found by an ex roommate of a girlfriend in jewish brooklyn . transplanted from one major american city to the next .
someone else's divorce
slowly replacing someone else's family home.
i move in finally as she moves out in  l a y e r s ,  taking last her cat.

the squeaky floorboards still sound like her.

It trickles down to me like dry rain.
I beat out on the earth to measure my time

The soil looks at me, as if I were strange.

He
Humbled me

She
Humbled me


The river running, humbled me away.

The difference between not having access
And not currently accessing :

We exist in the motion blur between moments

We bridge that gap every instant

Rather than be fused into paralysis within a caged world
We flutter through it all like
Glass breaking quietly


The machines do not have time.
Only a map of each moment .

We are
Striders between.

//
The ladder of ribs
Up along the skeleton, there.
Bones made of shame (and milk-myth),bleaching under
Sun and
Moon.
//
Tanned
Leather pouch softens to the morning,
Fallen from where a neck used to
Bundle sinew and rumble out
Something made of air
//
Still stuck-frozen to the hard soil and leaf-
Litter .


Ah oom, ah oom .

By a lime-green poison dart frog bracelet
Glowing in the black light

and its hot salmon glow, ripe as
swollen peaches ready to fall out of the sky
and into snarling haiku of roses

i am the water rising.
rushing over your body-
ready to
reanimate

and

you fell
and she sighed

and

he scarcely heard the turgid gasping
of his
muse

.           , ...........                       .........
                          |                 |                  \
                           \                 /                      \    
                                                                ­      \
             /|      i need to make      |\             \
            / |   myself feel special  | \              \
.--------    |   regardless of the     |  \          ..,.      
               |   impact on others.  |
                |                                    |
                |                                   |
               |                                     |
               |                                   _.|

in the power of human beings to change the world
and the enormous weight of responsibility that comes along with that.

Yet, I ever wander hillsides
Making my way, often, upwards

I will be ready to fight to protect American democracy (for real)
And the secular ideas of the Enlightenment that this nation was actually founded upon .

Drop the ******* *******.
Wake up from this hibernation and fear.

Stand against the deranged lunacy of the American conservative doomsday cult.

Those ******* took the snake flag :
“Don’t tread on me!”, they shout from their filthy, ****-stained lips.

That flag does not belong to them. Pry it from them.

That flag stands for Reason and Secularism .  That flag changed the course of history and Modern thought forever.

They do not seek revolution -
They seek the erasure of all
Human
Kindness.

———-


Celebrate the Human Condition.
Seek joy, but not at the expense of others.

Learn and grow.

Learn and grow, you ******* stunted cogs in someone else’s war machine!

Learn and grow!

but for the span of this
     /rolling/
        fall : we
may yet

shuffle.away
at the end
     of

      i
      t



p e t a l - s c u f f e d ,
yet
s t e m - s u r v i v e d .

everyone thinks themselves the hero of their own story,
but that simply can't be true.
for those of us that accept the comfort of villainy,
it is much more liberating.
its not  that i adhere to any great evil,
its just that i don't care for such vanity.
heroes ****
villains simply walk away
god kills like a hero.
I watch and walk away.

Wind tinted blue eyes sitting atop  the car radio
and scanning the Ch.s up and down in
search of
Seattle
Some lamb headed city
Dome knuckled in fear of
Wait times at the register
Wailing in the backseat forever

Keeping me sane between
insane-leaning morning lights

I fight to keep relevant  beside
Your suede smile

Amidst your
Life-like passion,
Daring to dance like sheets of ice skirting across the road rather than deeply, like beds made without love

Drastically reducing the recitation length of
Origin stories
Before they are told


Dreaming of sparrows where
Cooper’s hawks only - reel above sunroof skyline
(Owl-bellied in the breeze)

Restaurant restart until
We hone home.

set.
i don’t want you to think that i am anything but the attic stairs.you will know me well by the dust and dryseasoned timbers.i hold your artifacts safe for later.short to long term storageit’s always a bad estimation until it all sets in.rinse and re-but.the birds are all car alarms around here_it’s their version of neoclassical heavymetal.i know you know

we must become our own warm ambience
and scratch the hardwood floors with our love
pushing across the
room

calling the beats
calling the sea-roughed wannabe sailor-types

calling the ham radio in your head
calling the used binoculars and the clear sky of a warm night’s impulse

calling down through this
anthropological migration pattern
for
the trading card
charm
of
new kinds of
Fake.

it’s beach day for the //bad.guys
you.          better
catch the shoreline before it’s sold away

with
something
worth tethering to .

beauty
beating
bruises
broadcasts
blood
yet boiling
births messy
growing hurts

stones are thrown
kisses given freely
age takes you
   or doesn’t .

the world is full of
                      dust

I am full of
         hope
and
           ****
but let’s focus on the hope
but let’s              dance .

