numbers,
letters shifting,
changing,
transforming
the meaning at
the surface and
deeper no longer the
same

we miss and we
long for a return to
normalcy
but it has flown
and will not
return

the time switches
hours and minutes
the poem morphs
into a page

the poems changing
with the times
we hugged so long
today

the numbers,
letters,
shifting, changing,
transforming
until the original
is gone
and some new
beast is built for us
to defeat

falling back into this deadly disease
all I want to do is sleep
and now it’s 10 pm
and I should’ve been sleeping
long ago
but my mind moves too fast
to know the pain
and thus I sit here at 10 pm
music flowing from the speakers
and typing this poem to muse on my
choice

amazing

what one short
conversation
can do for your
mood

it’s also amazing

how one short
hour
can ruin any
memories of
happiness you’ve
ever
had

remarkable

how much
one
thing
can get to
you

and yet
all we can
do
is keep
marching
on
and hope the
former
outweighs
everything
else

sie regieret
uber deinem Geist

sie wohnt
in dein Herz

sie liebt
du

sie ist…
sie

black night all around me
I laugh a deep and terrible
laugh and then yawn

again,
here I am
alone at 11 pm
with nothing to do
but write and
watch tv
again

interesting how little I care now
achieving so much
and yet taking so little pride in it

I need something to bring it all back
the spark and life in this is gone for
now

I’m angry at it
but I’m not angry

tomorrow I go on vacation

perhaps I will find the fire
there

I saw a sight
of summer
today

it was a boy
riding and jumping
on a bicycle through
the grass

and in the stink of my car
and in the light of the grey
sky, I thought:
oh how I wish to run
and jump and play
in the grass

but I am too young,
life too cruel,
and the autumn weather
too turbulent to
commit to any
plans

so I drove away, wondering
where that boy went without
me

I won’t talk,
I get it,
you don’t like what I say
or me
or anything
I’ve ever
done

but you can’t say that,
I get it,
you’re a professional
and I’m just a kid
but I find it funny
I get to you
that much
so I don’t really have to do much
and can sit quietly
and write

life
is but a
slow boat,
silently
sailing on
a silent
sea

the only thing to do
is to smell the salt air
and learn to enjoy
the clouds

you are my sunshine
my only
sunshine
you make me
happy
when skies are
gray

you’ll never know,
dear
how much I love
you

please

don’t take your
love away

so deep under the ocean,
can you hear me? can you
see me? can you breath?
can you think? can you
understand? can you
tell me how you
got there? can you
talk? tell me,
are you still
there?

it was pointless to love
like the captain of a drowning vessel
still turning hard to starboard
as he stared into the deep, blue night
and charted a new course home

a neon
wolf
howls at a
xenon moon
my poems
seem so
similar
at
times

I want sleep

sleep is
easy

there’s no
pain in sleep,
no thoughts

I want sleep

easy sleep

sleep
sleep
and
more sleep

I would pay a lifetime’s ransom
for a lifetime’s worth of sleep

I just want to sleep
and that is all

waking is for the brave
and beautifully foolish

I am grim with reality

I seek something to blind me
but my hand trembles as I reach
for the bottle or the pen

I am awake to the world,
again.

eyes darting one way,
try to catch each other
when no one else
is watching,
smiling when it happens,
giggling inside our
heads,
thinking:

*oh yes
this will be
fun

if you hold up your thumb
and cover any sliver of the night sky
you are ignoring ten billion galaxies
with all their trillions of stars
each one possibly containing planets
each one possibly containing life
each one possibly holding up their thumb
and removing you from their consciousness
just as easy as that

nobody’s got
“pasts”
or
“secrets”
or
“deep, dark
hidden
lies”

they’ve just got
themselves
and
how much
they choose to
tell the world
about

the irony is that
the most mature (and
the least mature)
thing to do
is to say nothing
and let that
be

he smiled at me
putting his pointer finger
to his lips and
said
"you didn't see
anything"

I smile back,
"what's there to
see?"

"oh,
good."

I waved goodbye
to him and went
on to mop.

