A desert wind blows hot and dry,
whispering a prayer for rainclouds.
The Milky Way spills across the night sky,
with Saturn and Jupiter shining down,
interstellar eyes
that see the white lizards
skittering in the sand,
and me laying on my back,
gazing up,
swimming in starlit possibility.

Unfortunately
words evade me
unless depression drags me
into the mud
or despair threatens to swallow me up
so take my silence as a good sign
see my blank page as a message
that I am doing
just fine

a dull buzz grew
while my throat contracted
***** held back by a grip
then the spins
then a black out
come to in the kitchen
dishes in hands
water on
the whole world roaring
stumble up the stairs
close my door
fall to the floor
while the panic sets in
holy **** this is it
this is my end
breath sharp but distant
crawl to the bed for some comfort
before suffocating
then the terror eases up
lungs quiet and absorb enough
holy ****
the worst has dissipated
and left me frustrated
with my now aching chest
legs tightened
my entire body yelling
Frightened!
only my pillows
to whisper
it's okay, you're okay,
I've got you,
breathe with me,
slowly,
breathe
with
me
.
.
.

I've been riding my bike with the seat stolen for months. I've cut down the time that nicotine washes over
my gums to two times a day.
I'm on my way out to a four year
university for the second time
and reduced my drunkenness
to three days a week
it might be tongue in cheek to believe
I'm healed and ready to venture on
but I'm at least going strong despite
everything I've done and seen. My phone screen gleams with a fresh text
"Just for the record, there is nothing I
don't like about you." screen shotted,
only a hands reach away from my pocket, that text might as well be
in a locket

two burns decorate my shoulder
due to drunken recklessness
one on my forearm
by a stubborn game of pain
but the second in the same spot
was not in ruckus or fury
it was born from being
terribly, terribly
empty

I will repair the c r a c k s
in my skin with gold
Broken but full of worth
with a little bit of shine

It's eight p.m.
My hand holds connection
to friends
car keys turn in the ignition
forty minutes
a few cigarettes
park in the dark
LA greets me
An hour later I'm tipsy
two days later I'm hungover
my left *** cheek bruised
no closer to nirvana
I just wanna forget Long Beach
here my reach outs get response
my lonely haunts turn into
songs
here I have company
that doesn't mind a stiff drink
a wild night
I think it's safe to say
I've gotten a new form
of
running
away

I stood by while the shopkeeper
rang up the tea stored in little Big Bens.
My girlfriend fiddled with some pens at the desk.
"Where are you from?" he asked.
We both replied, "California!"
"Ah, but you," he said,
looking her straight in the eye,
"where are you from originally?"
Her shoulders slumped.
She repressed a sigh.
"Well, my mom, and grandma, and grandpa,
and their parents, and their parents' parents
were all born in America,
but way back when my mom's side
came from Japan.
My dad's side is English though."
"Ah," said the shopkeeper, "So your mom
is from Japan. I could see something different
in your face."
Inside I cried'
"Where are you from originally?
It couldn't possibly be here,
you hair is the wrong color,
your skin a shade off,
so please give us your family history.
Or do you swear you're a Brit?
You were born here? Oh sure, but your mom?
Her too?
No, she must be a foreigner."

Instead, I handed over the notes,
grabbed the tea,
and left without saying a thing,
without saying a thing,
without saying a...

She ran,
clattering over the linoleum
which had been designed
to look like wood,
having just bolted from Asia's arms,
as if harm were imminent,
our intent evil-bent and cruel.
I reached out my hand,
trying to imbue tranquility
in my movements,
shrive any hostility.
When I brushed her head
her wide eyes —

they shook.

a connector, a communicator,
abstract, not quite the real thing, just close,
just a sound to represent.
Do words fall short?
Almost always,
so why continue to speak?
Why seek connection through futile means?
Touch, a look, are much more accurate.

Time to shut eyes, reach out,
and communicate.

Five sea turtles bask,
the evening sun glinting off their shelled backs.
The sand glistening with each waves retreat.
Like statues, the turtle guardians.

One cracks an eye, slow,
peeks at those watching,
pointing,
then closes the eye again.
Not concerned with human things,
it's only desire to store sun fire
deep under it's scale skin,
bring it back underwater
and heat its soul within.