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s breaK the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

but let’s break the trance

it wears you down
smooth.
neat as the unfurrowed brow of its next victim.
mother holds our hands firmly as we cross-
baby takes a tumble in the road-
but baby, bae af, gets up.

violence loves, more explicit than we, in the pause occupied between our
breaths.
less noble but more real. love> embryonic, ****** goth (at last!)
baby drips forthright into pieces, ***-lunged in the afternoon sun from windowlings- useless. head-lolling and good
enough.

we
get up
go out. find new things to define us.

sugar-milk wants to. knows best. gets rest. spoon floating. doves drink.


don't pray.
society is disgusting.
self-preservation has always been vile.
i am filthy with less than these.

and now we are__

Normalcy is the new Punk.
destroy from the inside, baby.

get me somewhere.







/

We imagine ourselves among the dead, the dying, and the monsters that inhabit those spaces
As a way to feign immortality
In that we are comforted in the temporary untouchability of our placement, just off screen.
Or
Rather
In the shrinking down, to the screen, itself.

the saltpeter sea may yet swallow these
black-sailed ships

bleak obelisk .
reduce the risk.

and
swim.











[the power of i don’t know :  to the wielder, feels a burden - but serves as everything that keeps us from falling into Hate.]

Lost time
And lost to time

Measure me next, without the
Sun.


I am not yet the wake of air through the tussocked expanse//

Nor, the jazz-beat of her rain clamoring to disrobe that which is made modest by soil-cover.


Sky-wheel tithing .
Bluestone plaything.
Sight-line, leaching .

cradling a torn architectural drawing of the universe.
the sea spray can’t reach us here,
nor the rolling breath of the low clouds raking in and out of the dark-scaled pines atop the cliffs’ edge.
it’s a moonless night-world
at the brink of dissipation .

it’s a world-less willfulness that holds us back from restoring our sight-hounded hearts.

it’s a breakfast served up for something older than kindness,
we - the complimentary condiments of a finely set table for an ill pantheon.

even if things get better
           -even
       if
             they
      get good,
we can never be the same.

even if i can reach a point when i can say "i love you" again, (which by the way i still do- even though mostly i wish i could stop.)

it can never be the same.

even though no mater what happens, i'll still care about you for some reason- and i'd never wish you ill,
it will never be the same.

your name upon my lips will never be quite as special.


don't take comfort in any kindness i extend.
that's just who i am.
how i'll always be.
i'm still taking everything in slowly.

i never yelled.
or called you names.

not yet.

though i don't think i would- don't think i could-
that's not who i am.


i've tried so hard.

i wish that you had tried just a little bit harder
- a lot harder.
it turns out you really didn't try very hard at all.

it shouldn't have been that easy to bury 4 years of me giving you everything i ever could and more.
-for the love of god, you were the first girl i ever kissed.

that was in highschool.
that seems like a long time ago.

i feel old.

i can never be the same.

that reflects the light flashing off pale
fingers_
like glimpses of wet noses
in the looming underbrush

wet, hungry noses .

wind-rustled world.

sights and sounds
no longer .

And no matter how hard it comes down,
It never comes close.
Then, summer meant something other than sweating.
Then, we ran the abandoned shoppingcarts through pothole oceans on the side street behind the mall.
Later, she changed out of the wet clothes and came out pantsless in the oversized Sweatshirt that would define **** forever.


(With damp hair still clinging to the back of her neck)


And if all the sad anime teach us anything : It’s that when things change, they can never go back

All aggressors think themselves, the
Victim.


We battle now for the center of the human
Heart

We find ourselves lost
At first,
Beside the newly widened
Outer
Walls

Theseus ,
Theseus .

But the Monster always arrives
Here
First.

and the songs are as hungry
as their calibers
allow.

It’s a new kind of spear://with a
Handle so long, you can’t see who’s
Holding it.

It is a tool for a crueler form of
Cowardice -

The ultimate goal of
Man.

that promises to be
sand
at the
end of the world .


water-known and
willing
- [ ] to erode
- [ ] into
- [ ] longing

To seek reconciliation in the swarm of water droplets suspended in the air around your storm-haloed head

It’s breath and thunder that keeps us .
Still lifted up in
Wonder,
Even now


In time, re will re-condense -
As always - as the natural state of things.
Always falling hard at the end of it all


To the passenger jet in the rain
We salute you, 163 lives waiting to be lost
To secure a spot
On the evening news
And all the poorly written web articles to follow

I’m getting to the thick of it
I’m
Getting
Really sick of it.

