what should i say?


i understand the river
of thought and learn
to breath among the
creatures of the riverbed

i speak but the words
get carried away
back down the curvature
of the giant sphere

i add my own water
to the stream but it
seems a pointless

it becomes foreign
just like my reflection,
the morning after

one thing remains true:
that i cannot breath
in this land
of fish and mossy rocks

i feel freer with
my feet hovering just
inches above the ground
and drier, too.



it might have happened
or it might not have,
it’s so hard to be sure
of anything these days.
and if it did,
and i’m not sure it did,
what was it like?
i just can’t seem to see it anymore,

because one minute it’s tall
and the next it’s so small,
one minute i’m afraid
and then i’m filled with rage,
and the truth is so hard to decipher,
when i’m purposefully fooling myself
each and every day,
going entirely off of a memory,
held together only in an imperfect mind,
not holding the truth,
but only interpretations
that may or may not be
factually and empirically true.

gird up your loins


Funny phrase, serious sandwich;
but I suppose that
in every man’s life,
the time must come
to “gird up your loins,”
whatever the hell that means.

I mostly just like to
call my junk, loins; but
if loins are junk, when
are my loins not girded up,
except for when I sleep?
And why should my loins be
girded up, as opposed to down?

I know that somewhere in this
possibly is a truth worth grasping,
but in my making light of all way,
I can’t see beyond the humor of the phrase.
So as I take my next step in life,
I will be sure to do so
loined up, down, or side to side,
whichever feels best at the time.

poetry is truth


and the Truth is sometimes like
your First kiss
or your Last
the Truth is sometimes a
Knife in hand
or in the back

either way speaking the
Truth is like spitting out a mouthful of rocks
you’ve been holding for 27 years

the Hope is that your Truth crushes
whoever it is that needs to be crushed
for there are those who’d rather you
have a mouth full of boulders
than a community full of hearts

the hope is that your Truth lifts
whoever it is that needs to be lifted
for there are those buried under

who need to breathe life
(so poets:
release your words so they may become

the hearts
the stars