Monday, June 28, 2010


i've been in a pretty gross summer slump. i'm putting novel writing on the backburner for now and trying to do smaller stuff, which is getting pretty lazy and forced if you ask me. i say this because i'm looking at the past few posts and they're kind of ehh.

this is my slumpy face for now:

i'll be back soon.

free of that.

in prison they chop the onions the same way,
cut the peppers down the sides and into pieces.

they hum these burtonesque tunes and
say things like cool and come.

they don't seem to think anymore because
they've frozen away their sensations,

jailed them up with the packaged chicken
and the chilled beers wine whatever.

they take you to supermarkets at night
singing playing loudly fun song fun song

then you spit out the stick from the ice cream bar
on a porch with an old man, tells you look at the stars

but you can't see anything
and you can't be calm.






Sunday, June 27, 2010

tick tock tick tick tock.

silence, my head rests silent on your curving arms nothing we need to say now, warm sun my friend the sun wraps her fingers into ours nudges her head between our necks will will will will shake away the noises a black sleepy caterpillar lazed across the round mountain of your closed eye he extends his legs so long i am not cold i am not cold because you cover me with sweet smoke pressure breath fire burning through your ivory cigarettes as quickly as we burn through this life like comets like rockets all dust and sun my soul asks my heart what it means to be alive and my heart says this.


unsure of anything anymore listening
to the heat lift from the floor
she went out to buy a bible
and studied the word with her
shakespeare doll
hands sprawled against the wall
what words are here,
what words
and her body ached
knowing it would bleed

Thursday, June 3, 2010

lonely as humans.

I am tightropewalking on your vocal chords
because you like the feel of my weight on your words.
And you will drive yourself around the world
with the weight of my words in your pocket
and you will call me when you are lonely
and I will answer when I am lonely
but our loneliness will not be reconciled
because we are alone as humans
and, too cautious to sleep,
there are initials and a lady's name
stamped at the end of our treaty.


moustached man pulling weeds in my
family tree.
oh, but we share the same palms
that dig in the dirt;
the same feet that can walk us
to the same place
while our hearts and minds are switched;
the same eyes that see different futures.
clean yourself up now and stop laughing
because if you just ask to
enter my home
i may let you.

for you.

I will be something distant --
a child blowing out birthday candles
in the back of your mind,
all the pretty memories that surround the dark.
I will be your new silent home
of things you don't need
too many words on the wall
no food in the kitchen
and one day you'll wake up from
my ornate bed,
forsake the hands holding you back,
and drown yourself
in another dimension.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010


I'm breaking out in hymn meter
     to the tune of your trumpet.
A good old Emily chorus
     to your belligerent you hex.


Next year, you and I, stuffy bear, we'll be in the
Promise Land.
What's that, you've punched out your own eyes?
Now your snowy head is blind.
Your mouth is sewn up, too?
In fact, I've never heard you utter anything
of reason.
Maybe I'll just go it alone
and hope you won't sneak up
from under my bed at night
and rip out my innocent eyes,


It's something my grandfather taught me
before I was born
with sun in my eyes and
war in my smile.
I won't see clouds running and not see
numbers, not think of it, side with them,
Not You.
Men of different faces sit around a table
and discuss what to do with my homeland
just as we've begun
to fight back.