I’m going
To
Open

Up

All human emotion,
Is what we want to say.

And what I have seen is that it is always exactly what it has always looked like

Gut get good and go do some
We need it.

black is the sand.
long is the posture.

cedars are split for us_in honor of the ages that will pass before they rot
away

i wonder where it is your ****** metaphors come from
when you say things like    "she tastes like strawberries."
i am disenchanted         miscarried
by what you are trying
to say, if anything.
this
social significance of a tangy fruit ripe for harvest- tiny for your convenience.   connotations of innocence   to sensuality, ***, lips

if it is literal. evoking a certain tube of tacky lipbalm that finds itself applied tastelessly and often-

a certain perplexing exclusivity of diet.
or at least a strong penchant for the thing, that.

or if virginal.
recalling imagery of children's clothing- characters and franchises similarly swimming in the same shared canon of bad symbolism.
if you try to push us
into displeasure. violence. or grunge.
to challenge the peacefulness or comfort of normalcy.
shock us.
bring me somewhere

that would be better poetry.

i've read you like: all of you-
a thousand times from anywhere. any time
some might say the universality is its highest honor-
sign of its perfection and
truth.
it is not.
lazy.never real
long bereft of impulse
it makes you feel good because you are told it makes you feel good,
brought up with it.
watered down by it
like many other things.

devoid of specificity or idiosyncrasy
and the imagery of the DD/lg goes wayside.

though fetishist art, at its norm, becomes insular and self pleasuring
(just as fresh strawberries)
it can still be used as a tool when used to break away from expectation
as long as you don't let it become itself.
for it is just as average as anything else:
falling into a bad creepy pasta.
reading the news on a phone app.
unjustly scolding a cashier.
telling a girl that her skirt is too short at her bestfriend's father's funeral.
parents driving offspring to suicide through religion and therapy.

they belong to you.

Grid photo
yves crayola

Indigo red

Hands traced
Walls and spaces
People and things and clothes

Blue smudges on a pink sweatshirt hanging up in the diner.

Blue smudges on the  darkwood paneled wall of a trailer

Blue marks on a window in an old building , papers littered amid  the cross-beads : cardboard cut-outs and
Flyers for events long passed

On a couch cushion, in a basement, where friends were

On a box of treasures

On a blanket on the ground

/
On a  greyed picket fence, with planks pushed through

Against the faded grass of a desire path

On chain link and locks above the bridge

On door and cabinet handles on the inside - glass and brass

On door handles on the outside - composition, unknown

On the dusty, lace curtains of the backyard door

On the bins in the attic, full of seasons

On the bins in the driveway, refuse

On my heart, and hope to

[full blue handprint visible over left breast - whereas other marks were more fragile, cursory, and accidental in pressure ]

True
Ghosts

Are the cared-about things
That you never knew to take (with you / care of.)


The lonely, yet fulfilled margin-scratch
The rope-less tree  
The tree-less yard
The yard-less home
The home-less mind

Imprints on human time.

was right .

the front door open.
the dogs not barking,
slapping some wet skinned faces in front of everyone,
wishing i was a broken bottle
or something.
there's want of a forest in my yard
-the whole world softing out:
action dust; to the girl that screams:
there's no such thing as sinners, there's no such thing as love, there's just people and what people do,
whole forests of paper feel your words.
           sincerely,
                            we're all just crazy.
sweet dharma dewdrops fell off the tongue of the clean-cut kid.
he had soapy teeth and no shame to speak of
and when he spoke to us, his fingers glowed
because.
did you think that words could do more than arms-
and that anything else alone could do more for you than a full bodied embrace.
and
i looked at the rose you had buttoned on your blouse and i tore it off and dashed it upon the ground
because of
the mist
and the yellow billboard
lit up softly like a wheatfield
and frost was setting onto the long blades of crisply dying vegetation.
and there is the matter of those ghosts in the parkinglot
unaware of the cars that skid by full of people, all with capacities to know and be known-
sometimes i wish i could tell them
that it's okay to reach out with soft red fingers, wet from running water, warm from hot running water rinsed
over our hands to bleed out the chill that leaches into our too-thin fingers on cold nights such as this.
meanwhile-whole forests of bright white paper
i think that if i ever found you,
it would be walking on a road next to blueberry blossoms-and close, dry
thicket branches that crunch swiftly sometimes-and slowly, others- behind our heels
and hands shaped like mantras gesturing towards us from trees- telling us to go this way, and that,
welcoming us with their imperfect notions of morality and telling us that everything was going to be.
light a match on the bathroom window,
take one step closer to breathe in the bad-handwriting of the graceless morning. put one foot forward on the floor-
one hand on your temple.
only time will tell
if this is hell or just a special hell for me and you
choke me in the white-noise drone
of the shower.
push against the vitalities of my neck-
offer your hands around my faltering voice.
tell me about the pharaoh.
and the legless learners of passion.
tell me that you need to fall forward onto your face just to remind yourself that you're alive.
drum against my chest imperfectly with your
fingertips.
the unskillfully applied paint on your nails already chipping off- (you do this thing with your thumb and
forefinger as a nervous habit and always ruin them.)

