Humanity will fall long before we can abscond to the stars.
Our planet already shifts with this paradigm that is human,
The so-christened 'anthropocene', it will leave us
for another age/deity; Dionysus or Apollo? A Gaian
dream or the Venusian nightmare, whom do we feed?
Consuming needlessly, heedlessly, we became enamoured
with that consummation, forgetting our own Earth-Mother;
We forget nature, we forego any chance to heal the world.
Instead we'll let runaway greenhouse effect be the death
of our home, we're desecrating Hestia
and soon the hearth will burn out
and shall be forevermore cold.

Sure doesn't the madgod hunger
for an end to his own insanity!
Are we not them and they not
an aspect of our own reflection?

Carl Sagan said we'd need four things to stop this madness:
Efficient use of non-renewables, better use of renewable energy,
Reforestation on a grand scale and self-sufficiency for the poor.

She loves to drive, but fears the
Station where the machine that
Loves her needs to
Fuel up in
Peace before the
Journey
Continues.

As if the ignition is off
Forever.

In light of all the gun violence in the USA,
I'd prefer my democracy unleaded.

Delayed clock
Savio lays underneath unwashed quilts
Grandmother hand made
Savio lays with a woman
“Why are your eyes so Green.”
Savio said to her lips
She had painted them very red
and when they kissed
the lipstick smudged like a charcoal drawing outside in the April rain in Maine
“My eyes flicker green when you kiss me. When you are with me.”
Savio kissed her forehead
It was 1AM
Kansas
Down the street there is a church
the yellowish orange lights are on all night
When Savio buys 3 dollar wine
He walks to the Brick dressed yellowish orange lit Church
Pick up trucks that are thin with metal
rusted at the square gas tank
rusted at the curves of its wheels
rusted at the grill
rusted at the door handles
at the hubcaps
at the bed
at the windshield wipers
at the side view mirrors
at the belt buckles
at the radio dials
at the steering wheels
Flutter by
like children throwing rocks
like Winter
like rain at 7am
Savio sits there
drinking his cold 3 dollar wine
thinking of Mexico
thinking of the magical women he had made love too
kissed
taken out to dinner and lunches and breakfasts
thinking of Long Nights with his brother
Crossing streets with warm bottles of good beer
to Neon lit bars
to bars only lit by cigarettes and tiny radios blasting
Jazz or Rock n' Roll or The Blues or Billie Holiday
Never the news

Savio looked at the woman next to him in his bed
Her eyes were closed
He imagined her closed eye-lids as a moth
With its upright folded gray wings
night
standing underneath the warm breath of a Lamp

Savio liked The Moths
He read about them
He thought of them as the poets
as the painters
as the pianists
as the ballet dancers
as the violinists
of the insects

Savio also liked Boxelder Bugs
they do no harm
they sneak in through the cracks and door openings of homes in winter
They hide underneath sheets of poems
Van Gogh paintings on the walls
Savio woke to a Boxelder Bug on his lips once

The woman that lied with Savio
was beautiful
her clothes were expensive
her body was cruel not to touch
her life was good
Money
***
Beauty
Youth

Savio had none of these
He was handsome
His face was shaded with a few days of hair
His eyes were bright from the many days in the sun as a boy
His eye lashes were long like the docks of rivers from plucking them when he couldnt sleep
Youth was a long time ago for Him
and he sat at parks
watched the kids play
watched Summer
watched April
watched the Roses and the Trees and the Water
grow younger and younger
as He
Stood still as his fingernails grew
and his teeth yellowed by each AM cup of coffee
and each AM cigarette

Savio did not care about Money
he cared about ***, and Beauty, and Youth
yet,
did not wish these upon himself
he
Admired them
like a womans smile
like a Sunrise coasting over a cold morning with white Swans fluttering in the sky
and the Cigarette tastes like purity
and the cigarette has meaning
more meaning than Death
or Life
or being Wise

He admired the woman next to him in bed
he did not feel bad for her
or envy her

He envied on the ease of her sleep
The ease of her happiness
The ease of her
carelessness to beauty
or poetry
or music

He envied the Fools

Savio lied there
Her lips perfectly shaped like clouds
or the designs on a butterfly
or the moon's glow late at night
when the birds are dreaming
when the Dog is fast asleep
when the convict is tired
when the Sun has clocked out
24/7 Sun
like an immigrant

Savio looked at the alarm clock
3AM
the womans Dress and stockings and shoes and Bra and ******* were on the floor
along with her Class Status

Savio has always been poor
He enjoyed it
He liked long days
Reading yesterdays paper that he had found on the road
Counting the numbers of Blue Mini-vans that stop at the red light
He liked going to the park
Climbing a Tree
or sitting at a dock
letting his toes and feet prune
His skin red and the smell of dirt

He liked no Television
He liked his two pairs of pants
His few shirts
His red sweater that his grandmother made him
his pair of shoes
He had a little radio alarm clock
that he had since he was a boy

His father most have stolen it
Given to Savio as a birthday present

His Father was a good man
A bad man facing society
A good man facing his family
He did what he could to get by
He drank

Savio liked to think of himself as a good man
Though he enjoyed the Vices of life
That is why he could never be Religious
Savio was too brave to be told what to do
He was too wild to have his cravings and emotions held down by leather

He liked women
He liked Drinking
He liked cigarettes
He liked Cursing
He liked ***
He liked Humor and Thought about Death
He liked to Fight
He liked to contemplate Life
He liked to contemplate Women
Drinking
Cigarettes
Cursing
***
Humor
Death

Savio
was a good man
He kept to himself
Laughed to himself
walked to bars and parks and highway bridges all to himself

He was a Looker a Searcher a Wonderer a Wanderer

And Life
is a good place to do these things.


