Shortest Story

I heard a lonely voice

talking to itself again.

I love you

and you'll never 

know it.

Space Bar

Hit the 'space' bar.

 It will push you along.

Hit it three times,

   and go a little further.

Hit 5 times

     see?

Now-

keep hitting it until

there is nowhere left to
 

















 go.

First Hand Account

I can tell your from first hand experience that God
writes a little bit every day. It may be hard for you
to imagine the way time is perceived by God. You
have no reason to believe my account except to
take it on faith.

I have seen him sit down at his desk made of sequoia
and pull out parchment and quill from his desk drawer.
On the occasion he uses a pen he prefers to use Pilot
G-2 pens with the 05 fine tip because of how fine
the lines are and the minimal bleed.

The difference between when He writes versus you
on the physical plane is that He has the power to make
His words into actual reality. He doesn't do it very often
but He does from time to time. You don' even notice
when He does. It just happens.

He has also had high aspirations for all of you. He never
ceases to be disappointed at all your doctrinal in fighting.
The angels tend to take bets on how many of your will
die over religious conflict on any given day. They need
something to do on their breaks.

You may ask, 'If He can change anything at will then why
doesn't He do something about X?' That's a good question
but that's not for you to know. I sure as hell don't. Don't
get me started on Hell, that's a whole other story the Big
Guy is dealing with over here.

He's not a bad guy. Well, he's not really gendered, that's
just for your convenience. In any case, He's great to hang
out with once you get to know him. You may not believe
it, but He has such a great sense of humor. Ask him about
it sometime.

Black Is Not A Color

I do not wish to mourn for it is unbecoming
to bleed salted water from my eyes.

I do not wish to mourn because it is a reminder
of my own mortality.

I do not wish to mourn because that is not
you there any longer.

I do not wish to mourn because I can still
remember you.

I do not wish to mourn because I am still
alive.

I do not wish to mourn because according
to some faiths your return is imminent.

I do not wish to mourn you because I would
not wish for you to shed salted tears.

I do not wish to mourn because of everyone
else mourning across the world.

I do not wish to mourn because I do not
believe it is you any longer.

I do not wish to mourn because there is
much yet to live.

I do not with to mourn because my black
clothes don't match.

I do not wish to mourn because your mother
never liked me.

I do not wish to mourn because your father
was always kind to me.

I do not wish to mourn because your brother
never really knew you.

I do not wish to mourn because I am mourning
you know.

I do not wish to mourn because this is an elegy
for you and I know how you would have disliked it.

Negative Space

It's not what is
it's always what isn't.

The fixed quantity of loss
is one we try to reverse

and fail at so many times.
Absence shapes

in far greater detail the world
than any thing we possess.

Religion professes to give us
a world greater than which we

behold. Politics seeks to restore
glory which may or may never

have been. Art becomes a mirror
showing us a present that we

gaze into or away from.
Imbalance is a fragility

that we know too well.

Getting Out

Turn off the fan, it's fall for Christ's sake.
Do you know how ridiculous it looks
with that damn thing on?
Are you hot? It's not that bad,
if anything it's a bit chilly.
I don't care if it's summer somewhere
else. It's not summer over here.
You need to get out of this damn room.
Who do you think you are, Howard Hughes?
Leave your pity party and do something
with yourself. It's starting to get pathetic
with all your moping around.
I'll even give you money for gas
if that's what you're worried about.
Stop being like this- just get out.
It'll do you good.

A Short Lecture

Please, don't wait, time is in short supply.

They will say you are impatient, brash,

and impulsive-

why should these be negative qualities?

There is far too much at stake

at any given moment.

You must act, not for the sake of anyone

but your self.

This symphony is improvising itself,

it isn't worried about the score.

I'm not surprised

no when it comes to you.

I gave up understanding long ago.

It is much easier accepting moments as they

occur than questioning any logic or lack of such.

___________

You daydream about leaving

and smile.

