I was finding
and the loss of the things that you found

I'm a Dumbass and I Just Can't Help It (Stop Me, Stop Me, Please!)

It's like every time

I walk away from something

and forget about it

or not forget about it

but ignore it

somehow

something

someone

brings itself back

and plants itself

firmly

with tree like roots

right in the middle of my life



I'm such a fucking pushover

Song I

we're only four days away

I'm not sure if you're counting

six years in the making
and I got my heart set on coming
to see a California sun
kiss your skin

six years in the making
and I'm still a believer
or just a fool

we're only four days away

I'm counting
I've been counting

we're only four days away
from six years
of a romance
that's been everywhere
and nowhere at all

You (again)

when I was young
I always thought
there were castles in the clouds

that you could jump
from one to
the other

I thought that
Heaven
was right there
just out of reach

I believed
that I could save myself
if falling from the sky
by aiming for
that fluffy
white mass

and thunder
was just angels bowling
lightning was
the re-rack

and someone was always
always
bowling a 300

now I realize
You
are heaven just out of reach

You
are bowling a perfect game

but I'm not sure
you will
save me
if I'm falling from the sky

September 1st

the uncertainty
of my next address
oddly excites me.

I was bitter, she was cold.

you blew cigarette smoke
into my eyes
as i colored pretty pictures.

it stung.

yet, you would always hold
my hand tightly in the supermarket
(i tried so hard to break free).


the mist on the window blurs
my view of you today
and i can't let you in from the cold.

though i am ill,
my shoes full of wind,
it is summer wind
and i am well

let's ask for more
than a little silver left
at the bottoms of our days

Razor

Guest poem by Kathy Polenberg

for anything sharper than sweetgrass

she's present corn he picks her planecrash tears moreover
he don't nezzle when she's dishoveled wintercold
lapis in a leap year

the lion and they both good at tailgate party
eat major serius minor canines kiss
at a nebula hung off hunters belt
loop in his lap under the summer
horizon is as fast as a rabbit
and she finally did become
that kind of a game where he leans italicized still
life a question
mark her ecliptic candy cane

at the customers request

just keep on believing that its gonna get better, its a wide wide world of wacky sports and i can't seem to find the fucking rule book theres fellers dancing and fellers kissing theres a feller in high heeled shoes wearin pantyhose and i feel comfortable knowing that i kinda found the kinda folks i can relate to, unfortunately they dont have the right kinda of equipment to keep my interest beyond parties and conversation, but they know how to dress and how to have fun so i guess its a good thing i stumbled into that bar at 11 oclock on a saturday. no worries, i;m still quite interested in the ways of explosive behavior and come to think of it, the mad ones always had a place in my heart, cause well, we can smell our own..i don't know what the hell you are but i like not knowing until we stumble into a bathroom stall and explore the idea that i may have found the perfect woman, who just so happens to have a penis...what the hell are you talking about

a worn robe of reassurances
days they tell me don't exist
days prior to, between this

and this
they are grave
they have gravity

they are days
they are days
they are days

we knit machines
make empty pages
a play of fake rains

and real ones

This Dream

the power of your mind
can make night into day
break down walls
move mountains

the will of your soul
can dry up oceans
turn the Sun to ice
fuel the world with love

become your own God
take control of this life
you don't know where
you'll end up in the next
take it all now
'cause you don't know when
you'll wake up

Smoke Viewed from Three Thousand Miles West

I'm thinkin' that if
I set this state on fire
I could write your name across the sky
and that'd be big enough
to show you just how much
I'd like to have you here

Good Night

reach out into the night
find something to hold on to
be a witness to your own miracle
breathe dreams
be damned
dance with the wicked

reach out into the night
find its heart and squeeze
become God
cast down your enemies
take fate by the throat
leave destiny in your wake

reach out into the night
don't fear the hand
reaching back
hold on to it tight

the same hands that birthed you
in your first moments
will hold you
in your final hour

good
night

Tonight...

tonight smells like fire
and somehow
I can feel you in the air here
and the sky is clear enough
to belive in heaven
and hell
and love