I stink of
gasoline,
and sweat
from hard
work, and
depression
from being
too smart
for my own
good

I look like
the down-
trodden, the
mangled
and
the chosen

hearing my voice
is torture to my
ears but entertaining
to others

I do not move
or sit still

I stink with my
existence,
long over-do a
checking in
with
reality

little black bugs,
behemoths in their
own right,
crawl across
the
surface
of my
carpet
and
ache for
just one
drink
of
my soft
flesh
before I
swat them
away
or
smash
them into
what-
ever
fate
awaits them
on the
other
side

clouds are quite a violent thing
the wind, the rain, the storms,
never creating, only destroying,
at least in the short term

but with winter upon us now
and the freezing air drives us
inside, huddling around the
fire, the clouds that come, do
not seem like soldiers, rather
like a blanket, keeping us in,
and everything else out

rushed past me
some guy
runs down the hallway

bye-bye
guy

did I know you?

you said hello
and
goodbye
so fast

but I know you,
guy,
with rush of air
that tussles my hair

I know
the fear,
the itch,
the go go go
feeling
and
I know how hard it is to
stop,
say hello,
and
say goodbye
just fast
enough

the coke machine
up on the hill,
the hill it’s been on
for forty years or
more,
reads in angry red
letters:
SOLD OUT

the coke
the diet coke
the sprite
the fanta
and
the mello yellow
too

all gone
but it still begs
for your dollar
fifty
even though
it can’t give you
anything back

the forty year-
old coke machine
up on the hill
is sold out
but it’s still thirsty
and so are
you

the world is full
of the definite

the tv sits across the room

if I go to it, hit the power
button, it will turn off

if I stay seated, bother with
the remote, it can change
channels or turn off as
well

or if I do nothing,
nothing will
happen

this is how the universe is

no tricks
no secrets
no conspiracies

even humans aren’t
that complex

they do the same things
over and over and over
and over and over and
over and over again

like stock characters out
of the text book, everyone-
everyone- does things in
a predictable and easily-
understood way

the **** will always **** the dumb-****
guy, the lawyer will **** the innocent,
and our role-models will always let us
down

it’s not new and it never
has been

so I have no sympathy
for those of you who
are surprised

and neither for those
of you determined to
change what the world
is

I’ve already told you:

this is a definite world,
of concrete, unalienable
facts

there is no place for liars
or those convinced there’s
something else going on
than what they can see

there is little place for the deceived
and the blinded

(especially when their eyes
are gouged out by their own
knife)

there is no way out of this
this time

I’m deep in the haze
of disparity,
lost in the truth
of it all

I would love to just say
hello and mean it
be happy to see others
to look at them and
see value
but I don’t,
I can’t,
I can’t fool myself
so willingly

the biggest tragedy of all
is that there’s no lying to
me

I’m a man in the midst of reality,
it’s hard edges cutting deep into
my soul, each nearly decent face
gives way to a dull and trivial
mind

I am guilty for
suffering

for hating

for the fires that eat
at my own feet

there is no way of this
this time

I have the few who (can)
understand me

and

those who love
me

most men only need one,
and, let me tell you, I need
mainly need the other

it has been a long time since
I have been around so many
people, each one with their
lives, their thoughts and ideas,
their questions, their families,
their personalities, and their
problems

walking across campus, trying
to find lunch, I enter and leave
too many lives to count and that
leaves me wondering:

what changes because I walked
across the campus today? did a
girl see me and suddenly find her
boyfriend unsavory? did a man
laugh at me, and feel better? did
a professor feel the presence of
a young soul, rearing to learn,
and somehow feel lifted?

so being around all these people
gives a new meaning to my life;
it has impact. even if no purpose

what little waves do we
never know we make?

sometimes
hearts die after
years of
caring too
much
and receiving
too
little

other times
hearts are never
born at
all

the sounds of
their beating simply
phantom rhythms
which compel
no compassion
and
look wide-eyed
when asked about
love

I am sitting
with some good
advice tonight

we’re drinking some nice beer
and he’s trying to tell me something
but the beer is too good
and my mind is too hazy
to get what he means

something about waiting
something about not jumping too soon
something about what’s best
and what’s good doesn’t come easy
and something about me being an idiot
to even chase this in the first place

but the beer’s just too good I guess
and we’ve already drunk so much

I decide I’ll listen to him
another day

tonight I want to drink with him
till my vision goes to zero
crawl into bed in a comfortable haze
and wake up tomorrow slowly

then I will do the thing I want to
the thing this good advice is warning me
against

then I will step forward,
jump to battle,
try my luck

and if my best option
was to not even try it:

