His is a cross
born of a pivot
and throw of the hip
like a dancer or
a mother lifting
her child.

Less like Christ
even in faith,
with violent intention
taking the space
of the walking prayer.

These are the arms
that fall upon bone
and through confidence;
same that shelter
their author from
those angles
he ravages.

Underneath it,
holes for air
and light
(totems of lost
meaning

like witches blood
to the wanting arms
of hand crafted
divinity).

I am lifted by
the morning's heat,
forcing the fog
from dew,
and I linger there
between earth
and mist.

Curious in contempt:

Made for
your arms,
missing selves
without touch,
before it became
distant--like
memory to age.

It could be age
that steals away
selves known
and gardens
an angry thing,
now viscous and
putrid.

It stands where
someone draped
in gold
left an imprint
in the carpet,
heavy over
flattened threads
that once
reached to heaven.

Gone like
the affection
in their own name.
Gold is soft
to the touch
and takes a form its
beholder can decide.

folly of age
not endured
but the limit
of it clear
now

respect for
idle selves,
or of waning moons
lapping at their
sightless horizon,
serves only
the sake of
itself.

petulance
was
honesty
is
frailty

patience
isn't
fortitude

as it may have been
years before.

you know too much
to act so little;
shame is yours
if you want it
(and i must have)
(would palms
run eager
to the un-wanted?)

artifice
and
nature

unwoven self
strung and dyed
and made much more
than born

by the hand,
the transparent eye.

sea bound,
ripped from the body
as new babes
from mother's chest

there is something small
and curious
and much like
a pup

it makes me
become

i become
larger

it is only as
the grass is
to the flower's stem

Our exquisite Lady of Breath and Silence,
let our blood run clear and our lungs fill softly.
Blessed art thou who shrouds us from touch
and blessed be those whose touch shan’t find me.

Forgive me, for I am a vessel,
built upon plague and unknowing.
Have mercy on us, still my hands,
and may we gaze upon the open eyes of our elders once more.

Amen.

your voice
is the floating
pennywhistle
below the wind.

behind my
eyes, I live
and lie waiting
with your
good company.

your breath
is a moon
for my tide.

my body
is a shaded
leaf
without sense
of you.

Here is forever,
Because we are so duly noted,
As members of what
The layman calls Earth,
But the preacher calls “Kingdom.”
And I call Home.

Ferocity is something unfamiliar,
And yet,
So normal.
It’s not something I tend to access,
But when I do, I really seem to enjoy the startled look on your face.
I’m much more that you ever thought to ask about.

My philosophy is one of apathy.
But, Apathy is what we must destroy.
So, I take my shimmering blade to its throat,
And with one slice, Blood fountains.
How much more Beautiful can a being become?

You and I shall be warriors,
Set on the righteous path of
Holy Destruction.
“This land is the land of Shiva,
Greatest destroyer,
And Black Kali stands above him triumphant,
She is bathed in the blood of mortals,
And yet, I see past the red stains to the tormented heart,
Of a tender wolf. “

“A killer. But, never taught different.
Spilling the blood of the innocent,
But lacking the understanding
Of the sacredity of life. “

Breathe love, my darling.
Breathe love, and exhale deadly monoxide.

Here is forever,
Because we are so duly noted,
As members of what
The layman calls Earth,
But the preacher calls “Kingdom.”
And I call Home.

Ferocity is something unfamiliar,
And yet,
So normal.
It’s not something I tend to access,
But when I do, I really seem to enjoy the startled look on your face.
I’m much more that you ever thought to ask about.

My philosophy is one of apathy.
But, Apathy is what we must destroy.
So, I take my shimmering blade to its throat,
And with one slice, Blood fountains.
How much more Beautiful can a being become?

You and I shall be warriors,
Set on the righteous path of
Holy Destruction.
“This land is the land of Shiva,
Greatest destroyer,
And Black Kali stands above him triumphant,
She is bathed in the blood of mortals,
And yet, I see past the red stains to the tormented heart,
Of a tender wolf. “

“A killer. But, never taught different.
Spilling the blood of the innocent,
But lacking the understanding
Of the sacredity of life. “

Breathe love, my darling.
Breathe love, and exhale deadly monoxide.

Here is forever,
Because we are so duly noted,
As members of what
The layman calls Earth,
But the preacher calls “Kingdom.”
And I call Home.

