the color of absolute nude
late afternoon light
the buildings out of their skin

for your faces

she still waits

...and one by one,
they filter in
each on their own journey

...and to see them bright
back in her life
the simple beauty of moments only

...and as they come
on their own time
she smiles wide to greet them

for each one holds
a piece of her heart
those travelers
both brave and bold
that have come so far
to glimpse her shore
to share their lives
and smiles alike
to keep the wander
and lust alive

come filter in
you're all welcome
...so still she waits

a night not so enormous
narrow as a voice
with little intent
light enough
for the right wind to handle

We are seldom a distance,
though for days we have swallowed spaces
reached lengths with our breast and
seen our heaven persevere

We touch our caution like a brittle saint
breathe slow
adore the raiment
about our slender bones

words get full and burst
sunlight levels you
summer stumbles over you
your pages ache
there are names
you make
there are days you ache for pages

"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

-from Hamlet

we ride trains

we ride trains
no destinations, schedules
only journey, discovery



and i wake up,
wrapped up in your arms
to the hum of the train
in comfort
we're still along for the ride

nothing left but weather
and everything else

finished with beginnings,
gift of reds,
the ancient pain of folds

my bleating flock of wants has stopped
nothing left but weather
and my strange weight

I would hear myself
My big dignity
I deserve wistfulness

But in late spring I resemble
Rot and sheen
Service and a strong occasional color

I am ornamental
Wrapped in wool and exhaustion
Sustenance and self defense

misfed malice

all this
all this
all this
loss

offer
offer
offer
offer

come find me
i don't know where to start

Why Men go Mad

The full moon

It will pull at the tides of your mind, AND at the responsive bodies of every woman exposed to enough of its milky light. You can sense it and you can smell them. You should remember the moon when you’re robbing liquor stores or writing poetry or dancing wildly for reasons you don’t understand. Know that cycles are ending and beginning tonight! That your frenzy is caused by gravity and biology! Know that this feeling is just low tide and wanting madly every woman in the world all at once. This is Romance! This is Science! But it is just the moon.

tossed into daylight,
my pavement scrapes gone blonde,
walking
your soft wall behind me all day long.

when the records stop playin'

wine bottles and cigarette packs
empty,
placed, and scattered
on the glass table
untouched
for weeks,
dust
collected
on the surface


she lies
on the couch
in the dark corner of the room
searching
for the light
that shines, awkwardly
through each bottle

unfortunately
moonlight
has a way
of washing flaws from you
leavin perfect silhouette memory

and i remember u in moonlight
frozen

theres a field unfindable
now out west
in dreams

and the grass tall
trembles slightly
and the lightnin bugs
flicker

their light hittin eyes like
memory or pain or beauty

and the moon shines on it at night
and its flaws get washed away

yr light hittin my eyes
like memory or pain or beauty

all the stimuli of this worls
all the stimuli of this world
all the stimuli of this world

no one dies, makes love, or ages

-triggering towns

allen caught walt all ragged and romance
wandering through produce

today
i saw you jack
wearing that crumby hat of desolation
in a walmart
in the slow hands
of misery cashiers
and the stoned eyes
of everyone impatient
and witing
in line

and in all those awkward spaces
between clothing racks
and the floor and the ceiling
in all that wide open and white

nothing like those spaces rolling and infinite
in the west above and between yr winding roads

all those mussed haired girls
perfect in one frozen moment
of light and shadow and bedsheets
that never caught up to the concrete
of tomorro

will always be
unchanging eternal
as marble or folklore

a frozen flame
of a star
burning in the perfect night

through all these days
all the ways
the light affects them subtle and infinite
all the eyes wet with life
and lips glimmerin below em
and the streetcorners all damp and accentuated
with perfect lamposts
all the curves and sharp angles
of women and towns and events and automobiles
those countless plunges the sun takes into a sea
that never boils

i have never seen anything
with more romance, more tempting
than the tragic flaw

boulder
coffe shop
a black clad couple
she
places a piece of muffin
in his mouth
slightly moving
the end
of her trenchcoat
across the floor


these are storms
the way air
from the great frigid terrifying
north west
wrestles stop signs
and the metal sound
rings out

the houses making noises like women