i actually saw sad before. in words.
i saw her laying on the floor.
next to me. as i read her quietly.

leaning against the couch. lifting a
glass of wine to her mouth. as she
shouted how she hated me.

touching. then inhaling.
begging. then crying.
a crook. who repents.

in the robbed. smoke-filled.
brooklyn apartment.

crinkled. crumbled.
waste basket. shot.
not empty. but filled.

with sad.

tears.

helping me realize the
should-haves and what-ifs.

a stream running.
over smoothed rocks. forming
bumps from under. drowning pollywogs.

numb. idle. this prosaic.
emotions stacked. like the dishes
in the drying rack.

drip.

drip.

never realized how much
music i made until
she was gone.

the snare on the
table.

the cling on the
railing.

against my phone
nervous twitch.
clicking the clip

on

black pen.
the drop in
left pocket.

snare. snap.
boom. bip.
shuffle. tap.
slip of lips.

synchronizing a
new chorus.

now

the hits are hollow.
the verse empty.
sans ring.

thump.

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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

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.”

just call me
easy b
easy does it.
i’m easy like
dot dot dot
(ditching church on a)
sunday morning
head to the ocean
no sun, west coast
BK Joe, morning roast
exposed toes massaged
by millions of miniature rocks.
no hard place
just soft, safe,
in touch with creation
as i listen to nothing
but creation
itself.
don’t make this
difficult.

yes,
you’re the
man, not
you
da man,
bro
like a salute
high-five
good-deed
just accomplished
something worth
congratulations.
you’re the
man,
as in
make every
one feel safe
head of the house
take out the
trash, go
to the water
well, put the
clothes in
the dryer
in the middle of
the night, be
sure the
garage is closed,
stove off, front
door locked
duties of
being
the man
yes,
i am the
man.