Trembling

He tried to steady his left hand. It had started shaking from time to time recently.
He was having trouble getting over it. He had needed it, used it for far too long
to not escape it unscathed. It was in his blood, in his dreams, calling quietly,
insistently. At least he didn't have to go in to work until tomorrow. Ghosts lay
scattered across every surface of the bedroom. They could only stare back with
blank curiosity. He needed to get out of the house. On days like this he could 
barely manage to get himself in the shower, much less out the door. He was 
trying to avoid getting treatment. He wasn't some fuck-up that needed others 
to help him out. He was a goddamned man, he could do it by himself. He looked
at his phone, no missed calls or new messages. It was 10:30 in the morning on
a Tuesday. Two Tuesdays ago he would have woken up with a killer headache
and slouched into the kitchen to get some breakfast of whatever was there. He 
remembered he needed to get his laundry done today. He had to get out of the 
apartment, he needed to get to the laundromat. He hated sitting there and waiting
for his clothes to get clean. If he had the money he would just throw his dirty 
clothes away and buy new ones when t hey became too dirty to wear. He wasn't
that rich, probably would never be. He had a bad habit of wearing the same 
clothes for years until he would be forced to buy new ones after the old ones
had fallen apart and wear one step beyond wearable. At least his parents couldn't
see him now. They had such high hopes for him, especially because he was 
their only child. They were dead. They could care less now, in fact, they couldn't
care at all. He finally got to the bathroom and took a piss. He looked in the mirror
and could see how deeply the lines were carving his face. His face started to 
resemble the drift that led to the end of Pangea.  He grabbed a pair of relatively 
clean underwear and his towel and set them next to the sink. He turned the knobs
and began to calculate the proper heat and cold ratio he deemed suitable for 
a morning shower. He wet his hands to make sure that it wasn't too hot to scald
his pale skin. He stripped off his clothes and stood under the shower head. He 
raised both hands and covered his face as the water wet his hair and soaked
his body. 

A Hard Morning

His hand reached for the lever

and pushed down. The swirling

sound of water filled the room

as the faucet drenched his hands.

Eyes stared back at themselves

and adjusted. He rubbed his chin,

decided that shaving could wait

until tomorrow. She was still curled

up in bed. He had no interest in waking

her so early after the last few days.

He walked over to the kitchen

and started a pot of coffee.

Leaning against the counter

he saw that he had a new voicemail.

The pot was half filled with warm brown.

He listened to the message

and wondered if he should wake

her after all.

Unnatural Acts

Speech is an unnatural act,

writing, more so.

I can thread words together

as easily as a needle

passes through cloth.

Finding the right sequence

is paramount in any situation.

It is also important 

to know when to minimize

language for maximum effect.

Other situations call 

for dizzying displays of rhetorical

elegance which can cause no

doubt as to the skill and intent 

of the arranger. When the voice

speaks it can tremble and shake,

giving the impression of weakness

or uncertainty. When the voice

Booms and Towers it can instill

fear or confidence in others.

How great is the task that we have 

deemed language fit to carry?

Its burden is a weight beyond 

our understanding and root

of misunderstanding.

This was then.

I'm not cynical

It's just typical

It's not complicated.

Mistakes are the answers to questions you didn't ask.

Glass Stones, Rock Houses

Beauty is irrelevant without 

Love in the present tense. 

Drawing Along A Plane

My life is fiction lived in present tense.

It exists at the intersection

of the ex and why? axes.

The connection of two points on a plane

marks the line that forms the image.

Coordinates are found haphazardly

and ordered according to no plan.

If a point is removed another

will appear to take its place,

altering the final image. At most

only a partial view is visible at any

given time.

Being

To be one is to be all.


Who is not the child?


Who has not been the child?


Who will not be the child again?

5 Lines

I.

a pantheon of useless gods

II.

a century of cadavers looking for their ghosts

III.

god didn't fail, you did.

IV.

Soul Contraption

V.

It's hot in Hell.

battling entropy

take the time out
on grey days
to get out

you want to right
you hold part of yourself
hostage
for a better time
that never comes

pin hope on ambition
it can only be fulfilled with action

idle time is death
death is a given

do not relent
raise the colors
of the regiment

have you surrendered
will or grown in apathy

feet go nowhere
if they are not moving

still water stagnates
and festers with disease

something more
something else
something somewhere

stop being so so so
tied to static
ready yourself

self is the hardest part
to understand
it as tangible / ephemeral

sit comfortably
closed off from harm
closed off from experience

it pains you to hurt
it hurts you to breath
you exist all the same

undocumented terror
insecure in flesh
mind as still as rusted gears

falling into
an increasing state of entropy
the fate of everything

cities grow empty with steady ease
wild grasses grow taller than men
glass breaks and iron rusts

stone remains
it too will be eroded
by the steady winds

no one knows

when you're sinister

the challenge

The emptiness is the challenge. It cannot give you

anymore than what it is. You can look upon it and

ask for it to provide guidance, it will simply stare

back and marvel at your laziness. "What do you 

think I am? Why are you here?" it would ask itself.

You start to ponder the first thought. Many are half

formed children that are discarded with ease. Some

are more developed but lack refinement. They might

be of some use given the chance to change. The words

can do more than what you are willing to do with them.

The sentence begins

with one word.

It is often something as simple as

"Mama" or "Papa".

It gains competence and complexity

over a period of time

as it begins to grow in understanding.

The sentence continues

in an unabbreviated river of thought

expressed and hidden.

Punctuation is hardly ever a concern

in the moment as it

writes itself unceasingly over the years.

There is a final maturation

where it begins to stutter and shake with

the unease of its origin.

The sentence is only one thought unfurled,

the chapter was never

finished, never mind the entirety of the book.

We are in mid-sentence

and if we are lucky we may finish it.