This Year is Ours

we can dance in graveyards
on mountaintops
run through lightning fields
tear fruit down from orchard trees
write our own history
make this year
and every other
belong to us

we could walk bridges
discover roads
towns cities
claim oceans
and patches of sky

lets put some miles on this life
before it runs out
and doesn't belong to us

ah ha!
so this is where it leads
where it bleeds
my wild dry eyes
can see nothing
but if i could fucking close them
if
cock
COCK
cock
if I was broken
would you put me in the dumpster?
I'd hate to be left on the curb
I'D HATE IT

your doorstep scoffs
the day halved
the wind in pieces

contemplation

I don't know which is worse-
living in a spacious, empty apartment
or riding in crowded elevators

windows
like cards on a table
artfully arranged,
a child's game i remember
and don't remember

ranting lamplight devours your dark,
pounds nails from your door

seasons speak of other seasons
tender earths
younger despair

a hand of supple sophistry
breaks and keeps

the time of indicative grass,
summer may illuminate,

but it is jaggedly ill,
lying and possessing,

an ominous artisan

a lover of havens,
i feign delight and welcome absurdity

a sovereign window,
a rapid residence of air

my beige rooms choke and perish
like indicative birds, i have breaths

here i am, a mighty girl in a bird
am i bashful?

ill am i who notice the remorse
worse than a summer

a convenient temple,
the house breathes in and out
blood resounds

a cavernous tower,
the throat offers and accepts
mass affection

earthly birds,
the arms cast mountainous shadow
impossible blue

Thought apotheosis would like this one......

"Finally, in the last year of her age,
Having attained a present blessedness,
She said poetry and apotheosis are one."

-from "A Pastoral Nun," Wallace Stevens

Standing On A New Earth

I'm feeling unwasteful

I don't want to babble on and on and on

I want to make a world outside of ego

Not gearing for fearing

Just alerting awareness

To becoming awake

To the idea of the existence of fears

In order for them to become amenable

To dissipation

Via vocal statements and

Change in Action

Living through each momentary breath

As if another might arrive

With the immediate urgency of time

Jack again in the Lower Haight

Jack,

you are here
in this dark bar
with me
while the Dead spin about us
in ghostly wisps of memory
and we are drinking wine
you and i
and the hardwood echoes
while four generations of hippies
tango tulips and daisy chains
and Jack you are here
whispering in my ear
about moving and shaking
and all the ways
everything makes poetry
always

you are here

Such is a day
where worry fades with the fog
and remembering you
doesn't hurt so much

living the dream

he watches porn while he smokes pot
he dances
a lot
to his own tune
in his living room
he goes big on the weekends
and smiles like he means it
he's ADD
and oh so sweet
and sporty
and horny
and careful with money
and drunk on loving
he's a coupon clipper
an under cover hippie
he can lose his temper
but always strives to be better
so true and intuitive
and rightly conservative
he deals with allergies
and clean packaging
he's a coconutter
and peanut butter
and the most passionate lover
i have ever...

he's the only one who knows whats on MY mind
he's the brightest star in my life

he shines

I'd like to take one moment
and stretch it out forever
like an event horizon

living on the edge of a black hole
within that moment

the curtains blowing in the wind
stuck flowing horizontally
in my bedroom
as we sleep entwined
within the glowing
of a summer lightning flash
one note playing continuously
static on my FM radio

no fear of an alarm clock
no fear of interruption
no fear of ever leaving my bed

I've been writing about the same woman for nearly six years...

