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.

For Jewel

Time marks us so gradually
that we scarcely notice
the change it leaves upon us.

I am aware of my mortality.
I know the ceaseless march of
days will in fact end.

Inevitable. Inescapable.
How many ways are
there to state this?

My niece is no longer an infant.
She is beginning to walk
and use the simplest of language.

There are gray hairs colonizing
my beard. The settlement is
becoming a small village.

How much longer until the village
becomes a city? How much longer
until my niece calls me by name?

Our old dog grows older.
Should I envy her natural ignorance?
I'm not sure. I'm not sure.

Freewrite 5/22/16

I have to let the words flow like the drinks poured down my throat. Words must become as fluid as conscious thought. There is no cessation to language, to the firing of neurons through cerebral synapses. Memory and action, thought elevated to art and science, or brought down from Olympus and dragged into the dirt of our uncleanliness. We are no better than our primal ancestors, though, the veneer of culture and civilization makes us believe so. We are still subject to the process of belief. To belief in forces much greater than ourselves. This is no mistake. Nature is truly the only primal force we must account for. Everything else is artificial. Money, economy, politics, religion…these are all creations of ourselves. We cannot surrender these illusions without losing a perceived part of ourselves. 

Gauzy haze of thought

Passing sounds of passion

Flirting with the ethereal eternal

We submit to corporeal limitations

Please Remember...

Never forget the joy found within. 

Never forget the peace of solitude. 

Define yourself and only worry about 

meeting your own standards. 

Society can get fucked. 

Honor the self you know to be true. 

I let my ghosts haunt me 
at their leisure. 

You Are Worth Saving

There is something worth saving 

within all of us. It is not up to us 

to judge what that is, merely to 

know it yet resides and must be 

given the chance to thrive. 

Foolish solutions to existential problems. 

Wasted spoiled children

Of a decadent and dying empire.

We mistake opportunity for divine favor.

We do not recognize the blind luck

That befalls us all on occasion. 

This life spent
Standing in waiting.

Q&A

Am I disappointed in myself?

I don’t have to answer that.

I know what I would say

If I had the courage to mouth

The words to you.

A Pleasurable Prison

Inevitable coronation

that was anything but

though hardly anyone

could see

the room for chance

and circumstance

We Can Be

What there is

What there isn't

Everything in absence

Everything present

A representation

of abstract consciousness

These words

You and I

Apart

Yet together

Her Name Is Beauty

There is beauty that haunts me,
eludes me

but runs ragged through my thoughts
and I am helpless

as it runs over me.

I pull water from the well of delusion
and drink and bathe from it.

I tell myself
this is how it is,

this is how it must be.
I know, I realize

this is a choice
and these choices

can only last
for as long as we wish

them to be.

Beyond Reason & Sense

A bottle of Gin isn't always the answer
but it is just enough to calm
the doubts and insecurity
of a day gone on too long.

Begin at the beach. Imagine
praying to the waves. Can the Ocean
hear your prayers or are you lost
in the steady static of it's voice?

My blood is warm and my thoughts
have filled with hydrogen. Await
a spark to set the blaze to the beach.

Flames dance in the evening air
as we descend to a world beyond
reason and sense.

Distortions & Perception 

What happens to a society
When you remove it's future?

In Search Of

My happiness is a fleeting thing content
to land on my shoulder from time to time.

I do not shoo it away as it rests upon me.
It sits and looks this way and that.

Often I wonder what it can see that I cannot.
When it takes flight I watch it into the distance

and wonder where it goes, what it sees.
Sitting, waiting, I cannot let idleness overcome me.

There is time yet to put on shoes
to walk beneathe the sun,

to wander under moonlight.

More Time

Give yourself more time.
As the years go by
this will make more sense
become more urgent.
Give yourself more time.

The God Question

When was the last time you asked God for anything?

What did He say?

Did He give you the cold shoulder?

How can a shoulder be cold if attached to something living?

God, I hope you're not angry

but I've not been good

though I most certainly try.

How could you make me so imperfect?

What does that say about you? Our relationship?

I am not here to criticize.

I just want you to know how I feel.

How often have you felt disappointment in us

your children?

It's ok to feel like this whatever that feeling may be.

We have missed you.

It it true? I don't know.

Words are only words and nothing more.

Just black text on a page

making promises and saying things

of dubious truth.

And here

And now
And when
And if
And maybe
And possibility
And probability
And unlikeliness
And love
And fleetingness
And impermanence
And permanence
And illusion
And perspective
And wisdom
And laughter
And tears
And warmth
And coldness
And time
And passing
And knowing
And knowing
And realizing
And seeing
And it
And being
And ok
And it's
        ok

Incarnation

Begin and end-

Simple enough to say.


