We cause
quite the confluence,
you and I.

I swear I’ll probably
miss you. I think I
might already.

i sit,
in my watchtower
viewing hiked skirts
from a 2nd floor
pealing off the skin
crusssssssst
on my arms, thinking
“19”
i,
sit,
green from trees
invading,
pupils dulling,
life multiplying,
i in my infertile
watchtower,
above coffee shop
2nd floor,
watching hiked skirts
bounce through streets
the ghost of
charlie haunting me.

Sustaining life
for extended periods
is much more difficult
when currency
is entered
as a variable
in to the scenario.

If I could, I would
live in the forest.
If I could, I would
sleep under the
stars, every night.

But, alas, I can just
afford the thick wool blankets,
and I surely can’t
begin to rent
a campground lot.

The earth spins on its axis
Dark wine, yellow ochre and blue
The spinster threads her needle
Through an endless spool of colors

hatred builds inside
whenever in your presence;
i don’t understand.

how could i not be naive
when i’ve not seen it
finished yet?
the volcanoes
and asteroids
and hurricanes
in my chest
this sunspot causing
all of my duress
the gravity my lust
fights against
in the end we will
see what’s left

those were the golden days
surrounded by brilliant minds
babbling bull shit from sun peak to sun hide
giving me inspiration to sit
and write every first sentence i heard
for ten minutes in a crowd
furiously trying to keep up
knowing it would spring a poem
i could hope to find useful one day

but then digging through old notebooks
i fail to find you

To write
I mean
to really write
again
or
at all
is
mmm…

I sat in front of a
mostly-empty notebook
and a pen
for twenty minutes

But
to write
again
I mean
to really
Write
is
just
so
mmm…

tickled with the scent
of
already ripe
bitter tea leaves
in preparation
of what still is probably not the last
class i’ll dread
weekly

I demand
Inspiration
not
explanations as to
why you can’t deliver
and no,
I don’t
understand Chinese.

So
just
read it to me slowly
because even if I could,
we all know I
can’t decipher
your fine print.

…But Goodness knows I’ve tried

Made in person and should by accompanied by
The presentation of this
Otherwise it cannot be removed without prior notification
Safekeeping is essential
Announcements should be immediate on discovery
As it has been agreed
By the regulations received upon conception.

We settled
near each-other
on the floor
– it was the best place –
near the door
in to the next room
that we hardly used at all

And we squeezed
of one another
and we laughed
and fought and kissed
until we nearly
fell asleep where
one ought not

And she smiled and
bit her lip
while we drove
all the way crosstown
to where she stayed
on weekdays

and what it was
I can not fathom

beautiful prose,

no i settle for worse

words written while

playing the ‘i dont care’ game

words i mean but must act like i don’t

words i scribbled with a knife in the slide

in that town that doesn’t mean anything to me

the one near the border of mexico

you remember
where we first discovered that people do illicit things in parks

then carve their names in the slides



mine said

roger was here

The baby’s crying
No
It’s the phone ringing
His neck is rung
The clothes are out to dry
The river runs
A marathon in the desert
With a cherry on top
It’s a spinning carousel
With horses and ponies
But then she grew up
And we’ll find out
I’d rather be in
Hotel or motel
Models?
With bodies
Of water by the bank
There’s a hold up
I’m stuck
I’m only two feet away
There are two feet
Walking to the phone
Four now
I am a cat
The cat?
Who let the cat out?
Eight legs
A spider
Spinning my web
And wait
There is a slumbering giant
Not sleeping
Awake
He is hunting
I am hiding
In the mouse hole
They are fighting a holy war
The mousetrap kills them all
In the kitchen underneath
The sink
The waters running
I am running
I am drowning
I can fly
I’m a fly
Must get out the window
Did you say widow?
She’s watching television
And hears the phone ringing
The phone has my feet
I have no feet
It’s still too far away

o, little flowers
drink the sun:
please don’t die.

The water seeped through the
top of his shoe, but
the slight wet did not
phase him, as he
strode so purposefully
towards the door.

He loved to have his
key to this, his
home and haven,
just the place to
hide away from
rain.

The lock unset, the
door swung wide, he
stepped inside, and
just as he would wipe
his head, a bolt of
lightening struck him dead.

Coincidentally, we
haven’t got a clue
what to do, but
we’ll do it. Or at least
try to get through this
fucked up bit.

Demonstrably, they
tear our side to pieces
caring less and less for
facts and more and more
for deeper and deeper
cuts in to our
collective consciousness
and,
possibly,
(and perhaps cliche’)
our collective soul.

But
I
Don’t
Want
To
Let
You
Pro
Tect
Me
From
My
Self.

And Anyway,
how do you know
what’s best for me
any god damned way?