I guess I’m just not one for good advice

it assaults you with
a barrage of sound

rising up out of silence
it builds greater each
second

each note comes a little faster
each lyric jumps eagerly to its place

the soul of players
the soul of listen
and
the soul of the universe
connect in that moment

no longer individual points
strewn across an infinitesimal space
now threads flowing across
and together across an even
bigger fabric

time and place meld
with each other,
people become one
long, continuous
face talking and
talking and
talking about
the meaning and the
purpose of it all
and never really
coming to a conclusion
but satisfying better
than any drink
or any drug

then the music begins
the break-
down

going from soft,
constant chords
to rapid, shifting
notes

up then up then up
then down quickly
then up again

building gravity
building tension

waiting to fall or snap
waiting to release and unleash
waiting to explode

but it never does

the music keeps getting louder
the tempo keeps getting faster
the beat keeps getting stronger
the song keeps getting bigger

then it falls apart

one instrument fades away
then another, then
another
till
all are gone

except the singular guitar
playing singular notes
trying to fill the empty souls
but they never can
and when that fact becomes
too clear for even the most determined
of players to ignore
the notes begin to slow,
the sound begins to fade,
and in the last few chords
the song barely sputters out
you can almost hear
the frustration
of all this effort
almost saving us
all

so what can I do?
an ocean away,
not even on a continent,
lost in a place where
I can only fake their dialect,
she’s there  and
I’m here
and twenty years ago
I wouldn’t even have
known

so what can I do?
my mom
makes more conversation
with her
than I do
and
we’re both in
an equal situation

what does this mean?
should I ***** it?
maybe not…
but?
no
no.
NO.

but?
what can I do?

what can I do
now?

I must always
remind myself
that the world
is not a perfect
place

lovers argue,
great days go
by without a
celebration,
and sometimes
it rains when
you could use
a little sunshine

when the thunder crackled
this morning, I saw an omen
in that

not from fear of fate,
nor from superstition

there was simply the
air of the future about
it

so I reminded myself
that this world was not
a perfect one

and what was once bleak,
now seemed a blessed gift
in comparison

I hadn’t heard her sing
in almost four years
and in that time
I had almost forgotten
how loud her soul was
when she sat to herself
and sang a song that
wasn’t really meant for
anyone

it comes down
from the heavens
or the sky
and blankets
the earth
or ground
with an evenness,
a fairness,
a peacefulness,
and we forget all our mistakes,
all the paths we took,
and we can’t see or
remember the ones
others carved.

the snow comes down,
down, down, down,
from the heavens
to the earth
or from the sky
unto the ground

snow, snow
you wonderful thing
you make all things even
and give us one chance
to fix them

I sit here,
flicking a lighter

on off
on off
on off
on off

and I like the way,
if you time it just right
you can see the tiniest
bubble of butane escape
the spark
and run screaming
into the
atmosphere

it gasps for air
freed from its plastic
prison

one tiny moment
of vigorous
effort

and then

nothing

the life of that gas
is as fleeting as my
attention

my mind so full with
terror and worry and
anxiety that it’s gone
blank

so I sit here,
flicking a lighter

on off
on off
on off
on off

waiting for a spark,
a light,
a breath of fresh
air

we,
humanity,
are standing at the
threshold
of greatness

we,
simple primates.
stare at the stars
as our ancestors did
and wonder similar thoughts
but through a different
lens

we,
peoples of the earth,
know our true potential
and seek it without our
knowledge
for we,
common life forms,
know the urges of the flesh
to grow and change
and evolve

we,
at our greatest,
have conquered an entire planet
and now look forward
at the expansion to other
worlds

yet we,
at our weakest,
destroy our home
and only seek out
the stars as refuge
from the inferno of our
own home

we,
humanity,
must make the effort
to trust one another
to remember those needs
that our ancestors had
to be with each other,
as sisters and brothers,
and use that togetherness,
that strength,
to fight off those things
seeking to erase us from
history

we
must stand together
no matter how little
each person may be

we
must be as one,
and only one,
to continue onwards
and upwards
like we have
for so many
centuries

we
will be one.
we will be the species
amongst all other species
that decided to stick together,
to be together,
to be one,
as we venture out
into the frontiers
all around
us.

that’s the difference
between here and there:
here I am alone
at night
and there
I am alone
always

I sit reading
poetry at the
lunch table
some time
in january

it’s too cold to sit outside
but I remember later that
day I did the very same
thing in protest of some
club

and this guy I knew,
knew pretty well at the
time,
started rambling on
while I kept reading
my poems

“the girl I once
loved is still there
without me”
he said

“she sleeps at night
and doesn’t think about me
she goes through her days
without a care
she doesn’t wonder
what I’m doing
she eats her meals
and I cannot”

“and no,
I don’t go about my life
fretting over her
but every time we talk,
a not-so-rare occasion
now-a-days,
I get pangs of anger,
at myself,
and pangs of doubt
too
and
I know
there’s nothing I can
or could’ve done
but I still lost
and that…”

“*****”

yeah,
pretty much
I said,
licking my finger
to turn the
page.