Ferocity is something unfamiliar,
And yet,
So normal.
It’s not something I tend to access,
But when I do, I really seem to enjoy the startled look on your face.
I’m much more that you ever thought to ask about.

My philosophy is one of apathy.
But, Apathy is what we must destroy.
So, I take my shimmering blade to its throat,
And with one slice, Blood fountains.
How much more Beautiful can a being become?

You and I shall be warriors,
Set on the righteous path of
Holy Destruction.
“This land is the land of Shiva,
Greatest destroyer,
And Black Kali stands above him triumphant,
She is bathed in the blood of mortals,
And yet, I see past the red stains to the tormented heart,
Of a tender wolf. “

“A killer. But, never taught different.
Spilling the blood of the innocent,
But lacking the understanding
Of the sacredity of life. “

Breathe love, my darling.
Breathe love, and exhale deadly monoxide.

“Hello World!”
said timid David,
wrapped in ecstasy.

“If I were to love you,
I would tell you of the flowers
That you would receive
Each February.
But, I’m sorry to admit,
That that’s not quite my bag.
I much prefer to tell you myself,
So the florist be ******.”

David wraps his arms around his arbitrary name.
Love is simple.
Why can’t peace be the same?
We must all ask why we take the sour cynicists into account.
How much can they really represent,
If they’re too busy ******* on my (your) rhetoric?

The layman would ask me to not use my own terminology,
But how can I explain this in terms other than the immortal that I hold dear?
Number 5, number 5, how you suit me so well.
You’re complete, but odd.

Estranged from his or her thoughts,
One must act with swift conduct.
I can’t imagine the consequence of a slower martial artist.

And thus, we make our way to the martial arts,
Dear Reader (that’s you, and I love you, very , very much).
But, let us ignore the subtleties of Tai Chi.
Because, I’m rather drunk, and couldn’t perform
Even if I really wanted to.
Actually, I don’t know that.
Neither do you.

This is my lament.
And my love.
Transcribed in simple English.
“Thank the Gods for *****!”
I yell, with complete sincerity!
This is newness,
Not like the monotony of burning Earth!
My tolerance is at a standstill.

Tolerance
Is what we use an excuse
To be less intoxicated that we actually are.
Toughness incarnate, isn’t it?
Dear Reader? (Much love, by the way.)

Here comes the black;
Wrapped in softer afternoons and distorted visions of God
(Or was it Godess who kissed my tender lips?)
While I waited on Earth to strike my shattered remains.
I was never one to believe in fairy tales,
But the truth is harder to hide
Than the hair from my razor.

What is it I am left with?
Hollowed desires?
Poisoned cognitions?
Absent thoughts?
Always.
There was never any other way to express my love
For the powers that be.

Am I to believe that Nothing really equates
To my existence?
No.
Refusal is my only option.
I love the way I can **** my own reality.
I love the way I can **** yours in my perception.
And mostly,
I want to love you.

Braced,
For the rough, graceful sandpaper offered
by the saxophonist while he woos you with
outright randomness arpeggiated.
The titanic soul of the double-bass
quivers my body,
it lives in the catacombs of my ribs.
And,
I'm jazzed.
Pure chaos,
with a complete understanding of order
but a gleeful disregard.
"I could do that."
Then do it.
And, exhale.

surrender little, half-kissed
i love yous
misspelled with more E's then V's
(I always, sincerely, believed
that V was the principle letter
and L was the principle sound)
and smell something simple
all around every eyelash.

course coffee tastes best
with extra sugar
and extra coffee.
make a note of that
it comes in handy during long vacations.

I'm sorry I'm so quiet around everybody
bodies scare me
every one of them is quite a lot. speaking
of a lot, remember the time
I stopped caring about
the plaid on my shirt
and we kissed anyways?

Good Stuff,

Love, Jonathan

(Sometimes I crackle,
like the sound of a pencil
        that you wanted to break
        to prove to yourself
        that sometimes it's okay to break a pencil

and I wish I could see
beyond the horizon of my own mind
        that glows with the simplest doubt
        and with the simplest fear;
        and so some wrinkles hide under other ones

disease and psychosis
are the best kind of blanket
        like the forts you made as a kid
        where you could hide and they'd find you
        but you could still not listen; if you wanted to)

I'm sorry
that I believe myself too often.
I like to float.

