A Constant Amnesia

Memory is a malleable thing

before it is forgotten altogether.

The ghosts of our former selves 

have no place left to haunt. 

Wandering until rebirth,

another chance to forget. 

Shaping Space

Sapped

Emptied

I pour myself into a chair

and try to find

whatever words remain


Tired

how tired

I've become

or has my spirit

exhausted itself

The Faded Colossus

vast

a distance we cannot cross


exchanging a longing gaze


the chasm grows wider

Body Images

I.
Spare Parts For Broken Hearts


II.
Tears Of The Body

Interruption

The night air streamed steadily

through the slightly rolled down window.

He was using his coat as a blanket,

body reclined in the seat.

It was still dark outside-

too late to be early, 

too early to be late.

A few hours earlier 

he had planned on going home

but found himself

giving in to the twins

of exhaustion and intoxication. 

It was still enough to hear the hum

of street lights and power lines,

he passing cars of the nearby 

freeway sounded like faint waves

from a fading dream. 

He righter himself and looked around,

there was no one.

With the keys in the ignition

the engine sputtered back to life.

He coughed.

The seatbelt clicked, was fastened tight.

Release the parking brake,

shift into drive.

cycles

everything is lost

and gained

over and 

over and

over

I, the Vessel

My soul is a shiftless creature
tanning its skin on my lawn.

It dreams of cloud kingdoms
and the succession of royalty-

wonders what name it would take
 if it ascended to power.

My soul comes home
when I have gone to bed.

It doesn't say much
when it comes home late.

It likes to leave early in the morning
before I have gotten out of bed.

I have told it to look for a job
but it scoffs at the idea.

A Soul? With a job?
Such a ludicrous thought.

We love each other
but can often be at odds.

When I walk through the forest,
light streaking between branches,

we marvel at our fortune,
the privilege of being.

A Night in Fragments

I.

Honor the struggle.

II.

My will turns to ash.

III.

Your life is only as interesting

as you are willing to make it.

IV.

The open mouth scream

of freeway wind

rushing through 

rolled down windows

V.

It is easy to feel

a great loneliness

late at night

while others sleep

unaware of the ills

that keep us awake.

VI.

everything fails in time.

VII.

I can hear its beat

though we are not

in the same space

VIII.

the green light flickers

turns red

then green once more

then red

flickers at a pace

faster than you eyelids

IX.

I have left the light on

for you.

X.

mangled fingers

the scarred flesh

of the forearm

a visible history

XI.

table kalimba

always ready for a touch

singing silver tongues

XII.

How can we call it love?

XIII.

truth in fragmentation

XIV.

yield nothing

XV.

He is as hollow

as a chocolate 

easter bunny

XVI.

let's not call it love

let's not call it anything

let's call

let's talk

let's let go

XVII.

useless machinery

a soul in transit

lost between two points

XVIII.

you can't go to sleep

you don't even bother

Dreams dissipate as eyes begin to blink

through daylight.

A Reminder

It is important to remember

that we are the sum of our choices-

as such

it is imperative to also remember

that the power to change

our lives is always

within our grasp.

Sun Bathe

content to be bored

you smile

let the sun tan your skin

minimal summation

breathing in air 

through rolled down 

windows

a quiet street

muffled words

later on

alone

a drink 

another story told

another story lived

Proclaim

that which you 

know yourself 

to be.

Second Hand History

wrenched out teeth

healed up gums

a bite that leaves

saliva on the arm.

I bet

it must 

be nice

waking 

next to 

you in

the 

morning.

2am

I awoke to the sound of midnight

rain and wondered

out loud to no one

in particular at all.

Sell me a false hope fantasy

Sell me a better version of me

Tired

It was always the same thing at that bar,
you could leave for days, weeks, months,
and go back and still find the same people

the same situations playing back on loop.
On occasion someone would pass away
from the expected causes, or move

so they could start over. Those moves
would never work out because some
problems don't care about location.