looking out,
grey branches grasp
at grey skies
and death sings
pleasantly amongst the
underbrush

looking up,
a breeze distracts
and pulls me towards a
newly cleared sky

looking back,
a green explosion
spread instantly across
the landscape,
the world now a painted
mess mere words are
hardly fit to
describe

there are turtles
imitating floating logs
and
shiny fish fluttering
just underneath
the water

there is a family of ducks
sunning on the shore
and
an old pontoon caked
with dirt and
mud

there are trees of many kinds
and
light glimmers
off its wind-blown surface

there are beads of sweet
on my face
and
my heart is
pounding

in a few minutes
I will see one of my friends
and
wave to her and her
dog

there is not much here,
in reality,
but
a whole world
seems to bloom in the
afternoon sun

it was our turn to be gods
to change the ways of time
to mess with the realities
of reality

it was great,
so great in fact,
that we woke
up

and never could real life
live up to what was possible
on the other side

so we spent each day asleep
and each night alive with
the life we could never
have awake

a lizard scurries up a white wall
as lightening flashed
miles away

the oldness of this city
means so little

as we approach the fort,
the furthest point
the great Spanish empire
ever reached,
I am stricken by the hollowness
of it all

the stone seems plastic
the palms an illusion

the bridge stretches across
the water, lights strewn
across its concrete length,
and the lightening still
flashes when the mood
strikes it

the water seems black,
shady, dull, brooding

it holds some deep secret
(but, for once, it is not my
reflection)

this night hurts

I wonder where I should go
with these feelings as I trudge
silently through the night

room filling with mist
beads of sweat fresh
on my skin
the adrenaline pumps into my veins
as my eyes go wild and then
shut

stillness goes through my mind
as I breath in the hot water air
softly filling up the room

no need for oxygen
no need for breath
no need for troubles
no need for care

the bathroom floor is slippery now
the shower beats angrily against the tub

steam invades my every poor
at last I am at peace

I laugh behind my grim expression

I gaze back at a boy

his legs weak,
speech stuttered,
eyes diverted from
the woman standing
on top of him

her nails draw his blood,
her feet crush his bones,
and all the boy does is
smile his nervous smile,
for he is in complete
bliss

I shake my head

I laugh behind my grim expression

this is the only
way to deal
with tragedy:

keep it light or
keep it without
meaning

the trick is keeping it within your mind,
far away from your heart

I look back at the boy

I shake my head

I laugh behind my grim expression

I look at myself
lost in Stockholm
Syndrome;

You’d call it
love

you can be stopped two ways

by giving up
or dying

that’s it
get it?

you can do anything
if you don’t stop or
you’re not shot

funnily the first stops more people
than the second does

the last time
I slept in this
bed a wasp
swooped down
and stung me
on the neck

hurt like a
*****
and I didn’t
even ****
the
sucker

I was writing,
just like now,
so I said

“wasp,
you stay up there
and
I’ll stay down here
and we’ll both
leave each other
alone”

he called my bluff
and went in for
it any way

hurt like a
*****
and I had
never been
stung
before

I was sure
that I was going
to breakout in
hives or my throat
was going to
swell shut

it was a terrible
way to spend Christmas
Eve night

now it’s a bit
different

a beautiful woman
yearns for me at my
left

my body survived
the sting but has
grown older and more
tired

the world shifts
constantly

but this room

filled to the brim
with dolls and books
and old broken-down
knick-knacks that once
had purpose to some-
one

has not changed

four trophies stand
on a shelf across the
room

one lays on its
side

a broken camera
rests about me

two dolls hold hands
on a bench

pictures of people;
some that I know,
some that I don’t

and a pair of lamps,
both shades titled in
such a way that proves
nobody really
cares

the only thing moving
is the flies on the walls
and ceiling,
and the quiet, precise
movements of a man
trying to capture an
eternity

not yet, but soon
the rain will come.

like an elephant
down the mountain,
you will hear her first
then you will witness
her true strength.

I see the light suddenly
breath caught, I wait expectedly
the sound comes and
shakes the world for
eternity

I have eaten
many strawberries
today

small and
red with
green leaves

they taste sweet
and ****
and remind me
that it is summer time
and that I should
enjoy myself

so I eat another bowl
of strawberries

small and
red and
****

waiting for the feeling
of summer to finally
sweep me away

a single,
red
leaf
hangs with all its might
to a branch outside my
window

it holds on strongly,
not wavering,
and certainty not
falling any time
soon

but it’s green brethren
hang to the tree
with the same strength
but do it with considerably more
ease
and
grace

yet that single,
red
leaf,
hanging on for dear life
as the first causality
of the impeding fall,

seems so much
greater
than those
green leaves
that surround
it
and who do not
struggle
to do the very same act
as the red
one

It’s all turning out
life feels real again
the storm was
nothing
but clouds

but the beaches are stripped and raw
and the windows still boarded
not yet ready to let
down
their guard