the sun come

i trace over my neck with cartridge-blade razors
-rip away the stubble like peeling off snakeskin shadows.
snow falls
dusting my eyes with the harpsichord sounds of porcelain.

there is no longer bitterness nor sorrow.

brain bombs obliviate_all signs of life in the city sqs.as all god-oid methods live on as a convenientandeffectivethreat levied bysquabbling heirs to her cold multitude of rancid throne-rooms/do you want to survive?
        the slow-panting dog shadow leans in closer, still,
/learn to dance the night.  … .. ….. … .. .. .. .

sleeping predictably, the city is at last disemboweled in favor of a new and ****-less being -
   all parking spaces, finally free.

she breaths right down the middle.
swings low to the ache of percussion,
and palpitation.
.
she said I should have been a painter.
maybe she was right.

sharing a subway car with neonazis
i hesitate-
having gotten out of work early for the first time
in a long time;
one ear left uncovered by the wireless headphones. on
the opposite side
the old man in the body cast and crutches
the young man., ,fat and bald.
talking about sin.
and what its like to be irish-catholic
in a boston that doesn't recognize them as god any more.

,covers the other ear after a few minutes to hear the full sound profile of my song/
i have decided that they have forfeit
their privilege to live

the sailor-scout of your head against    m  i  n  e  
              fades into silhouette
(like something    good )
your brow  is beating better than the oscillating fan sounds
   that
we think of in moments like this..

learning that ******* is beautiful
when lies are shared

--the [****** ]in her breath presses skin outwards

.slipping off like goldtone wristwatch
like.flipping through polaroids of people you don't know anymore.


the best is over as the bra is unhooked and falls to the floor like a bad parachute
.
as if it could
slice through cities


you shoot a look as
bulma thighs bounce
like dinosaurs in the forest.
a long pink shirt
is enough to **** them

.reclaiming history through ******-death
one pink imprint left behind at a time.

focus on the clouds
it is better if we don't know what happens to the marks

i think future history will show PewdiePie as Marcel Duchamp
and the ideas curated will be
something.

our children will **** themselves in the hundreds of thousands
because of (what) you (are)
.and you will think of it only as cleaning up.

**natural selection favors
                         the beasts

there is something i knew once
but barely
and on my good days,
i spend the whole of my life trying to relive
or,
.
and in museums
and in thrift shops
in **** sites
in blogs-
strange charity exhales,
slender tendril figurines. come out licking the music about the edge of
your mouth.
so that it might be told
but barely

it’s a breadcrumb world out there
and we are hungry in the woods

i wait beside the echoing pool
you trace out the lost path dripping down your thigh like a map
throat open and maw-ful
throat full and maw-open

lung fire
feeding on the wilderness .
belly-hot-want

our roots are :
/delvers
/divers
/descendantary.No


forests become obfuscations for removal :
[lost] is landless now
and a new animal arrives
it feeds on our  l o n g i n g  .
until we are starved and treeless•gut-ruptured full of promises


i roll you back onto your side
cheeks flushed_but cold

[do not hold harmless that which harms us]

c.

there are no white
chalk portraits on the wall like we used to
draw : bukowski, haruhi, and the ghost
line symbols.
but it's
the same orange vespa-knockoff sitting
on
the other side of the fence -
thesame withered brambles reaching out
beside the train tracks and dripping with water that
will
soon freeze. and bend them down to the
brown . earth . .
i am bowing too, .

w/out reverence
w/out  hitting the cue


i mark where i stood in microscopic pieces
of the bottoms of my shoes only
i go unheeded .as of yet

it will be
  the same as not at all .for most


these mornings are
  Flowers.

.


there are only two types of socks in this world.
those that get shrunk, and
those that get stretched out.

life, like laundry
is about adopting the best practices to hold out for as long as
possibl e.
you gotta fight the nature of things
to
remain


.