It had been a few months since I had
been there. Walking through the door
felt like slipping a pair of shoes

that had gone past being broken in
and comfortable, to broken down
and ready to be thrown in the trash.

Most of those faces were the same,
some hair was longer or shorter,
the same cigarette smoke clung

to lips and air. I ordered a beer
and whiskey. She asked me how
I had been, I said I was fine,

that things had been busy was all.
I bummed a smoke from the man
sitting on the stool to my right,

both of his arms were covered
by sleeves of tattoos. Most were
faded but still recognizable.

That familiar combination of beer
and whiskey burned the same way
it always had. I sat there and thought

about another round. I couldn't do it.
I got off my stool and walked out,
it was late and I was exhausted.

No Fishing, Please

They found him bloated and floating downstream.
He had been missing for several days.

Police said there was nothing to indicate foul play,
likewise, no one could think of a reason he would

kill himself. They said it must have been an accident.
A few days ago they found a young woman,

she was only twenty-three. A man had been walking
his dog along the waters edge when he saw her,

face down, hair reaching across like blonde
tendrils. I don't like to read the news most days-

I'd rather sit by the water and think of better things,
better times, summers long passed.

Unfinished Matters

The word is not yet done with you,

it has an expectation that not yet been met.

Her eyes stare at you waiting 
for your gaze to meet hers. 

Three Random Things

I ache for that which I cannot have,
for beauty I cannot possess,
for love that is not mine.

Possession of objects
is a passing desire
no more solid than wind.

The substance of life
is that which burns
the aching spaces.

_________

I can see it in your face,
you are beginning to look
like your mother
at your age.

_________

We lost each other a long time ago.

________

Are we as beautiful 
as we see ourselves to be?

Permanence

When you erase the pencil 
from the page a sense 
of what was lingers on

no matter how you tried 
to remove the memory

of thoughts scrawled 

into papyral skin.

_

Modern Loneliness

Laundromat

People sit in rooms with endless patience,
moving from one to another,
space to space, changing functions.

There will be a clock hanging from a wall
marking the passage of the time spent
inside that particular room. It can move

with pained agony or sprint like an Olympic
runner. Wait patiently. Move hurriedly.

Have you ever watched time move
in a Laundromat?

Tumbling cycles, noise, faces looking
to be left alone, someone searching
dirty pockets for the right change.

A child grows bored as her mother
talks on her phone. A man enters
and thinks how beautiful she is.

Canyons

I wish to close the gap

but it only grows

further and farther

further and farther

til only echoes remain

Cartography in the Invisible World

Contemplating Zero

Stop wondering.

forget

Who can forget?

The better question is 

Who can't forget?

The answer is simple.

I want Beauty in my life.

Strangers No More

You don't care about the suffering of others,
never mind my thoughts on that.

We're self-centered, are the center of the known
universe. It is easy to see why past generations

believed the Earth to be the center of Creation.
God must have laughed but thought it best

to let us figure out the truth on our own.
On second thought, I shouldn't paint you

with such broad strokes. I'm sure there have
been times you have shed tears for those

you have never met, mourned those you
never had a chance to meet. I'm thinking about

you right now, who you are, and wondering
if you know me and the contents of my heart

as it beats. I fear much as you do. I love much
as you do. I am as vulnerable and strong

as you have proven yourself to be. Perhaps
I love you. Perhaps I wish to be near you.

It feels good to think that we are not alone,
that perhaps we have just made connection.

A Moment of Beauty

I don't wish to be vague
so I'll be specific.

I'd like to write about beauty.
Let's not concern ourselves

with the philosophical
discussion that has plagued

us since time immemorial.
I'm thinking of the time

I held someone I loved
in my arms. We were

alone in a way we had
never been before or since.

