I am quiet in front of the ambient lights.
Confronted among these Ambien nights,
with alluvial life, a hot bed of technical idolatry-
It is hard in the valley of the sun
the people who over-extend
self, carry impotence and
a loaded gun-
The land of geriatrics filled with frolicking snowbirds
who cast out their alcoholic offspring
to grind under gears of the economic machine.
Modern man is genuflecting in the sanctimonious pantheon of self.

I often think of Arizona
He asks what I’m thinking about
I crinkle my nose, shrug it off as nothing
But I was thinking of Arizona -- escaping.

my lips try to hold
the lingering taste

of your
love you, love you, farewell

cactus holding water
from a rainfall

that happens only once
each year

I am thinking Arizona

when you suggest
we start seeing other horizons

tumbleweeds where words should be

sandy tongue apologies

dehydrated and hallucinating

I mistook you for an oasis

Find yourself on streets,
without a destination;
cold wind blowing through,
a conversation about creation.

Find yourself in broken places,
filled with smoke and familiar faces.
Build yourself in thoughts of me,
how I sculpted you in what you wanted to be.

Find yourself in an empty house,
after midnight the lights go out.
Lose yourself in the songs we discover,
lose a friend, but find a lover.

Find yourself in the echo of my sighs,
in the taste of my tongue, in the breath of my cries.
Find yourself in the ecstasy of being,
find yourself, but never find a meaning.

i like power lines
theyre comforting
like a mcdonalds or a holiday inn
you know wherever you are the same power
is pulsing over your head. the same that lights up your home somewhere else
so gaudy and bright.

i like the way they ****** up into the sky,
their many-pronged arms reaching and holding,
connecting.

i like the Orange lights that illuminate them at night
and the way they look against early morning sky.
they are a reminder of this connection. wherever i am i am not alone. i am lit up
so gaudy and bright

Slowly, her fingers run
under the seal of a yellowed
envelop as if brushing against
his lips as he kissed it shut.

He delicately penned gentle
words, but a thousand
letters aren’t sufficient to prove his
devotion – A thousand miles not

enough to keep them apart. Once
only bound by infatuation and perpetual
poor timing, doomed to perish with
nothing but memories of a midnight

cursing the ticking second hand,
memorizing each embrace. She
refuses to buy into fate, but her’s is
sealed like the envelop in her hands.

Studying each word, running her
fingers over dried ink as if brushing
against his determined hand as he wrote.

I will not bow down
To defeat.
I storm ahead and
Won't retreat.
I am the captain
Of this fleet.

The storms may rage
Beneath my feet,
But in this race
I will compete.
I will not bow down
To defeat.