A lifetime could never 

be enough for any of us.

break open your head
let yourself float into sky
discard soul coffin

Invisible Seasons

Unseen and unheard anywhere except in mind
the world changes
                              as it always does

Walk down your street
just in time to see helicopters hovering overhead

What manner of change has happened

Whose death is at hand?

On Virgil

lost in the night
walking cracked 
                          and dirty streets
with broke and dirty people
you realize
you have always been
one of them

Monument to Now

This life
What other life is there
This time
What other time is there

Moving in silence as though
sound were a thing to be ashamed of

Summers of endless heat
Winters of endless cold
Springs of waking
Falls of fading life

There can only ever be
this moment

Hear these words
out loud
or spoken in your mind

This moment
is what matters most

Eternally now

Now

Here

You

Me

Us

Now

Only

Now

We lurch through life
as though it were dark woods.

Cumulative

She could hear him stagger in the door
As his uneven steps halted and resumed.

She heard the sound of his body fall into
The deep cushions of the couch. His arms

On his chest as though he were trying to 
Embrace himself. His right leg dangled

Off the couch and was touching the floor.
She would sleep alone again tonight.

Looking at him she could have sworn
She had once known him. 

On Modernity

It is no longer necessary to be kind and understanding
when we are able to curate a vision of the world that
stands in unanimous agreement with us.

Discourse has no place in discussion and we can reduce
one another from fellow human to ignorant fool in a breath.

It's no longer necessary to travel the world to view our vast
capacity for cruelty- one need only to look at their phone.

Hope suffers from the longest death. 

Barbaric Kindness

It is possible to speak without a tongue

Oftentimes those words carry the deepest meaning

That is impossible to ignore or forget

How far down the cave must we travel
before our light is extinguished
and we have to admit losing our way?

For Flannery

If everything that rises 

must converge

can it be said that 

everything that descends

must come apart?

Hibernate at home

Untethered from distraction

Curtains touched by wind

Capturing the light from the Sun.

Fish Don't Have To Learn How To Swim. 

Fish Don't Have To Learn How To Swim. 

Calculating Gravity

Calculate the precise gravity of a word
Don't over think
Think just the right amount

Once you're certain
type or write out what you have in mind
How does it look

Is it aesthetically pleasing
or does it sit there like
a dirty damp rag tossed on the floor

Does your mind turn from this task
and remember a random bit from childhood
and quickly withdraws the invasive memory

Are you crying
Please don't cry
Memory is like that

Do you want to continue
If not I understand
Put the words away

We can always
try again
some other time

Scattered Thoughts All Gathered Together (evening - 6/4/16)

Interpretations of Reality

Create the world you wish through selective perception

Change and Realignment

Consciousness moving through an eternal present of possibility

Beauty as a sign of temporary attraction

What is everlasting?

The Business of Life & Loss

How to Move On Without Ever Letting Go

How quickly we move from disappointment to acceptance.

These late nights move through us
as we move through them

Memories of distant possibilities are nothing more
than snow melting in the noon time sun.

Better to let some memories gather dust.

we were done and
that was it
and that was that

My back is nothing more than
bone and flesh
and can be broken
far more easily
than I care to admit

What is fit to be buried and what
is fit to be kept?

Desire and Reason rarely have anything in common.

I need some silence to balance out all the noise in my life.

No reason to be awake
yet you cannot fall asleep
so you stay up until
the night takes you

One must look past mere physical beauty to find substance

Enraptured by her beauty
I became a slave to an ideal
that no one else could
ever hope to match

Can we ever find the beach that has no end?

When all you want to do is talk
and the night is late
and the glass is empty
but everyone else is gone
or asleep
so you sit alone
and hope the words
will find you

I would have loved you if
you ever gave me the chance

Only the dead are free.

Like the silence that stretches across the desert at midnight.

The restlessness of the soul.

Let the page feed your spirit.

We let each other go as gently
as a breathe being exhaled.

Broken Teeth and Bloody Tongues

The Overlap of Dreams

Sueno pero recuerdo
lo que tuve recordar

Shadows that exist only at night.

There was never anything to hold onto
but we clung to another
as though nothing could tear us apart

My broken bones
cannot be reset
I grow together
fractured and imperfect

The illusion of choice
The choice of illusion

These lonely nights of worry
Where are you right now
Don't worry
I'm just here trying to breathe

Brotherhood of the Black Moon

He cruised north on Vista Del Mar with the Pacific
flanking his left side. Wind tousled his hair. The music
was off. All he could hear was the waves on the beach
and the tires over the asphalt.

As he neared his destination an airplane flew overhead
from the nearby airport. Briefly, he looked over and saw
its form buried in the dark skies. He slowed and pulled
over as he came to a stop.

In rapid succession, the headlights and engine were killed.
A car sped past. He could feel it's velocity through the
sudden shudder of the car. The lights of oncoming traffic
blinked into the darkness and barreled close and away.

There was no reason for him to be there this late. He didn't
want to be home. There was nothing in his room and at
least here he could listen to the waves and let his mind
forget about itself for a few moments.

His phone buzzed and the screen lit up. It was a text.
"At the Black Moon having a drink. Drop by."
He wrote, "Sure. Be there in 15." He turned the key
in the ignition only enough to turn on the stereo.

A loud cymbal crash followed by rumbling toms
and the clattering of percussion beating through the
speakers. From the first note he knew it was "A Night In
Tunisia" by Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers.

He turned the key and the engine awoke. There were
no cars in either direction. A quick u-turn over the
solid double yellow lines and he was headed south
towards the Black Moon.

He needed the company. He needed the drink.
What a day. What a week. Wayne Shorter's sax
cut through the wind as the two sounds intermingled
to create a new voice.

What kind of night would it become? It didn't matter.
How could it? Eventually he lost track of the waves,
the road, as though nothing but he and that song existed.
His company was anticipated. He hurtled forward

until the mild suburban facade of the area showed
it's face again, and when it did, how he longed to rip
the skin from it. At last, the Black Moon came into
view. There was nothing to be won or lost.

We are ghosts who 
remain among the living.  

The Eraser

I began to erase the words from books because
I could not stand the lines falling flat and dead upon the page.

Gradually, I began to see the remaining words coalesce
into thoughts I had never before considered.

They began to speak freely as though they were unbound
from the constraints of which they had been born.

Pages upon pages I filled with black sharpie or the
imprecise brush stroke of whiteout.

I began to draw, colour, cut and paste images
into these books. I began to reshape them

into representations of my thought process.
Beautiful. Scattered. Old. Revelatory. Blasphemous.

In this way, I found my joy. It had merely been hidden
all along, in those dusty old books hidden in forgotten rooms.

I'm at the bar or liquor store
about as often as I work.
This is not a coincidence.

I've got nothing to prove 
and everything to lose.

God stopped talking to you long ago
but you can't stop singing his praises.