It’s a fight to
wake up
so early
sunday morning.

a hike was set
up clearly
no problem.
motivation
was built in
or so it was
perceived
before gathering
all four plus one
getting lunch in
the a.m. to eat
in the p.m. five
aluminum bottles
filled with earth’s
most purest
element (water)
on my back
in a pack pulling
perspiration from
my pores. soaked.
sore. rock hopping
dirt treading
it was fun
it was work
the stream we
followed up. up
to what could easily
be called a piece of
Heaven. the peace of
a waterfall. source
of the stream.

then
when
we returned
we heard the
sunday morning
man on the podcast
behind a microphone
inside four walls
say,
“i’ll take the
elevator.”

when i had
long hair
surfer they assumed.

brah.

with dread locks
for five years
i was rasta-farian.

mon.

volkswagen bus
stickers = one love
they never really knew

who i was.

a businessman
making millions
on their ignorance.

cha-ching.

in this capitalist-
driven dwelling
i am a human

being.

i’m a bruised banana.
a used napkin. as
raw and real as it gets.

squished.

and ripped.

but that still
shouldn’t
matter

because

it’s never
better to cast
upon us any kind of

judgements.

how differently would you treat me
if you discovered
i was the product of ****?

should i believe
that i really made
the abortion escape?

i don't know the seed that planted me.
neither the soil.

but i was born.
i am living. i am
definitely real.

was it a date? a one-night stand?
the curiosity starts to thicken.
a fling? an experiment? with a boy and a girl –
at fifteen years-old? a king – and his mistress?
was it Winnie Hollman – and Jack Nicholson?
maybe satan on hallow's eve. it was october
when i was conceived.

eliminating a baby is crippling
to the mother. it's hardening
to the heart. it's parting
from the start. never
saying hello.
never seeing
your star glow. oh man...

i don't know.

i must have whispered inside the tunnels within.
it's not the end.
—end.
i'm not finished.
—finished.
the echo made it's way.
—it's mark. in the dark.
the light.

a spark.

there's never a right time
to say good bye. but when
we know. we gotta go.
and stray our own way.

just to make sense of this.
whether we know what it is.
people do it all the time. people
doing what's right. why do we fight
the truth. a choice saved my life.

i am living proof.

i just want to stare at you.
and compare you to
what i see in the mirror.

the fear would subside.
many questions arise.
only one answer resides.

real is what you made me.
my life is what you gave me.

so to you
i give all my gratitude.
thank you.

bottle the ocean.
it looks clear.

imprision the sky.
air disappears.

blue is a made-up pigment. a
figment of our imagination. a
fabricated. hallucination.

not fire. nor air. not dirt.
i searched. the plants. and water.
not Homeric poetry. not anywhere.

just the hollow bodies.
of mass sandwiching us.
a mellow glare. trans-
lucent. see-through. clear.

the ocean’s depths. ***** charcoal.
yucatan peninsula water falls. o’er
my own genuine blue eyes as
the myan ruins reveal my lie.

forgetting this blue collar
mess with ripped terminology.
denim turned to jeans
post war. 1950s.

blue is not real.
(eye) see right through (them)
in water’s reflection.
pinch me.

so i may know
that i’m
not

empty.

i will become extinct now
because the cows that i love
to eat and drink will have
no more grass to mow
leaving machine processed
foods for nourishment. eliminating
the use of my four-thousand dollar
orthodontic pretty white pearls and
find worth in the five-thousand
dollar allo-derm gum implants.

i will become extinct now as

my forty-year-old digestive
system in which has been pumping
iron exercises three times a day
testing it’s strength with an
8 ounce filet mignon will have
no use any longer so long
to my habitual adult grape
juice for the vines will have
no place to grow. soon they’ll be
powderized. they’ll capsulize my merlot.

i will become extinct now as

the sun sets but only
because it’s manufactured
like pirates of the caribbean
ride you don’t know you’re
inside. fake flames. fake heat.
fake sunsets which provoke my
deepest feelings. artificial now
emotions controlled to it’s
purest form snowboarding
on snoopy sno-cone creations.

replacing our creator with the
lastest inventions. i will
become extinct now.

for i cannot live this way
because my heart is real.

i meant (italicized)
to commit
to many things.

i meant (underlined)
to submit to
my authority.

obligation.
restriction.
(pause) deterioration.

i go over the
f o r m u l a
over and
(caps) over

again. one
that no (bold) one
looks at.

but me (underlined).
accepting what i see.
some form of (italicized)

rotary dial coin slot skipping cd broken sink peanut
butter and jelly crust click push breathe particles
layered dust on the window sill.

commited to a mental
institution (meant to).
middle eastern tradition.

no variety (elipse) —sonic boom—
no room for parady (italics) commit
suicide.

a process according
to the scribbles
of man.

and a pattern that
absolutely
nothing
amounts
to (period).

if i were a security guard
i'd be a better
writer

writing like a real
writer with time
to feel

the people watching
i'm engaged in.
passionate

wouldn't even begin
to explain the
half of it.

it's life and it's
distractions
cracking

the complications of
my own plan.
the

man i'm destined to
be (period).
deleted.

on the run. keep me
seated (ellipsis)...
and i'll
write.

right
off the page.
onto
my pant leg.

dedications. heart
to hand (cramp).
wondering

what will i do when
i grow up. i know
what.

become a security
guard at santa
monica

pier
and

dis-
appear

dis-
regard-
ing

who i
am.

they'll think i'm
there to stop all
wrong.

but all i want
is to stop and
write.