when he sings
he is me

or that is what
I think

they could be
my words

he sings

they are my
feelings

I feel

or that is what
I think

when I listen
to him sing

he knows
my pain

he is smart
and lonely

he is raw
and naked

or that is what
I think

when I listen
to him sing

if I let go
I will fall

and no one
I know is

strong enough
to catch me

it happens
and sometime

later we notice
we left

where we were
and it feels like

we can’t stop
and even if

we did

we are so
far away

we could
never climb

out and get
back to

anywhere near
where we were

we start to
remember

the voices
warning us

the voices
we couldn’t

hear when we
started to fall

when we didn’t
know were

falling

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.

early morning

rain is not falling
but I stay inside

take a long shower
and imagine I am

falling forming
drops not flakes

in the middle
we are all the same

one step from
what came before

one step from
what comes after

I do not dry myself
letting the air

absorb me
pull me into

the cycle that
creates rain

the one we learned
about in middle school

what came before
is part of what is

and what is will be
part of what comes

the morning
lingers past

noon

blankets feel
like skin

nothing comes
to mind

I drift in
and out of

dreams

eventually I
feel something

scratch an itch
and get ready

to start my day

sheds
everyday

we are
different

beings

in so many
ways that

we don’t notice

we are
always

becoming

perhaps if we
could notice

the changes
we could

more easily

forgive ourselves
and each other

I found this band

from Germany
this electronic

sound

this beat
beating me

I would define
incessant

as their sound

they are hypnotic
they are religious

like old school
religious

like memorizing
verses

and not knowing
what they mean

and reciting these
verses in a group

feeling all
in a moment

releasing me
becoming one

a chain of days
without change

air becomes
an enemy

of lungs

we cannot
sweat

everything is
already

water and wet
nothing evaporates

everything is
heavy

movement is
slight

by necessity

oh! such a mystery
we want follow

but it disappears
inside of us

away from us
it is a carrier

of so much
if only we

could disappear
with smoke

only appears when

searching for
satisfaction

touching everything
it meets

saying life

is luscious
spilling over

it is too much
it needs more time

to explore

I love to play with words

small words and
not that many

I think it
makes it harder

and I have more fun

to use less of them
to use the simplest
of them

to find ways to

to connect these small words
in just the right way

to say what I have to say
to release my voice

the magic is in how
they are connected

ask any great designer
it’s not the materials

it’s the connections
that bring something

to life

exists in everyone
we all belong to it

we all wear masks

the mysterious
machine operates

without orders

we muck through
our swamps

trying to make
sense

to make
it common

to tell each
other we

understand

but we can never
tell the whole truth

about ourselves
not even to ourselves

because we don’t know it

in Greenwood, Indiana
mid-winter

wind blowing
across the
flatlands

a car wash
across from
a giant mall

lines of cars
waiting

me with
white towels
in my hands

trying to dry

off the cars before
the towels freeze to
my hands

and remove skin

for sixty hours
a week

for $3.35
an hour

and maybe a tip
(not usually)

there is so
much hope

in the strength of
pointed toes

the movement
of nature

so pure

as it prepares
itself for

a spring
toward the sky

she bends herself
into new shapes

and then leaps
freeing the

energy of the sun

turning nature
into art

deep breathing
a thought

like an ant
leaves a trail

we can follow
but like a stream

it will never
be the same

each time
we enter it

I am ok
I am ok

who comes
first

the question
or the

answer

life is
never

as simple
as it seems

is the problem
looking

for a solution
or does

the solution
need to

find a problem

the answer is
yes

I was young and jumped
with both feet

into new ideas

into forms
I didn’t understand

someone wanted me
someone promised me

something big

and I don’t know
that I really believed them

but I was young and
while not dumb

I thought
why the hell not

anything is better
than this

It is killing me

I cannot touch
anything

I like to walk
the streets

and feel

rub my hands across a
coarse brick wall

scratch my skin raw

trace my fingers over
the smooth words

of a street sign

grasp a thin handrail
and lean back

almost losing my balance

wipe the drips off
anything after a hard rain

it is killing me
this staying clean

you ask me
questions

test me
confident

in your own
intelligence

&

awareness
of patterns

but you will
never

understand
the day

we actually
emerge

from our
mechanical

cocoons
your old eyes

will never
see the

difference

and I sit in the warmest
place on earth

on a wooden bench
outside a cafe

where each day
at a specific time

the sun focuses
all her powers

...

sipping a latte
wearing shades

I feel like a star

I am in a room.  the door is closed.  then disappears.  the windows are boarded.  shut.  then disappear.  the walls start moving.  closing in.  then disappear.  people appear as a mass.  their lips are moving.  but they say nothing.  I am searching for a face.  that feels familiar.  I disappear.