Lately I just
               sit
               in    silence

Her chest rose and fell as she slept,
the black sheets draped over her hips,
her arms folded over her face,
taking a nap in outer space.
I laid next to her,
awake and breathless.
The cat at our feet seemed unable
to grasp the importance of the moment.
Instead she spread her paws, yawned.
For the cat and my love
this is just a lazy evening, another nap,
for me
it is everything.

the highway lanes began to spread
like my veins, full of life
criss-crossing, bobing, weaving
and my heart began to pulse
so **** fast
faster than the cars that passed me
going eighty, cruising
driving a little reckless
despite having my whole life
packed in the back
of a ten foot Uhaul
everything I own bouncing
up and around
while heat waves
swam from the ground

That's when it really sank in
everything I've grown to know
is changing

Dear Eddie,
        The best
and worst
thing that ever happened to me
was you dying in that car crash.
It taught me that
life doesn't last
and
that the past
is
the
past,

Your friend and brother,

Dan

It's velvety here on the fringes
way out in the darkness
absorbing light, tugging photons
down with this immense
gravity.

Space dust, starlight, no matter can singe
nor emotions depress,
darker than night, a siren song
making all past tense
certainly,

but I am not full and cannot find
a cure for emptiness.
Heed me no mind. Your galaxy
will crackle and smolder
long enough.

How can I tell him
it's not all his fault
he doesn't believe it
all alone
empty apartment
no dog, no son, no wife
Does he cry at night?
Does he hug his knees tight?
Does he cry just like me?
(at the same time?)
Is he gone at the bottom
of a bottle
of a bottle
I feel so weak
I'm just one sad boy
but so is he
a boy in a man's body
his real smile lost to me

Does he cry? (just like me?)

She said she wanted to take me line dancing
down town with a couple of folks
I said yes but wanted to say
"Don't you go an' get too involved now
'cause I'm packing my bags, on my way out
and you might just wind-up a' really  hatin' me"

I'll ask you three times if you want something and if you still say no the third time I won't ask again. If you resent me for that, then say what you want before it's too late

2. Staying to help clean after a party means about as much as being at the party, sometimes more

3. Treat animals well, if someone is cruel to animals it's a good bet they will be cruel to people

4. You can do things by yourself. Go out to eat, go to the park, take a drive. It's okay to decline company, if they are good company they will understand (but be careful to not shut them out)

5. Don't ever put anyone down for singing along to a song, even if their voice is terrible it is beautiful to hear them being free

6. If you are with people and want something, offer it to them as well

7. Make your room smell the way you want. Candle, incense, some sort of spray. People remember more from a scent than from a picture

8. Take care of your body, when it's happy your brain is happier. Exercise of any form helps improve your mood

9. Only humans keep track of time, spend a day without ever checking a clock, let your natural rhythm tell you when to eat or sleep or run or lay

10. Find one thing to enjoy each day. If the rest of the day goes poorly at least you can say you liked part of it

I try to pour this light
from my insides,
brighten up the walls
that hold you.

We all said how much we hated it
that little town with nothing to do
we cried and called about its absolute
           waste of space.
Oh we would leave it and be
                                                      Glad
­No one ever even whispered a
maybe I'll miss it
just a little bit. or
                                           I lived here my whole life
****
Then I went back to visit
and for the first time in years
                  I was having a great time
                      in that little town we all swore
                                we'd never
                                           go back
                                                            to.

Has the potion of poesy
been processed out by my liver?
Maybe I ****** it out with last weeks whiskey,
or forgot to sprinkle it
over my frozen "meals for two,"
which always end up as a meal for one.
Has the season changed so much
that the wind carried it away?
The bees cannot find its pollen to spread,
and I cannot smell it
drifting through the complex...

What comes next? What comes?
Life after poetry,
do you scatter,
dissolving, dispersing energy?
Do you matter,
to the Earth, the air, the galaxy?
Or do you slip into an early routine,
forget the touch, the taste,
the sound of words
bouncing in your mouth?

Can you be reborn, reincarnated
as something new, something with assonance,
consonance, brilliance and shine?
Can I somehow get back,
back,
please come back
gentle poesy,
gently rhyme,

be mine?

None of this seems quite
                                    right.
I heard it starts around this age
I might just have lost it.

has it abandoned me?

Roof tops, dancing,
she's all alone in her sun flower dress.
I'm caught romancing,
haven't given my best in quite some time.
Wanna fall through it all with her,
land on my bed, take off that dress,
and press my hips to hers,
our skin saying things
we can't with words,
wether we're soft, gentle,
or bound up with chords.
The shaking a shimmy,
to shrive off ill feeling, hate,
the gasps to capture
the musk given off by our heat.
We will collapse, panting,
entangling our feet,
everything else will fall off
like your sun flower dress,
black and yellow,
mellow,
mellow,
mellow...

My downstairs neighbor got evicted,
he gave me a charm to keep away evil spirits, hung it right on my door. Acceptance from a few time aqaintance
had never felt so good. We stood and smoked stoge after stoge, swapping stories, who would have thought two stories and a noise complaint to meet a Pisces just like me, and have him call me a saint. That *****, quivered on the air followed by I don't care, a high five, and a see you around. Drop the stoge to the ground, stamp it out, peace out.