I'll look for him
The park dweller
When our way of life
Is at an end

When all the stored
Material possessions
Don't mean anything

Just food and water
Shelter too
That will be all that matters

There was never much here
For us on this earth
We seemed out of time
Out of place
Wandering without desire

We had the sunrise
And the sunsets
The hours walking
And lounging about

He had a check
I think he received
For food

I think he is
A Vietnam veteran

Like me he enjoyed reading

And so we sat at the park
And ate red grapes

And watched the various
Mushroom clouds
As the atomic bombs
Struck downtown Los Angeles

"So I guess this is the end,"
I said

"Oh well," he said
"It was nice while it lasted"

I agreed

A darkened depth, a roaring sorrow
today I see you, though you're gone tomorrow
a vibrate glow, your smile projects
a beating heart, with no regrets
hard and lonely, a road we know
we're never ready, but here we go
a mental hunger, love neglected
high hopes, our love respected
always here, I hope you know
even with distance, I am your home

not all loss is intolerable.
there is a feather caught in the fan
whipped round quickly

--some loss leaves you with no breath,
tied to the bed in a tangle of knotted regrets
falling into the hole where there once was
something.

you are fine.
you are not caught in the pull
of a sinkhole. wake up.
shake the mud from your eyes, kid.

it will happen again.

I want to sit on your shoulders
And laugh at the earth
Just like all the stars

The internet, social networking, you, reading this, now.


It’s all about surface value, the judgment of likes and dislikes. It’s all about interests,


"Oh, you like this band?
this movie,
this painting,
this author,
this show,
this *******?"

"Oh, you’re so cool, you’re such an awesome person", obviously.

You will never know me, never know who I am, and with the way this world has shifted,
with the acceptance of this voyeurism of superficial attractions, I’m afraid neither will I.

You’ll rarely know when I’m genuine or when I’m plagiarizing, original or manufactured, real or phony.
But that’s alright, it keeps a distance, it keeps things calm, and safe, and clean.

That’s all we really want. A facade, a dream, the image of our desires, not the manifestation.
We want cold, hard, unbreakable, shiny plastic perfection.

No one wants the warm, moist, moving, ever changing mess that is life, and love, and humanity.

So stay at your computer, stay inside your factory, keep typing instead of talking,
keep pushing instead of feeling, keep staring instead of looking.

It’s okay, it’s alright, it’s now.

*circa 2009

It's the most painful thing
To think you love someone
And not really know
Cause the distance is feign
And my face droops from the pain

Oh we're not so old
But we're growing older everyday
And that's why miles are turning into minutes
Every day it takes me to get to you
To make you feel again, alive

All I want, is to find comfort in those caffeine eyes
And relieve the pain hidden behind
Rest your head on my chest
And let my heart sing a lullibi

I just want to know who's heart is going to win this race
Because I don't know if I can pace myself now
I cross my fingers we tie, and cross the finish line
With fingers locked
Cause I'd hate to finish holding my own
But if that's how it's gotta be,
Then so be it

Oh we're not so old
But we're growing older everyday
And that's why miles are turning into minutes
Every day it takes me to get to you
To make you feel again, alive
To look into those caffeine eyes

I look into the mirror.

What have I done?

Swayed by subtle persuasions
Of my founding fathers;
I've allowed them to shape me
Into some distorted replica
Of everyone else.

I am an American girl.

A mirror image
Of the ideal human being
Blankly returns my gaze.

I am an American girl.

I am growing her long hair,
I am painting her face,
I am grinning her shiny-peach-juice smile.

"Lovely, lovely, lovely," I whisper.

I am an American girl.

Nothing but a confined chameleon,
Resting on a tree branch constructed of
Magazines,
9-o-clock television,
And reality shows.

I know reality,
Or at least I used to.

I am an American girl
Longing to wake
From the American dream.

Have you ever tethered on the edge of sanity ?
Everything's too crammed yet it's all just empty.

Have you ever climbed onto the peak of vanity ?
Forever confused though it seems so orderly.

Have you ever fell into a world of fantasy ?
Dreams and hopes all mistaken as reality.

Have you ever been drove by sanity,
To the peak of vanity,
Only to realize,

It was all,
Fantasy.