Monday, December 27, 2010


Wrinkled pleasure
tissue dry
lunar meadow
tired eye
headless horses
horseless race
silent novel
crawling pace
mountain fancy
sunrise night
forest flatland
skyless flight
shadow beaming
hidden bone
rusty glimmer
water stone
crooked eyelash
smile scar
palm confession
whisper far
table prison
statue pale
bookshelf safety
mantle jail
honest fire
castle cold
halls remember

the king and queen
are old

The Theory

His soul swims in a thimble as
our eyelashes collect dust and
you write the history of God
backwards in a notebook
addressed to
the past, a hotel room
that doesn't yet exist

The moment of conception
was loud and

Heavy Tongue Heavy Feeling

Clap the sun to keep secret handshakes hidden deep
Plan perfection in the rundown to the lake
Rivers seep like eyelids at 3 am

Drink blushing honesty like butterscotch schnapps
Wrinkled smiling moments delight
Fingers intertwine like spiderwebs tangle

Puddles of us take form each morning upon waking
I remember my solidity and you never catch the otherwise
Because you were dreaming with me

Days of days within night times of decades
Boxes of time containing nothing but everything
Everything is stardust, even the nothing

Confusion is a game we play
Because knowing becomes tiresome
Our truths need rest

Questions are dialogues with heart shaped rooms
My chest contains a child
My gut its sister

I suppose this is gravity.

Monday, December 20, 2010

Don't worry, I'm not thinking what you're thinking I'm thinking

An open letter to my brothers and sisters,
to my better others and worser lovers,
to those I've scorned and those who born
will someday feel my kindness
An open letter to mom
and dad
to the greatest bad that ever could be
waiting, waiting, like a sharp toothed shadow
for me
To every girl I ever kissed, later pissed off
but wished I could fix
And maybe it's too late now,
it is late,

So maybe I should sleep
I should climb deep deep within the sheets
and dream of peace like war has never been
like my heart's never seen

The only hate I know, is a loving kind of hate
Those who never meant anything
could never bring it out in me

And I wish that for once, finally
they'd get that and
give me
a break

I hate honestly,

Saturday, December 18, 2010


My mouth is dirty, laugh
Such an angry mob of teeth, a
throbbing muscle ache of
need need need hate hate and
my intentions are literally the
utmost good but
nobody trusts and
nobody knows each other
right (?) so
I don't want to
I don't want to
Imagine that I'm wrong
I'll just keep singing this
song of stomach hate this
song of clenching fists.

It's time to drop the bombs.

The Heaviest Gut

To convulsing trees, blue wind and
rubber bullet bees
that sting the night and
to the blackened light
all bruised and smiling,
to the baby boy
all bruised and smiling,
to the grass, green and garbage,
to the truth that's bigger than large and
to the lie that's bigger than large and to
my mother mother
mother mother

Tuesday, December 14, 2010


I am convinced that I am self aware enough,
see enough of the big picture
to map a complete flow chart of my pathology.

But then a voice speaks with disdain, or maybe
just sobriety,
Pal, the moment of absolute certainty,
is usually the moment that confirms
you've lost reality.

Because Knowing
is usually too good to be true.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010


I fell deep, so
deeply in love
in a Walmart
parking lot.

Life happens everywhere if you let it.

You should have seen the clouds...

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Your Anchor, Your Fingers and Toes

On the day you
wake to find
gravity has failed you

You'll panic but
as your feet leave
the ground and
you draw close to
outer space you'll

Find so many hooks
we've put in place
they're running along
the hem of your
dress they're trailing
strings that are
tied to our fingers and

Because we'll never
let you go.

We'd never let
you go.


"I'm just a boat on the ocean,
I'm just a ship lost at sea"

Right - And if you are, I understand.

But while the ship rises and falls so violently,
with every crashing wave
its Anchor rests peacefully

While on the surface, the ship is in distress,
it must know there is safety in the depths.

And we are the depths.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Sometimes, Often, KNOWING Feels Like Needing To Throw Up

If I have this stomach,
I trust it, sort of,
and I know I'm stubborn and
you want to hit hit kick me hurt me
but I know you feel i KNOW
you feel and
I know how your skin's
electric despite hiding hiding hiding.

So we've come sofar and
maybe we've lostsight of
what it meansyeah maybe it
then fine


Meaninglessly I know you.

These words aren't beautiful but
they're my skin's electric.

I just need to do SOMETHING.