Asphalt, steaming screams swear words
The offensive smell of pavement post downpour
I think I’d like life better if it rhymed
The chatter and clatter mad hatters me
Sleepless and hopeless with Romans
And their online roads and aqueducts
They slither and snake but there is no more wild in the west
Automated scarecrows with AR-15’s stand guard
O’er amber waves of grain
Eyes open for outlaws and injuns
Cattle ranching of the future
Feeding the world one cubic meter of methane at a time

The sun-baked bayou rots in sun-dried tomato heat
This is not a traditional geometric form
No cube, no circle, this shouldn’t be possible
The swamp’s stink lines blur with the waving heat of the pavement
Fresh out the oven
Flattops from the flatlands
Flamingos from the herons
Is Gaea up on new trends?
Wetlands are out we’ve got shiny new sewers
Glistening, gleaming, glowing with 4 star reviews
The development company’s shade trees are still saplings
Shade! Coming here in 15 to 20 years! Mark your calendars
I got the fast pass for the highway so I can look for parking quicker
I heard there’s parking lot with a million spots
My kids’ eyes widen in wonder, Really Daddy?
I nod with a knowing smile, thinking
Wait till they learn about Cyber Monday
Orthogonal forms dominate here
I wonder if herons wake up early for Black Friday?

I'm on the Metra today
The snow outside is teal or green
Like the Caribbean in cartoons
But here 2 ladders lean on the same tree
A lover's suicide
The coldest Caribbean I've ever seen
The church's sign scrolls by
"ght in the Lor"
And we're gone
The train rumbles on
Bridges cover bridges
New! Tower of Babel (coming soon!)
A couple thinks they're subtle 3 rows up
Michael Jackson marries Elvis's daughter
He didn't go to the wedding
There's no Jewels Osco's in Georgia
But the houses here exude the same drab comfort
A deer stands next to a storage locker
The train rumbles on
I'm smuggling beer back to the dorm
Like the good college student my mom wants me to be
I don't have my phone on me
I've never felt more alone
Or free
I explain what happened to the guy who checks tickets
I dropped it in the floorboard of my friend's car
Right before the train arrived
He believes me thank god
I focus again on what's outside the window
And now it's just trees
Skeletal and bare
The train rumbles on

I wonder about the tea called peace
you know the one in the can
my favorite flavor is sweet lemon
i wonder about it's heft and might
the atoms of tea trapped in the can
begging and begging to be set free
free from the real and free from the unreal
do the manufacturers know about me?
who is the manufacturer?
some guy?
is there even a guy?
well hello there!
some guy
I'm henry
I think your drink is pretty good
I can't help but wonder though about the leaves
you know that's where tea comes from
anyway I have a question for you Mr. Some Guy
if that even is your real name
do you take into account how heavy the can of tea is?
cause it feels nice
a reassuring bundle of matter that says "I take up space"
but it's kind of gross
you know?
the amount of liquid you want me to pour into my stomach
and for that liquid to say "I cost 1.49 at the 7/11"
any ways Mr. Guy,
I just wanted to say thanks

The sky is beautiful tonight
Lavender, salmon, and pink like blushing when someone says they love you
But it's already gone
No one will ever see the colors I just saw
And I feel like blushing
Embarrassed due to long standing aversions to sincerity
5:26 PM

From where I sit at my desk at the gym
The sky is 2 different creatures
On one side
A blood orange backlight is cut and cracked by black naked trees
On the other side
The clouds shift and bubble like fresh squeezed blackberry soda
4 guys from the basketball team practice their 3 point shots
5:51 PM

verily as i sit here
an exercise in automatic writing
in the vain of all those dada artists before me
i sit
and compose
and i wonder
oh how lucky i am
that amongst the marvel of the present
amidst the bone and sinew of my hand
i possess still the ability to type
and to see the beauty
in the real and in the unreal
like those many in my past
oh how lucky i am
and i wonder
just how many before me have loved
in that same way that only i
have loved
loved the feeling of fingers and keyboards
and of cookies in my mouth
and of music in my ears
oh how lucky i am
to be in love
with a woman
a woman as real as me and you
and although she is not here
with me
in this moment
she exists as i imagine her
like the fleeting image of a siren in the sea spray
and i write
oh how lucky i am
and i gaze past my bare legs onto the floor
the floor of my room and i wonder
oh how lucky i am
oh how lucky i am
in love with the image of a coke can
like so many andy warhols before me
and i stare into his sunglasses
on the poster next to my bed
that i got at the art institute of chicago
and i wonder
oh how lucky i am

The horizon took a smoke break at sunset
And 7 hours later she's still gone
No doubt sleeping with the breeze
I stand on the deck in the darkness
Leaning forward
My hands on the rail
Gazing at the infinite mirror, reflecting
The air is as still and cold as the water
Just like the man next to me
He sighs but no vapor forms
He's cloaked in a blue shadow
Like the bottom of the ocean
A darker blue I've never seen
But in a voice clear as ice he asks
'Do you love me?'
I nod
'Not talking tonight?'
I nod
He rests his stygian blue fingers
On the back of my moon-light hand
And we kiss
Enjoying each other
Until the sun clocks in in the morning