Sitting on a couch
and watching the lights

stream into the darkened
room. She didn't want

to leave, or at least
she said that, and I didn't

wish her to leave either.
There are other details

that complicated our lives
at that moment, but I still

remember us sitting in
a light that not many

have seen or could
understand. I'm thinking

of her, us, that moment
because it has passed.

It is past.

A girl named Luna

is telling me

to go to the door,

that a package is waiting.


It sits atop the mat clothed in

boring brown. I take it inside

and she asks if I know


what it is. I tell her, I do not.

I set it on the kitchen table

and begin its autopsy.


Cutting along the packing tape

I soon pry its chest apart.

My hands reach inside-


who would have remembered?

who could have known?

Even time had forgot.

Suburbia

How do you escape

the mundane

when it is all you have

ever known?

Boring streets

with paper doll depth,

voices too tired to cry out,

home is here,

here is no place to call home.

Grind down the sidewalks,

make your own sand.

Unfinished

I woke up this morning

and asked myself,

how will I continue to live?


The answer wasn't sitting

there waiting to be found,

I had to set off in its search.


Evening is a cool touch

calming the soul. I see

something approaching-

Don't Wake The Neighbors

An alarm is going off
in an apartment
across the way,
it is the morning after
the summer solstice.

Are they going to miss
an important meeting
or other appointment?
I hope not, that would
be a shame.

I do not know their
name, only that,
like me, they are alive
and in need of going
about their day.

Its sound pulses.
How much longer
until they heed it?
Will they or
is it far too late?

My heart

is a Riot

for you.

Chambers

There is so much empty space

within the chambers

of any medical illustration

of the heart. Space 

enough for the undefinable.

Haunted by nothing-

what fear remains?

Which

Because I'll never love you.

Because you'll never love me.

Which is sadder?

Just Calm Down!

Calm the beating
in your chest

I know you're anxious
about the message

you just wrote
it's only words

what's the harm?
they could change

and challenge you if
they were to come true

why worry
why let your chest race

from the inside
it's locked into place

varying tempos
thoughts

are running through
making you dream

breath in deeply
calmly

what is there to worry
about anyway?

Careless Writing

write careless at first
then continue
with the pace that outstrips
the speed of your hands
let thoughts unfurl
narratives
images
bound by nothing
existing to exist
beauty
to the eye of the creator
structure / form
a scaffold holding
order as well as it can
a system by which to view
marvel at our works
think freely it is much harder
than you would imagine
the voice that nags
the voice of doubt
the voice of restraint
the voice you are trained to hear
the voice that becomes your second consciousness
the voice that tells you
how unseemly that break
was the voice that needs to stifled
the voice that needs to be removed
if you wish to find something better
the voice that must be silenced
if you are ever to find anything
worth saying on your own accord

Change is not possible

without the work

to realize it.

I don't worry about worry

don't have the time to speculate

on future unhappiness

on possible misfortune

After The Run

sweat beads down my forehead


trickles down my nose


splotches onto my clothes

A Slew of Lines

We were beautiful when we met.


Aging is the toll we pay

for the greatest gift.


Walls are nothing without a roof.

Shelter is a creature comfort.


My mind waits

for inspiration,

my hands write

without hesitation.


Fragments free of worry.

Hello[ ]Goodbye

fill it with jokes

fill it with promises

fill it with silence

fill it with embraces

fill it with tears

fill it with long days

fill it with short nights

fill it with beating sun

fill it with waiting

fill it with music

fill it with kisses

fill it with shared meals

fill it with evenings at home

fill it with your body in my arms

fill it with time

fill it with nothing

fill it, or don't

it doesn't matter

it will be

will be will

be

First & Last

When I wake the first
thing I do is look
for the right song
to play as my day begins.

I do this because
there is a tone that must
be set, though, this is not
always accomplished.

Some days deviate
wildly from the stated
thesis, others stay on mark
like an A+ paper.

As I get ready for sleep
I repeat the process
because of my belief
that music will effect

my dreams. I am not
certain that it has any
bearing on them but
I like to think it does.