Kite strings are important
to me.
You already knew that.

Somewhere between
the night i kissed you
                in my bathrobe
and the current
              moments we find
              ourselves
crawling around in,

I fell in love with you.

Lovely.
Absolutely Lovely.

I aspire
            you achieve

We work well together,
yes?

I wish I could breathe
in free poetry
It'd make it easier
for me
to pick locks with
diamond corkscrews
and drown my veins
in the sea

I never chose to be
a prophet
Lucky for me that
I'm not
and I'm too busy
shooting dynamite
in an overcrowded
lot.

I don't believe in
Angels' rib-bones
or self obsessive
killer whales
I only picture
sonic-boom clouds
and some lucky
monkey tails

Hey there, kid
look in the mirror
You've got some gerber
on your face
"wipe it off
with my corset"
said the Queen in
all her grace

The knights abandoned
all their fresh blood
and the courtesy
of blades
for the sake of a single ruby
to be run through
by four spades

I hid my eyes
from the man
who covered himself
in tattoos
like a demonic
kind of blanket
and twisted letters
in a noose

apathetic lions don't shave everyday
or anymore
they're apathetic.
allright

people who eat peeps make me think
of people who eat
lucky charms for the pink milk
allright

bees don't sting me anymore
and i feel so
forgotten by venom
allright

someone once sang me a lullaby
i fell asleep
and i dreamed of one note
allright

to harsh consequence
and anxious sundays
and the feeling you get
right after you watch
a movie that wasn't made
with the end in mind.

some people breathe in when i breathe out
some people don't do that
some people have wrinkled smiles
i don't mind. i like it. kind of.

sometimes magenta is the best color
in the crayola box

so we sat there
wondering things like
"what does ******* smell like?"
and "who ate my chocolate eggs?"
and "are zebras racist?"

i didn't mind. i only start wars over black piano keys.

Ashtray
I'll hold this for you
let your cigarette burn
while you stare through
cool smoke
watching kool kids play
with fireworks and baseball bats
and I'll be the Ashtray
Your Ashtray
afterall: it's what I'm Good at.

Lean in
like a predator.
I could be prey
if i wanted to
I could prey.

If i were a Mantis,
i'd be devout.

A man once told me
that we
are the sum total of all of our
arguments
i call *******
i'd rather be right

**** my mind of my
own self gouging.
Bitter work.
I'm too lost.
(not lost enough).

the salt of the ocean sticks to my feet,
the soft grind of the sand and water brings comfort,
                                          to my mind; and to my eyes.

i believe too much
no
not enough
no
i believe whatever.

some things go without saying

                                                      some are said anyways
some sit;
I sit;
i have a tendency to sit
(no i don't)

if concrete were a bed, we'd be in bed.
if stars were a ceiling, we'd look at a ceiling.
(Lets go outside)(Your choice)(Let's go)(Don't let go)(I won't)
                                                  Whoever asked the question deserves the answer.

I never felt better
than when her chin was on my chest
and she peered up
looked politely
i'm glad she didn't mind
when i closed my eyes
she knew why
i'm Smiling again.

                                                                                                                              
        
                                                                                                  **kitten

Fire* is warm.
Warm like blankets.
Wrap me in
an inferno
of an embrace.
The warmth,
dances with
what I might call
my soul.
I am surrounded,
but it exists
beautifully
around me
Tongues of flame
play with my fingertips;
curls the edges up my lips
toward the sky.
*Smile.

Ecks oh ecks oh
gentle
quiet
embrace

"Whad'd ya think'n 'baught?"

Nothing.
Just kidding.
Something.


Just kidding.


i mean


you're here.
so it's okay.
okay.



And as bold as bold may be,
I still question manhood,
question certainty,
integrity,
bravado.

My feet are warm.
I have socks on.
So don't worry.
Sorry.


Don't apologize.





"you'll know when you Need to"
"I'll cue It."

We drop bombs,
that splash,
that drip,
that fall with reckless abandon.

Kiss each other,
like feathers,
like hummingbirds,
like we've been waiting.

Smiles light fires,
ignite skin,
ignite ribcages,
ignite the entirety of my skull.

Brosco sips demons,
cups runneth over,
his back snaps like a twig.