Why do I miss school
I’m surprised I miss it
But not that surprised
I mean I watch educational videos for fun after all
But still
I mean
It’s school
Like School school
The same school I’ve kinda hated all my life
The same one that everyone else also loves to hate
But now we all miss it
What happened?
What’s going on?
These are the end times
But hey I’m going for runs now
I even ordered shoes
They got delivered in one day
And that’s free delivery
And I’m reading books!
Made of paper!
I got them at the library
You know that big building near downtown?
They’re about history and/or economics
And at least the weather’s nice
I mean it could be worse
And I get to sleep in
My school work is pretty easy
I get to play video games
And I’m spending more time with my family
We’re eating better food
I’m sure the pets don’t mind
I’m doing better than I ever have I think
But I miss school
These are the end times
I’ve never felt like this
No one ever has
This is once in a lifetime
And no one feels good
We’re all both over and under reacting
Pretty unpleasant
This is all gonna define the generation
And there’s nothing we can do
I hope it doesn’t all go wrong
These are the end times
More people posting on instagram
I mean we have a lot of free time
And every commercial mentions “the virus”
They wouldn’t be doing it if it didn't make money
And all every news outlet talks about is the virus
And I get that we need to flatten the curve
But all I see are memes
At least I’m doing my part
I guess
Kinda feels like a horror movie
When the cops don’t believe the protagonist
When they first tell them about the murderer
These are the end times
And what is there to do but wait
I’ll keep going for jogs
I’ll eat dinner with my family
Mom made me quit my job until it all blows over
There’s a little over 100 dollars in my bank account
We’ll see how long it lasts now
People are losing their jobs
People who need their jobs
The economy’s going to be in rough place for years
And no one really knows hows it’s gonna shake out
Maybe we’re overreacting
I don’t think so but you never know
I’ll just keep hoping for the best I suppose
What else can I do?
These are the end times

I arrive at the corner
All five senses awake
It’s raining, light footsteps, a murmur
Words with no weight
Footsteps on wet streets
Steam rising
Air that is water
I hear without listening

Your body of steam
Your face of night
Your hair of lightning
Your eyes of asphalt
Your fingers of water
I see you in this place

The unhurried lighting unfolds you
You cross the street and enter time
Weightless
The asphalt’s shining
Night walks away
A surge of weight running over me
The rain listens
Not distracted in this moment
Night returns
You and the mist
Figurations of time
Wandering in the dark

Days and years go by
The night is in another time
In the next room
Not here
You lay asleep in your garden
Nestled among the leaves
Adrift of time
Footsteps cover you
No more resurrections
You listen to the rain
A vision

Inventor of the night
The shadow
The rain
Listen to me
See my sorrow
Open my eyelids
Burn the terrace
The grove
The night
The moments

Rigid, impasto clouds
Stick out of the sky
Like Van Gogh
Put them there himself
Sky peaking between
Buildings and towers
Pushed and pulled
Twisted and ripped apart
Like fabric tearing slowly
Moved by the breeze
Invisible currents slicing
A silent cacophony of air
I reach up and feel
Solid, dried paint crackles
Under my finger tips
I pull my hand away
Digits stained white and blue and gray

Shifting streets and their buildings
Pulsing and moving and shaking
Jagged and prickly corners
Edges of windows glint
Like drops of blood
On the edge of a sword
Walls and sidewalks
Rough like a giant cat's tongue
The skyscrapers carve the landscape
Into a distorted forest
An amalgamation of today
And yesterday and the day before that
I reach forward and feel
I pull back in shock
Fingers pricked and knees scraped

The warrior walks
Dawn's first light in the forest
A babbling stream

The birds are chirping
He wades through the tide of mist
Around his ankles

The stream is ahead
Dropping his weapon he falls
The battle was won

He saved his village
But suffered a grievous wound
He reaches forward

The ice cold water
Brings wet fingers to his lips
A slight refreshment

Savoring the taste
A bed of wild flowers
A perfect cushion

Weapon behind him
He thinks about his breathing
With grass on his face

Remembers, exhale
His wife and child, inhale
Beautiful, exhale

Remembers, inhale
The days long battle, exhale
His people saved, still

Remembers, inhale
Vibrant colors of spring, still
His daughter's face, still

Remembers, exhale
Cold water on his lips, still
Birds are chirping, still

Wild flowers, still
Rays of dawn pierce the trees, still
A babbling stream

most of the angels avert their gaze
a few stare, their glares embedded
in my bare chest and just one
watches quietly from the corner

what would Judas think about
the scarves? one wrapped around
my wrists and the other around
my eyes with my teeth clenched

my back is arched above the
towel you put on your sheets just
in case. did jesus ever think about
his safeword as he hung on the cross?

‘Do you like that?’ whispers Pontius Pilate
gasping I respond, ‘Yes sir,’

‘I ain’t tired!’ yells the homeless, old man begging for change
On the green line station me and my friends get off at to buy coffee
He turns and looks at us
‘I ain’t tired!’ yells the toothless, old man on that cold winter night
As we preemptively pull out our phones and look down at the ground
A defense mechanism
‘I ain’t tired!’ yells the hobbling, old man as we pass him by
Without making eye contact or even a sympathetic nod
If only I had cash on me
‘I ain’t tired!’ repeats the mentally ill, old man while we descend
The stairs down onto the pavement and into Chinatown
The snow continues falling
‘I ain’t tired!’ echoes the starving, old man
His voice ringing in my ears long since we’d left ear shot
The only time I had the courage to glance at him
He was a mess of wires and bone and cloth and paint and white hair
Older than the city I had just begun to explore and call home
Permanently on that train station yelling
‘I ain’t tired!’
‘I ain’t tired!’
‘I ain’t tired!’