I am in another room.  it is a cathedral.  my imaginary man appears.  hovering above me.  covered in a golden robe.  he speaks to me.  his voice is thunder.  his words are ancient.  he is my master.  he is my god.  I disappear.

I am back. in that other room.  the people reappear.  they become trees.  trees made of paper.  one piece of paper.  a forest of paper trees.  my arms are elastic.  I extend them.  around the world.  I cut them up.  the trees.  make them individuals.  free to leave the forest.

there are babies in the corners.  they have new brains.  filled with billions of creatures.  bumping into each other.  they are strangers.   hoping to make connections.  hoping to become familiar.  hoping to create a new voice.  hoping to create a new language.

I introduce myself to them.  but I don’t think they understand.  to them.  I am moving lips.  saying nothing.

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

mitosis
we separate

into two entities
of similarity

of species
same processes

different dreams

I sleep all day

I hide my wings
beneath the sheets

my soul is broken
by belief

in something better

the gap between
what is

is too wide
for me to jump

and I am too
afraid to fly

so I sleep all day

we live in
a house

with rooms
each one

with a purpose

we meet
as secrets

behind the
closed doors

we do not
lock them

excited by
the dangers

of the sudden
we are

excuses disguised
as reasons

we wear our
masks to

defend ourselves
from truth

believing

the mirror
never lies

life is an experiment

and meant to be
lived by learning

we cannot
change if

we do not
learn

if you
contradict
yourself

you must
tell me

that you
were wrong

that you made
a mistake

and that
you learned

otherwise I
will call you

a liar

if you cannot
accept responsibility

for your mistakes
(which we all make)

I will not give you
credit for your

successes

no one
(not even you)

can have your cake
and eat it too

do not shy
your eyes

from what
you want

do not make
me wait

I will not
look away

I am not
an angel

but I have
read the

bible I
know the

seven sins
for which

we can ask
forgiveness

if we are true
to each other

if we believe
in each other

sleeping in
a fluffy
flower bed

dripping
drowning
in dangerous
dreams

scenes of
water

falls
storms
showers

lapping
in the last
breath

waking to

the mystery
of new skin

so many young
years still

waiting
to be lived

I collapsed

at the edge
of the ocean

with my soft
hands I was

holding onto
the space

between sand
and water

I could not
let them

meet

together they
would swallow

me

abundance

she is without
shame

architecture

with precision she plans
her next move

education

she thinks
before she acts

history

she knows other
points of view

legislation

with words she
creates context

religion

still she has
her way

justice

everything being
equal

liberty

her spirit
is free

militia

she will fight
for her rights

peace

to be one
with everyone

they said
I should

never lose hope

so I plant you
in my garden

I water you
and wait

for you
to grow

I sit in
the grass

beside you
and talk

telling you
I believe

in you and
other things

and each day
when I go

to see you

you are always
there

waiting for me
listening to me

watching me grow

that one reason
humanity survived
so long is that
through being
close to each
other needing
each other
it was able to
work together
and build
civilizations
of millions

and now
it has met a
rival that
forces it to equate
“working together”
with staying away
from each other

what does that mean
for the future?

I memorize the 15 day steps.   but I don’t believe.  in the timeline.  

the trap is set.  a month or more.  in isolation.  my mind is laughing.  it is not alone.  it is a pack.  of scavengers.  waiting.  my mind is cackling.  it is not alone.  

my lips are sealed.  my voice is silent.  my hands are drunk.  on alcohol.  they are clean.  and cracked.  nothing can live.  on them.