Savio got up from his small bed
looked around his small house
opened a small cupboard
grabbed a small coffee mug

Put on his one pair of shoes
Shined them with his old shine shoe case
that his Uncle had given him

He then put on his shirt
it was slightly aged
it was slightly *****
Tho
it was 5AM
and no one would be able too see this

He then put on his jacket
a dark brown swede jacket
it was stained at the shoulder
it was wrinkled
he had spilled gasoline on it last month
and it still had a slight scent of unleaded gasoline
Even though it had rained many times

His pants were strong
They were 5 years old
rough and thick with denim

He felt good
There was no wind being blown
His wine was cold
His eyes were clear
He had a full pack of cigarettes
and a book of matches

This time he walked to the Highway bridge
sometimes on the metal fence
there would be stale roses twisted around the fence

And Savio would pluck them off
dropping them over the highway
onto cars and 18-wheelers headed to Florida

Savio sat at the small cliff
next to the highway bridge
The grass was gold and tall
He took drinks of his wine
slowly the Headlights
turned to Taillights.

Sometimes I wonder why
I write and what the reason is
for breaks and lapses in words
and writing and why I would write
about an Elvis pumping his neon
with unleaded and myself
at the pump across the way
with my eyes fixed on this Elvis
a forty something burnout
with too many relapses
who returns my stare and says
in the most average Elvis voice
"How ya doin"

How am I doin
I think to myself
okay and think about why I write
and why I would impersonate
an impersonator in words
for my own consumption
or for the one person I will have
read this or entertainment
or just a way to get from eleven
to midnight to one in the morning

it seems my dreams
have taken over
my life
I sleep like a dolphin
with one eye open

i saw god
            in the desert
                        huffing gas.

She gets high.
I get high.
She gets drunk.
I get drunk.

I get high.
She spills sapphire.
I get drunk.
She spills unleaded.

She gets high.
She gets drunk.

I get high.
I get drunk.

I slow down for you.
I am a tortoise.

I arrange caution tape
from one dream
to another
until I'm afraid
to remember dreams.

I sit
Watching the trucks pass
These giant unleaded overcompensating
beasts, chewing the ground as they crawl past with robust swollen cancerous testicles hanging off the back
driven by children
These tiny, over privileged, unintelligible
****** bags breathing the good air, breaking the good things and replacing them with *******.

I envy them for their blissful ignorance
As they drive past, nothing on their minds
except ******* and punching.

There was once a girl who observed the little things more than a normal person would do, rather, be capable of.

She paid attention to the rhythm of the tapping of his fingers. One, two, one, one. How there will always be three lines on his forehead whenever those thick eyebrows scrunch. Her fingers itched terribly to touch his forehead, just to take away those creases. It ached her that she can’t. She will at all times notice that same torment in his features whenever he knocks on her balcony door. She knows it’s about his father, drunk yet again. She feels his pain and embraces it. She saw the innocence in his eyes whenever he passes her his cup or food and after she takes a bite, he would eat it again. He didn’t mind if his own food was contaminated by her saliva – this was the thought that would keep her awake all night. Would he mind then if they kissed? She knows his car only runs by unleaded gasoline. She love when he asks for book and song recommendations even though her taste was weird. It jumps from classical to melancholy but he was interested at most and writes down every title she says. She is well aware of how his skin gave off immortality. Whether it was just a teasing poke or a caress that means everything to her.. This too, will leave a mark. She also knows about the tattoo of his sister’s name placed below his collarbones. She came with him when he got it. She’s conscious whenever he comes across anger or how he appears godlike as usual. She appears confident but she was good in faking it. Her soul’s cores are more live than ever. And how he looks at that very girl, the one surrounded with more pretty girls. He asks if she’s okay that he would leave to talk to her. She says she doesn’t mind at all. Go ahead.

He walks to that very girl with luscious fire-red hair and twinkling almond eyes. He gives her a smile she hasn’t seen before. She feels like she’s falling. Only there isn’t a place where she’ll crash down. Just falling. An eternity of it.

The Moon whispers to her, “I chased the Sun down too. Look where we both are, defeated and insane.” His arm snakes around that very girl’s waist. She’s pricked by the thorns of a red rose. All over her body. Slowly in, slowly out. Then again and again.

Ah, the agony of the little things.

Drag me under the car she said
and I said where are your keys?
Pour me a molotov cocktail she said
and I said Another one?
Make the left eye black to match the right she said
and I said Let me get my glove
I'm cold, get me more gasoline she said
and I said Will regular unleaded do?
Move over you're hogging the bed she said
and I said Yeah, Tim give us some room
Do you have anything to bring me down? she said
and I said There's always the fire escape
I still love you she said
and I said How much money do you need?