the little ones
we are young

asking simple
questions

of each other

exploring
experimenting

with words
we are still

learning

we don’t know
what we

don’t know or
what we are

supposed to know

we have not
been buried

in a mountain
of shoulds

so we play
the natural way

we sit.  on a branch.  of knowledge.  investigating truth.  we hold hands.  we kiss.  we laugh.  we create.  a philosophy.  a shared way.  of being.  a religion.  with one doctrine.  everything we believe.  
is open.  and free.

there are these people who see.  more than others.  they are blessed.  to know more.  they go.  deeper and wider.  in space and time.  to see.  and they feel.  every moment.   as if it is new.

there are these people who see.  more than others.  they are cursed.  to be alone.  not completely.  just partially.  so some part.  of themselves.  can never be shared.  

not that they won’t share it.  but it can’t be shared.  it can’t be expressed.  by them.  in a way.  that can be.  understood.  by others.

but they try.  they will spend. their lives trying.  to bridge the gap.  in whatever form.  they have.  to express themselves.

I think about her.  anticipate her.  expect her.  to be with me.  take her for granted.  not out of disrespect.  more.  like a breath.  or a heartbeat.  where my life depends.  on her.  am I asking too much.
to be with.

isolated time
has less meaning

the clock strikes
and does not get

my attention

I have no
appointments

so I cannot be late

the alarm has been
laid off

like so many

and I wake
past midnight

and sleep past noon

I cannot
shed my
skin

the ***** cells
are clinging
to me

they are
supposed
to become
dust

but they
have decided
to remain

and build up
and weigh
me down

so I don’t
feel like
doing

anything

they are
supposed
to leave me

at least
daily

so I can
feel clean

and be
renewed

instead of
lost in this

old mattress rut

he feels
himself

deep
inside

the devil
he can’t

express

the truth
he tries

to destroy

it is a
whack

a mole
popping

up

in so many
places

he will
destroy

them all
to not

reveal
the truth

he will
destroy

the world

as he tries
to hide

from the
truth

about
himself

went for
a walk

in these
dangerous
times

intending
on stopping

at Rite-Aid

hoping to find
some things

I need

and there
it was

one lonely eight
pack of

toilet paper

just waiting
for me

I picked it
up smiling

walking to
the register

feeling in
my empty

pockets

shiiiiit

went home
came back

it was gone

I guess

I have to drive
around tomorrow

looking for my
lost treasure

she lights
fires in

simple men

we don’t ask
for much

just a touch
of sin

we can be
your afterthought

just make us
feel real

the moment

you light
the spark

art is
blood

we cut
our
souls

on purpose

sometimes
it trickles

sometimes
it oozes

and

sometimes
it spurts

and always
we create

these scars

we heal
but never

hide

we follow the wet
into the wilderness

we collect raindrops
on our tongues

and hold them
as long as we can

we savor nature
she is our mother

we dip our heads
in cold water streams

and wait until
we can’t breathe

we love the color blue

sharp pains love
like knives

and broken
is the stain

we leave
behind

I cannot
speak words

there is no
separation

in the sounds
I feel

whimpers and
moans and
screams and

silence is

all I have
left to say

up the sound
I am disappearing

into the harsh waves

travelling between
dimensions

with the speed
of speed

feeling like

a rubber ball
bouncing

between sounds

am I a particle
or a wave

am I dead
or alive

don’t look in
the box

one scream
two screams

we all scream
for *** dreams

I study the
human world

the world of
artifacts and

artifice

we are the gods
of the artificial

creating a lot
of things

a lot of
individual
things

and we use
a lot of
resources

to create
these things

and sometimes

we stumble upon
things that work

if only we learned
how to learn

we could be so
much better than

this

the enchanted land
sweet fairy dreams

and soft ice cream
all sound is pleasant

and all people are
peasants

sharing the land
with each other

growth is measured
in understandings

and we listen
to each other as

if we have two ears
and one mouth

and all humans
live as if

they are humane

I told you I was alone.  you thought I meant lonely.  so I left you.  
to figure me out.  but you didn’t.  really care.  that much.

so we were even.

she said I want to live inside you.  in a way that made it clear.  
she was jealous of my home.

I do not sleep.  without help.  the help.  makes me.  dream.  so I am.

entering dreams.  that hide their truths.  and I cannot question them.  when I am in them.  

one night.  I dreamed of struggling.  
against something.  then.  in the same dream.

I dreamed of peeing.  waking up.  thinking I wet.  my bed.

I did not.

the emperor
gangland prince

standing above
looking down

spreading arms
as if he owned

the world
surrounded by

all those who fear
looking down on

and all you did
and all you said

rest once more
sweet prince

sleep beneath
your canopy of evil

and wake with a soul
feeling

all you deserve
for what you’ve done

all the little ones
spread like love

across the planet
tickling bare toes

scratching an itch
we all have

clean people try
to destroy us

but we were here
before them

and will be here
after them

spreading

the power of
bleeding knuckles

love/hate

a wail
a scream

almost
silence

a heart
beating

syncopation
restoration
revenge

a piece of the
beast lived in me

he didn’t know
if he defeated me

he became vulnerable
and I would live

a little longer
than him

o’ mine

the first time
he screamed

in my ears

I was in the Navy
in port for a bit

drinking with friends
he put the cassette in

and we drove

up a hill just outside
Oakland

parked and looked
over the city

I wasn’t from
a city

so that kind of
scene was new to me

we were just a
group of friends

hanging out drinking
enjoying not being

at sea

it wasn’t the music
I usually listened to

but it was something about
the way he screamed

that spoke to me
at that time and

at that place

saying something
about

who I was
becoming

I think

there must be
something living

in me
a source

of all I have
to say and

I wonder

if I was to
find that seed

would I dig it out
to understand it

or leave it buried
and let it

continue to grow

barefoot I would
run along the

railroad tracks

see how far I could run
without falling

got pretty good

at this time

they were mostly
abandoned

the railroad tracks
where I lived

mostly used for
factories that

weren’t there
anymore

my grandfather
and uncle worked

on the railroads
most of their lives

repairing them

when it was
manual work

handheld tools
and brute strength

they were not
large men

old school
Italians

weathered and
strong-willed

the railroad
tracks

were the
place I would go

to get away

I could walk for
miles

and see no one

seems to be

the basis of
every faith

transcendence

conquering
this life

the magic
of belief

we crawl
and learn

to walk

we walk
and learn

to run

we run
and learn

to fly

we fly
and learn

to transcend

we transcend
and…

this night.  he watches me.  he stops me.  I cannot speak straight.  lines.  I slur my words.  I am chemically enhanced.  I change the color of rain.  with a snap of my dragons.  breath.  the world is.  on fire.  and I come.  through the flame.  untouched.  everyone claps.  creating a wave.  of emotion.  in me.  I want to cry.  purple tears.  like blackberry juice.  I open.  my mouth.  and speak.  an acceptance speech.  my words are.  readable.  in the air.  you like me.  you really really.  like me.

