in it i have the twist and ****
that falls upon beer caps
and ragged desert fur
that sops up dicotomies,
bathe or dont, fleas or lice,
leaves on battered tarmac
corn that drags its venomous
fangs bare
clogged shitshown *** heathen
explosions decimating wakes
flown over with brutal
stoves; unreckoned
i havent cleaned out my ears in weeks
and its beginning to affect my
hearing.
fast through curves meeting
the brush
glad at the sink
twin teeth buried beneath
long
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 3:26 AM UTC
in the height and heather
warmly brushing against
make and muddle
omens speak unerringly
in the voices
between mind and nobody.
lost in the sense of death hand
or forgotten in sensing of collapsed
landscape
burning blindness dots horizons
scan sharp
charged into faithless
trampled wordless
left behind and struck
upon else and whether
when little is borne
upon tangential lines.
a hundred brands
of pillow soft
toilet paper spread evenly
across tobacco leaves
like decorative mantras
on the scarred face of christ.
bliss is upon those who can
give up quietly
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 2:51 AM UTC
ready when the pain subsides
drunk on seagrass and
stains imedded in the
contours of your brain:
50% gelatin 50% bacteria
paper and pen or clear glass
to cast words which flow
faster than matter can keep
up-the buffalo careening mad
over the cliff to oblivion
of lost thread
let sink your mistakes
open up your chest
and let green rain drown you
whole
only the stop of-you-can
display that inner jewel,
and your inner jewel shines
ever so bright
that with it, if you let it,
will guide your way
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC
"I think about these moments
everyday," she breathed
into my neck,
running one finger up
and down my arm
stripping bare an
electric wire,
short circuiting
my skin
"fifteen, twenty times a day
and my knees buckle."
your love is pure,
unaltered with self interest,
it is passionate
unconceited.
but your love is also thoughtful
and direct.
you are strong
your strength inspires me
to find my own strength,
to fill myself with my own love,
so that together we
can share the best of ourselves.
with the embers of our souls
we'll start the flames that engulf
the world.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
the explorer of mountains dazed
mindless at the first glimpse
of primal space.
viceral worlds, diamond marshes
orbiting decaying stars.
the earth is nothing from here,
crags of tibet even less still.
could it be that
I never truly saw
what lay beyond the horizon?
now.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
breath trickle
through skin;
gathers in the wheat
gained: shared of shape
under cool stones
overturned
the dragging
of cubes
bombastic nether
drenched glass,
there padded earth black
in nutrient
bristling small pines
ruffle quiet
shaken in their roots
from the mighty wait
nothing but the glaciers
nothing but shade
nothing but ebb,
nothing but desert of
water,
sup of binding energy twitch matter
'perhaps perhaps'
cry the cubes
in the thrumming gentleness
crystalized automated
pure white light.
yes, to me
in such bath as this
the clamor of man silenced
and I can hear the hum of
the planets sliding along
alien planes
and a laugh plays
forth
e;
from me?
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC
sometimes I forget to breathe
when I think of her,
perhaps because the long unused
parts of my guts heart head
have forgotten what to do with
these sensations.
sitting, laughing quietly at ourselves,
at the absurd yet comfortable silence
that fills the air
as we, stunned, curious,
satisfy in simply breathing
the same air.
I stare at the tobacco stains
on my fingers
and imagine your kind, honest
smile in the dark.
i call myself a poet,
but the words shrink from my grasp
and settle somewhere, kindling.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
it's the smallest voices that scream the loudest
I've never been a fan of the trending hero
or the underground superstar.
slam poets make me sick.
your attitude is a well concocted ploy
to touch indie hearts and
I hate it.
I love the ignored
the militants
the trashman painter,
the gas station attendent that
makes ****** artcore ******
in her boyfriend's garage
the sixteen y.o. with a tape recorders
and a circuitbent casio
howling blood into an old
speakercummicrophone
slash and burn
leave your best work sitting
on a park bench for me
ignore the plight and shove
your fingers down your throat.
I love the broken. the hurt.
the misanthropes the schizoids
**** victims
homeless
suicidal
single mothers
drug addicts
if that fire is in your shattered
legs reflecting the age of
a
billion dead scaffolds
soul of revolution raging
knife in paw
I will fall in love with you
and sigh at the detrious
in your wake.
let me see you naked and crying
my own wounds fester quiet
when everyone else is asleep.
have a drink,
you earned it.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
you can **** any time and
any place you want.
I don't need money or stability
to survive.
the global flakes of atrophy
and the dead stink of
routing fish clinging right on
human animals secures
me in antigrowth.
I am a bee or a *****
the auburn eye
scatters empty
and I miss the smell
of your **** on me
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC
"that's a difficult question," she said, "thus the answer will be difficult. for both of us. it isn't a matter of loving or not loving. does the sun love the tree? assuredly, the tree needs the sun, but does it love it? without the sun the tree would die, but without the tree the sun would continue shining. continue pulling satellites around it, continue burning.
someday the sun well begin the process of dying. it will switch from fusing hydrogen for fuel to fusing helium. it will expand. it will enter its red giant phase. it will grow so large that it will envelop and vaporize the earth, tree and all.
so does the tree love the sun?"
I didn't know what to say. after staring into my eyes for a moment she walked off. it was so strange. dreamlike. I had never met that woman before. now she was gone.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC