My soul is ancient.
And it is not mine.
In darkest reaches of my heart I am told I do not own it.
I am impermanent.
I feel interminable.
My soul reaches to those around it,
But finds little kinship.
This soul and I are locked together
Out of time and place,
We are anachronisms.
You have seen us before.

Your face doesn't seem to belong there,
On your head.
A child supplied with glue,
You stuck it there.
I don't believe you when you say it was always there.

And all the dimensions of the universe have changed,
reversed,
In some kind of dream land
Where nothing can be trusted
Not your face nor your voice nor your scent.

Watch out! I say
They're coming closer,
What if they can tell.
And i study your face to see if you've heard me,
Did my voice sound out, or was it just in my head?

For now my mind has no limits
It is thrown about by a misplaced equilibrium,
Which has forgotten it's own limits
It's own basis of equality.

So I take your hand in mine,
And your hand becomes me, as I become You
and we try our best to run,
Although everything conspires against us,
And we laugh in our secret escaping.

Now,
It's been so long,
Arms branching out to you
Fossilise waiting to be filled.

The hair on the head has grown to the knee,
Changing its colours on the way down,
Bleached by the sun,
Stolen by the clock,
Left to grey.

Could the joints still move,
- if ever they wanted to?
So long frozen in commitment.

"I'll wait." - he said.

Aiming his arrow carefully,
So the two words would pierce though all barriers,
Exploding perfectly in the heart.

Shrapnel flies everywhere.
Duck and dodge the pieces of unworthy flesh!
She left. He waited.
Waiting for the time when she'd return from looking for something better.

Do it. Why not?
Let her down, let her fall into endless voids,
Where the sadness is deeper than all the oceans we ever knew.
You, who she picked up so bruised and broken,
Full of sad thoughts and kind smiles,
She needn't be your burden anymore
Leave her to find her own way out
Regardless of who dragged who into whose mess.
And she has been trying;
trying to remember what it was to be happy,
trying to release the heaviness,
offering exits through pierced skin,
swallowing the provided medication.
Sometimes she forgets,
forgets which pill when,
forgets to eat,
forgets to get out of her bed-fortress.
But I can tell you most solemnly,
She never forgets what it was to have you.

My Sunglasses

I’ve got all of Tucson trapped behind my sunglasses
I’ve framed mountain ranges in the frames of my Raybands
I’ve got reflections of saguaro’s stranding still in front of my eyes
I have sunny days taking refuge underneath my shades
I’ve domesticated the giant star that rides blues skies into walking the edge of my brow
I use black plastic as onyx shields
So Tucson, I see you.
There’s an art revolution beating at your horizon
I’ve seen it skirting around these wastelands
They tell us we’re wasting our time
Telling the roadrunner to run back home
When its nest was here since the beginning of time
Tucson.
I’ve seen folklorico and mariachi pay tribute to your origins on the hottest of days
I’ve seen in the shadows in underground art forms
Graffetti. There’s a protest in there somewhere.
I’ve even witnessed it in pen to paper
In lips to mics. In cafés in your desert nights for your desert nighttime audiences.
Tucson, your culture and artistic value shines too bright for others to see.
Your artistic worth shines too bright for others to broadcast
They tend to only record your overdoses and murders
Seems like our televised story tellers prefer to paint us in immoral reds
The only time they pay the south side attention is when the south side is aching
It doesn’t help that schools force you to choose business
Give you chance to study law all the while cut out your art programs
Fine art is required by universities but they don’t always expect you to get that far.
Tucson’s fine art is too fine and infinite to be recognized by those undeserving
Society wants to capture our southern brethren as outlaws not poets
We’re called the misfit of the desert. As if every spray can, paint stroke, choreographed twist,
Slam poem wasn’t something to take pride in.
I’m sorry they only pay your schools attention when ambulances are parked in your driveways
And administrators get caught in doing ***** deeds.
I see your talent wasted. Your talent shown.
To remind myself of your artistic significance, I’ve framed you
On walks home I photograph your murals.
Listen to the poets in the hallways.
Observe the dancers compose and the musicians choreograph
I’ve caught your reflection in my corneas’.
I’ve dilated my pupils thoughts behind my sunglasses.
Framed your mountain ranges in my frames.
Took cover in your shades.
Trained the artistic freedom and right to walk on my brow
Tucson
I see you.

Before I die, I want to write the greatest poem ever written
I want to perform it at my last slam
I want to be remembered as making words come to life
Giving stanza's room to breath, and syllables a chance to dance.
I want to lose myself on a mic stand to be the cause of death
I want to leave earth knowing I was heard knowing that I listened
Knowing I inspired an audience
When I die, do not write me a eulogy
Don't write a poem about death,
Because people are sick about hearing them
And also, my soul can not die.
When you visit my grave do not cry.
Unless they are products of laughter from remember our goofy conversations
Do not sob, instead recite the greatest poem ever
Unless it's not one of mine, then don't do it.
And laugh some more and do it any ways.
When I'm dead, don't leave me flowers, leave me haikus.
Write somebody a love poem, tell a stranger they are beautiful, and crack a joke once in a while.
When I die, I want you to write the greatest poem ever written.
And I want you to know I would of loved it.
I want you to get 8.9's and laugh '*** you know I would of given you a 10.
When I die, I want you to keep writing.
Allow me to live on through you.
Let my ghost tip toe across your poetry
And memories find refuge in your words
When I die, write a poem better than any one of mine,
And don't admit that to any one but yourself.
Take time to look at stars because you learned from me
That they are the only thing out of this world that is
beautiful
except for our poetry.
When I'm died remember the words, "I love you" and their affect
I love you can give someone the momentum to get out of bed in the morning
I love you can put one foot in front of another
I love you, before I die, I will tell you
I love you, I love you, I love you
Before I die, I love you
Don't remember the fragility of life
But the perseverance of the human spirit
I love you
There's a reason why you carried on after I'm gone
I love you.
I'm sorry, I didn't get a chance to say
I love you
Before I die.