I do not touch.  my face.  (I am lying).  I have too many.  nervous ticks.  to stop.  they are habits.  decades in the making.

even the prospect.  of death.  can’t change me.  that much.  I am normal.  in that way.  my mind is laughing.  it is not alone.

the thin man
danced

into my dream

wrapped in
elegance and
envy

his mouth opened
releasing

butterflies and
bees

flying colors and
needles that

sting with
a rush of

pleasant poison

the passion of
the peasant

he tilted the earth
so all the thinkers

leaned to his side

revealing revelations
are interpretations

and we are free
to believe

or not

sharp
things
cut

sharp
words
****

when you
speak to me

speak to me

straight
honest

use the
simplest
words

make
them
penetrating
and insightful

deep inside
of me

make them so
true that

they spread
into my cells

and **** all
my

misunderstandings

she holds my hand
when I cry

and strokes my head
gently like
a cat asleep
in her lap

she says I am
her sensitive fool

her court crier

feeling more than
I should

more than anyone should
shedding tears she

can’t

her position won’t
allow it

she says I keep
her soft enough

to lead humanity

I am fall
the first

bite of
knowing

noticing
asking
taking

exploding with

the sensations
of hunger
and thirst

not belonging
to anyone

leaving with
nothing

but all this
time & space

to fill

he was lost
in an old forest

young wolves
circling
smelling

his desperation

he spent years
building

his fortress
of thick skin

that nothing
could penetrate

that nothing
could escape

in this old forest
he was rigid

his cold
lonely body
shivering

unable to feel warmth

the drum holds
everything in place

the room
is dark

at least the
room in my

head

you don’t ask
them to enter

they don’t care

they force their
way in

and take up
residence

for as long as
they choose

and when they
finally leave

they leave
something

behind

the drum holding
everything

in place

the night is late
the liquid is rich
the smoke is thick
the lights are low
the sounds are deep

the words are
soft and smooth

and she is…

a slow dance
a last chance

and I taste
the new fruit

plump and ripe

just begging
to be bit

I place the
whole thing
in my mouth

I linger on
the sweet
taste

of the flesh

between my
sharpest teeth

letting the
juices
drip

down my
cheeks

til my
shirt is
soaking
wet

til there
is nothing
left but

the pit

I spit
it out

and walk
away

satisfied

humans are not machines

humans are not angels

humans are not gods

humans are not demons

humans are not monsters

humans are not whole

humans are broken

look at me

look in your mirror

what do you see

there is rain
in my brain

a thunderstorm
of words

freaking
fracking
crackling
cracking

starting
fires

I cannot
extinguish

asking
questions
giving
answers

in the same
sentence

who is you
and am I real

and what
in the world

is the big deal

truth is immortal
it can be buried

but it will not die
you are mortal

so you may not
have to face truth

but your history
will be changed

when truth rises
from your grave

I am a silvery pill
consumed by her

compressed chemicals
dissolved by her wet

released into her cells
and spreading

past the ephemeral
racing to what matters

exploding into colors
she never played with

before

she is a hand puppet
leading a holiday parade

of mayhem and laughter
of material destruction

seeing past the ephemeral
racing to what matters

does it leave fast
or does it

linger in place
soaking in

everything
one last time

will I feel it
leave and

will it take with
it the memories

of me

will I hear it
say goodbye

will I know
where it goes

and will I care

as you have grown
you have grown on me

accepted all the
sticks and stones

and the hurt
hurled at you

and remained strong
or grew stronger

I can feel it
in your sounds

I can hear it
in your words

true beauty bends
but doesn’t break

and maybe someday
I will shake it off

like you

I love the
way it sounds

so many
syllables

it is more
than a name

it is musical

it plays
with my
tongue

it begs to
be sung

I wish I
knew someone

named penelope
so I could

sing it
everyday

a place called nowhere

creatures looking
for sin gather

circle each other
smell each other
taste each other

the air is thick with sound
and tight leather wears itself

the little birds are quiet
they perch on

their stools

wanting action
too scared to act

they move as if
they want to dance

they are trapped in
their own heads

some of the creatures
find what they are looking for

others leave alone
the little birds pick

up the scraps