Young people
really feel
a lot of pain
as do older people
who have more time
to get used to it,
and I have found
that I always hurt
and the best I can do
is to sit in a chair,
even sleep
is painful
and I think
that everybody else
and even maybe
everything else
has this kind of pain,
like the fly
in the basement
probably has
arthritis,
and a Zen master
once said
"Even if you get
to the very bottom
of Zen meditation,
there is still
suffering"
so oh well,
no pain,
no something or other.

love is the ups and downs
of natural geography,
the only two feelings
when standing in the shadow of a mountain:  

1. your iris is the northern lights to me;
​
2. my freckles are grains of sand to you.

let's be realistic,
dear.

I guess we were never
in the same place
after all.

I was going to write you something
that embodied our love, some
infinitesimal prose about
your name click-clacking off of
my tongue or your eyes
when you're smiling.

I was going to answer all of
the questions that are silently ticking
inside your mind and scrawl
perfect prepositions across the page
so that your hands might
falter as they traced the corners.

I wanted to tell you about
the tug of your presence or
the way that your fingerprints
feel against mine,

but I'm writing this instead,
listing off the beauty that I feel
seeping into my skin and
it doesn't really make sense
but that's just the way it falls
onto the paper, bit by bit.
sad things, serenade me.

I'm only romanticizing
the madness of it all.
I never asked to be
a ******* poet.

I wont be censored and I cant be stopped,
I'll be air brushed out and photoshopped.

Forgotten.

There's an energy in this youth,
Kids with blue and red hair,
The world is up for grabs,
but I wont see it,
I wont be there.

If the revolution came tonight would anybody care.

As I lay down
To fall into slumber
In a gentle land
*******
Yellow Jacket
Stung me in my hand
Tonight not insomnia
Nor caffeine
Or even the troubles I keep
Kept me from my sleep
The little *******
Hid under my pillow
Doing his best
Waiting and plotting
To steal my peace
And much needed rest
I usually keep the peace
And let nature be free
But tonight I made an exception
And I killed that ******* bee

Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you’re hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you’re flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it’s there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you

There are yellow daisies,
Two pairs of glasses,
And a watch abandoned in the dark.

There are socks strewn across the floor,
Jeans, a belt, a bra.

I am curled like a comma
Next to your heated skin,
Listening to you breathing in,
And out--
Rhythmic like the tides.

The stars have faded.
The morning light may soon trickle in,
but for a silent, suspended moment--
It's just you and me

On the cusp of dawn