End and begin-

Being and beginning


How many lives

are we destined for

on this world?


If I were not human

I would wish to be

a young sapling

growing steadily

in the ground.


I would relish the sun

and caresses of the wind.


I would drink thirstily

from my roots and

grow until I could

provide shade

beneathe my branches.


Music reaches my ears

as my hand rests upon my chin.

I think of something and

then nothing at all.

Answers are useless without 
knowing the right question. 

Unintended Balance

In less than a day
I thought of elementary school
far more
than at any time
since I had been in there.

One of my oldest
and dearest
of friends
had just given birth
to a beautiful boy.

I was ecstatic
at the news.
I felt nothing
but joy
at such good tidings
for her.

A few hours later
I heard news
of a former classmate
who had just died
from cancer.

Honestly,
I felt very little.
I did not hate him
nor did I love him.

We were of the same age
and faith, but we were never close.

I last saw him over 12 years ago
in passing.

I sit here wondering
about the delicate balance
between being
and un-being.

It is a line far thinner than
any of us can admit.

I sweat
just enough
to wipe the drops
from my brow

and shutter
the words on this
page.

The laughs and squeals
of a happy child
can be the best music

This day must pass

and for that

I feel an unending

sadness and joy. 

Visitation

I told my Aunt G____ that I wanted to visit
my grandparents.
I told her that I wanted
to go by myself.
She insisted she should go with me.
I hesitated but agreed.

I tied my sneakers and wore a pair
of comfortable shorts. It was
a warm day after all.

I met her at the door.
She had an umbrella with her
to protect her from the blazing
midday sun.

We began to walk down
the gravel road that cut through
our town. It was calm
except for the occasional sound
of a passing car.

We walked into a small market
to buy a couple of votive candles
and a book of matches
and were on our way.

As we reached the outskirts
of the town we passed
a shrine for the Virgin Mary
and walked on.

Finally, we came to a gravel path.
Beyond that point lay nothing
but jungle stretching for miles
until the next closest town.

We walked down the gravel path
until at last we reached the gates.
We sat at the benches for a moment
before pressing on.

As we walked through the gates
I could only marvel at the pure stillness.
We turned to the left until at last
we faced their graves.

My grandfather, Alfonzo,
had died first. I was in high school
when he passed. My grandmother,
Donata, passed only a few years ago.

I set the candles down
and lit their wicks.
My aunt was watching in silence.

When I was done
I stood there for a few moments
and thought about all I knew,
and mostly,
all I didn't know about them.

I knew that without them
I could not be there at that moment.

I knew there had been many sacrifices
by them to provide a better life
for my Father.

Even he had to leave them
to find his own place in this world.

I turned to my Aunt
and we walked back up the gravel path
to the main road

back to my grandparent's home
to have lunch with my Mother
and her parents.

Account

If it's not loud it doesn't matter
If I can hear 
                    then I'm alive
Sweating skin
Clothes damp
Swagger in the hips
Drink to your lips
Alive and living
Dreaming  
                Spinning
Late tonight
just darkness 
         and ringing

Catch The Day In Your Teeth

Horizon lines unbound
   from my sight
Cut the sky apart
Tear down Heaven
Rebuild it in Hell
Horizon reborn
Dies every night
Live again
These bloody rivers
Flowing into the ocean
and out again
Flowing in and out
again
again
again
Catch the dawn
in your mouth

In Brief

Open the artery
Bleeding fountain
Pumping machine
Running dry
Running dry
Born to live
Bound to die

Living is dangerous

Dying is safe

Age of New Darkness

Dedication

I decided to write you a poem
but then I saw that it wasn't good enough
to send. I started to write another one
and drew the same conclusion.
I began to write this one and decided
no matter the outcome it would be
good enough to tell you
I love you and how I can't
tell you that enough.
This time together will outlast us both.
I love you
I love you
I love you
Do not forget how much
I have loved you and
Love you still.

What matters?

Years pass through me

That's to be expected

This time is precious

And to be spent

As best we can manage

The process of learning

the value of what matters

is one that has only one end

momentum

the days are too numerous behind us
as we are borne forward by
the momentum of self-preservation

make sure your grow accustomed to
death, marriage, births, and divorces,
they are coming towards you
as surely as the ceaseless wind

do you remember when you told me
you didn't believe in the wind?
a wry smiled crossed your face
as your hair was tousled by the wind