he stopped in

the middle of
the street

looked at me in
my mask

hands at
his side

and made a
loud noise

ahhhh…choooooo

pretending to
sneeze

I guess he
thought he

was funny

the machines have stopped
the music can be heard

but don’t dance today

ballerina
the air can’t hold you

without all its pollution
it has lost its weight

haven’t been
to church

in a long while
not much I miss

but one thing is
the hymns

sung by the
truly truly faithful

not much of
them but

when you hear them
when you see them

sing

it is truly spiritual

we are our
family’s rubble

they call us
double trouble

the dynamite twins
the cockroaches

only we survive
our path of destruction

people like to say
we mean well

it makes them
feel better

but we don’t
mean anything

people need form
and definition

not us

we like to keep
you busy

give you something
to put back together

to repair
to fix

a clue to follow
a puzzle to figure out

a mystery to understand
a problem to solve

there he is again
dancing in my brain

he jumps so high
and tries to hide

the skinny boy

always running
playing games

taking jokes
making jokes

getting into fights
he mostly lost

but he never quit

and he could be quiet
and he could think
and he could cry

I remember him
he was so silly

the skinny boy

I have not
learned to ask

in a way that
says I own my

needs and wants

suppression
squeezes
secrets

pain waits
in every crack

something is
bound to explode

I smell like
spaghetti

not a neat
eater

I always
dig in

face first
and slurp

with my nose

I push the
meatballs

aside to
play with

later

it is a meal
fit for king

I think
before I sleep

trying to
influence

my dreams
to give me

answers in
those mystical

night creatures

those lynchian
stories

that have no
beginnings or

endings

that make me
sweat and

wake up
drenched

feeling like
I learned

something
important

but not
knowing

what it was

it exists for its
own sake

not for others
and those who

seek it for its
own sake

spread their
disease to

others for
their own sake

I am not
invisible but

I do not take
up much space

or sound

I like to leave
room for you

whoever you are

feelings can be
subtle if

you let them
they have a

lifespan like
a dandelion

flower to dust
then disappear

will the young
lose their memory

in their machines
can their machines

forget or is erased
the same as forgetting

is the nature of
knowing changing

what is the source
of an idea

and where is it located
will we all be implanted

or have we always
been implanted

is innovation alchemy
and what are the

ingredients

do we know our
own recipes

can we recreate
ourselves

and become our
own young

some tears
fall inside

sight unseen

softening
the soul

preparing
us to be

remade

be not simple
say not what

you mean

so on her toes
she will remain

not knowing
who you are

not knowing
what you want

you cannot be
understood

so that you mean
nothing to her

humans hide
from each

other

cannot play
tag or touch

wrestle or rub

they will avoid
each other

to live

rats race on
the empty streets

frenzied for food

they will eat
each other

to live

those living
things

living deep
inside

sleep most
days

and most
nights

only come
alive

when you
walk by

and say hi

lay down fresh
soil in a bed

plant a seed
and watch it

grow

each drop is
nourishing

it first presses
against soil

then emerges

as a slight form
expanding

up and out
ending as

colorful sweet
smelling petals

protected by
long dangerous

stems

I lick a thorn
and make a wish

I was a leftover
the end of the road

they did not make love
when they conceived of me

maybe he was drunk
maybe she was sad

and lonely

missing the one
she lost

nine months before

it was a different time
a poor man worked

for whatever he could get

and a poor woman
had a duty

maybe it’s not a
different time

for the poor

the early world
detached

in chaos there
are no limits

no lessons
learned

and shared

there is such
randomness

in connections
and there are

no deep roots
to hold us

together
to ground us

we are prone
to shock

to get your
attention

to see our
loose wires

and fix them
before they

create damage

I have his picture
postcard

on my refrigerator

a bit creepy
his picture

and maybe having
it there

black and white
troubled face

a frown

long forehead
big bowtie

deep set
piercing eyes

it’s just I
owe him

learned so much
from him

how to express
myself

learned it is okay
to be dark

sometimes

it was a month ago
I saw you

face to face

the day you ate
a cheesesteak

with onions

I remember
your breath

time doesn’t fly
but it does progress

memories fade
but they don’t
disappear

I hope

I am alone
in this house

and the walls
haven’t moved

yet

I am not hearing
voices not even

my own

maybe I should
get a pet

first day

sits up straight
hands folded

on his desk

looking straight
ahead

the bell rings
he is quiet

ready to listen
he hears the

whispers
around him

he is not
tempted
by them

they do not
disturb him

he knows his
limitations

he can only
focus on

one thing
at a time

and now

it must be
the teacher

we live as numbers
waiting to be counted

to become part of a
formula

that tells us what to do

we do not want to be
a remainder

a leftover
a piece of pi

that no one can
remember

oh science!

your job is to
understand

but you do not
understand me

you have made me
in the image of others

wanting me to be
the image of you

thinking you
understand life

you have taken
life apart

and collected it
in multiple pieces

that you think
can become a whole

believing you
only you

can put them back
together in a way

in whatever way
you want

that you can create
not from scratch

but from the leftovers
of others

oh science!

you are not a god

your job is
to understand

but you don’t
understand me

I am not always
an animal

the moon eats
and eats

until it is full
pulling something

out of me
I can’t control

I tried to fight it
but it forces its

way out

it needs on
this night

to live
to ****
to feed

on fresh meat

until it is full
and the moon

is fasting

it descends
inside of me

as the moon
begins its feast

until it is full

I love words
when they are

handled with care
to nourish and grow

…empowerment

I hate words
when they are

used as weapons
to crush and destroy

…enslavement

I have seen
your garden

delicately
maintained

I have walked
through your garden

carefully

admiring the
colors

absorbing the
fragrances

I lean down
toward your

prized flowers

and kiss a rose
to show you

I am not
afraid to

bleed a little
for love