Brosco rests,
sunlight stings his wounds,
whipped by roots in italics.

Brosco stares,
and sees warm fire,
and carefully embraces.

Brosco sighs,
takes in sweet, poetic breaths,
smiles ignite his heart.

title
                     fade in

dense breath,
picked up by dull wind

lips move,
mouth something unnoticed

knees shake,
and toes play it off

"No, it's okay."
"No? Or it's okay?"

two heads turn,
one for each shoulder

four eyes dart,
two for each shoulder

fade to black
                                   scene

Godhood sickens me,
set my hands ablaze,
free my brain,
I want to cry no more,
I always had trouble holding my *****,
be an Angel.

Today I woke up,
and put my pants on backwards.
Today I sat down,
and drank coffee out of a pipe.
Today I got up,
and ripped my socks wide open.
Today I ate food,
and it sat with me like an elephant.
Today I laughed,
and my makeup smeared.
Today I cried,
and I **** near bust a gut.
Today I got bored,
and then I stopped being bored.
Today I went to sleep,
and I stopped calling it "today."
Today I dreamed,
and I couldn't move well.

Today went just as I expected.

"That's a lot of eyes."
"What, two?"
"No. Well."
"What?"
"I think you have more
      than just two..."
"What?
     No,
          I have two."
"That's not what I meant."
"Okay."
"I know
      that you know
                what I meant."
       "Maybe..."
"Don't maybe me."
"Sorry."

"What do you see now?"
"Now?"
"Right now."
     "******* everything."
"How so."
"Lots of eyes,
      remember?"
"Mmhmm."
"Well,
            you asked."
"What does everything
       mean?"
"I don't know,
       but i see it.
                                         All of it."

Get out of here.

I'll be my own **** psychiatrist, thank you very much.

I breathe my water through my ears,
and through my eyes,
so I can prune my brain,
It's not a problem.
I've been doing it for quite a while.

I am a product of
the sockets that hold my eyes,
not dissimilar to children,
and I love to exhale.
It's a pastime of mine.

Kids imitate each other,
I re-imagine,
and mimic like a mime,
like a mime,
mime.

And trust me,
I have a weapon's grade snarl.
I just seem to have misplaced it,
among my manecins,
(I comb Their hair for fun sometimes.)
(Surfer Rosa, Track 7).

They left me,
all of me,
all of them did,
dressed in a dinosaur suit,
teeth clenched,
my nerves poking my poorly laced skin.

I'm like wet dynamite,
quiet,
patient,
waiting to dry,
'till I can point at you,
and make you smile.

It gets hot when you're in the sun,
and I'm a shade kinda guy,
my comforter is too hot,
but I'm afraid
of the open air,
and my own ******.

Let me wait,
wait,
wait,
give it time,
and time again,
and I can show you What.

Pushing breaklights,
before jumping over the crown,
Taking drags,
in italics (makes us look like we down).
Slouching over countertops,
while hard water drops,
dreaming of minerals,
while the Blacksmith takes benedryl.

Receiving kicks,
from the ends of steel-toed boots,
act a champ,
he winks (we're in some sort of cahoots).
Tattooed blackeyes,
(don't wanna **** with these guys),
cool-kid-alert!
snorts lines in the dirt.

Back with a vengeance,
watching Batman and Robin,
breaks dishes,
because his headache is throbbing.
And I look and I see,
and it occurs to me,
and I forget the rest,
because it feels the best.

And, I left my dad's gun under my bed.

Brosco sits,
feet dangling
at the edge of a cliff,
naked shoulders
wrapped in sunlight.


Brosco waits,
chews the air,
spits out the clouds,
gets busy and decides
to fall in love the sun.

Brosco walks,
steps like dynamite
(boom-shaka-laka),
and grinds his teeth
like the sound of a savage drum.

I listen to breathe,
and I breathe so I can hear.
My mind dances loud.

I used to pretend,
that the blue birds that found their way into my driveway
were all my pet
(just one pet)
(they were all the same).
I called them
(all of them)
Pete.

When my cousin
played with fire
I was always left to wonder
why I got burned.
He didn't.

Mom yelled
when I hit the driveway with a 9-iron.
She clearly didn't understand
my line of work.

Monkey is my guardian angel.
Always and forever.
His tail tickles when I touch it.