I remember you
the way you
cracked your back
first thing in the morning
sitting up
twisting around in the sheets
as I opened my eyes
and you would

squeak

and yawn

and stretch

than you'd curl up in my arms
and we'd begin
our last day again

Getting the Point

It was a night you were sure
you smelled something burning
every where you went
the sky still with no clouds
thick swampy heat
popping up off the asphalt
and we were in this jungle
sand poisoning our clothes
drinking
smoking
thinking about sex
he was dropping pills
he liked that kinda loose
I'm on a whiskey tequila excursion
with my favorite jeans
the ones I never wash
and every one worries
but us
not us
with a live bootleg record
coming through the car stereo
burping up beer suds
with menthol chaser
our only worry
is to live past thirty

He's out there
and I don't know where
and that's fucked
some one keeps shouting,"father"
in my head
some one keeps pretending
they believe I'll listen
but I'm probably drunk
like last time
when all the sense
all the sharp counter points
only bounced down the empty hallway
that used to be a young man's emotion

Chuck Drank Alone

All you people
wanna do
is sit around talkin'
'bout obscure music
or micro brews
or hole in the wall thrift shops

and while
I like my Dead Guy Ale best
when listening to the Afternoon Naps
wearing my favorite
little league t-shirt

I'm kind of tired
of being so cool
and I'm likin' it more
when I'm drinkin' alone

Route 37 Westbound 6:30pm July 9, 2008

the timing
of a bird in flight
is awe inspiring
as it torpedoes itself
through four lanes of traffic
and comes out on the othe side
untouched

Don't Try

there we were again
two old friends
I've known you
since I was fourteen

you were talking
about the rooming house
and your typewriters
and I could feel
all of your pride
and your love
for the machine

not just the typewriter
but for the collective machine
and then you showed me
some of your poems

I caught you falling in love with me
at the red light
right by our headquarters

you smiled and waved
while I played it straight
until I felt my face smile
and I was forced to laugh

Because I'm really not interested
but it helps my confidence
and I find that hilarious

I told her
she was beautiful
just the way she was
no boob jobs
no make overs
she was perfect
stranding there
drunk and smiling
'cause ya can't
cause problems
in your own house

and she told me
thank you
for such
kind words stranger

but I think
I was lieing through my teeth

and I hope
she finds someone
out there who really
really loves her

people
always define insanity as

repeating the same action and
expecting different results

they always define
it like that
every time

always to people
they are hoping to fix

and these people
never get fixed

any of the times

marks right sometimes

i want poetry to stop being honest
and start being a little beautiful
i need it to be
like my memory of women
forgetting love handles and bad manners
and remembering

perfect 6 am light
falling heavy and holy
on the parabolic curves
of a naked torso

i need it to be
like children
angelic when it cries

i need it to hold
every strong emotion and scent
with force
as sunrise
and prayer

thewse nights
i drive home
bathed in brakelights
and paralyzed
by thoughts of women
with their wispy hair
obscuring one eye

around the city
around the city
over these bridges
with howling metal
and forever shadows
under planes
massive
and wanting to be wished upon
all these people as pieces
moving and throbbing
and crying
in the traffic
of this earth
praying in some sort of moving
zazen

these nights
around this city
sparkling

she advises us
to listen to
tupac
about women
and theft
all the while
quoting him
in a rhythym
that
reminds
of ancestral
drums
and days
before
language

we live
days between bridges
with their span
and their steel
and the way they sit
on horizons ahead and behind

we live
days between bridges
thinkin of the waters they crossed
turbulent or rushing or stinging cold to the bone

we live
days between bridges
in their shadows
listenin to waters below
with our choices

it's an old one
may '06


amongst
blooming flowers and falling leaves
You,
once blended-in colors of a sunrise
becomes the light of my desire
and I,
your dark-haired infatuation
slowly fade into shadows of night

yr face caked in make up
and teeth glistening from
the house lights,
clenched over this
moment's cigarette, and
laughing at explosions
in the distance

I can see your eyes tear
from the wind
running down the coast
the edge
cutting at you
and the needle pinned

and in the end it all seemed
so tragic, you as poor doomed
Ophelia, drowning in grief
over an American dream
gone mad

remember when we drank our rooms black
leveled love into something we could swallow
lips to the faucet now,
i bathe

light glitches
the planet snags
earth gives and does not give

acid hands solemn upon
black scabs
promise, a chanting wind
a cool well of reds
barely stirred

"...speech is not dirty silence
Clarified. It is silence made still dirtier."


-Wallace Stevens