My loose ends have come back to me,
tied knots around my wrists,
pulled me in one direction
or another.

Come back to this:
hands typing feverishly in the cold,
a story unraveling:
the real romance is found only in
your idealized fiction.

twilight love

-as dawn creeps we have yet to sleep,
crawling under covers toward semi-darkness and you;
all the light is blue.
Your voice, the sound of rain,
the scent of promise, tinged with
darkness and the unraveling.

in spite of everything
else, all that stirs and crushes,
all that is devoid of feeling,
i always return to you.

december carves me hollow

bittersweet empathy
will no doubt be
the death of me

i have explored the depths of my psyche:
fear of abandonment,
desperate need to find self in others,
tendency toward self-destruction

i have known the boundless pain of love:
frantic kisses beneath a barrage of tears, two languages,
a one-way ticket home,
three thousand miles from the real thing.

here i sit, untethered and alone,
fearing, above all things,
that you do not mean what you say.

adventures on the eve preceding christmas eve

oily creature crawling through small window from atop
a house, into warm inviting nest of
pillow and blankets. all is enveloped
in darkness and quiet.

speak now
or forever hold your peace:
the infinite pendulum
hanging on your heart
keeping time to it’s beat
it’s to time it’s keeping,
keeping time beating.

oceanic passion current
pulling me over and under.
staring up at the fierce glowing face
of the sun, through the endlessly
shifting flow of the waves above:
a brilliant sanity.

Born Alive Dying Dead
Start at the tail and end at the head-
I am waiting to be born
I am waiting to break free
I call out to the moon
but the wind strangles me.


Just a fly, caught in a jar;
thoughts collide, coalesce, form
a fireball in the sky,
that burns a trail of tears
strung like a rosary
between your fingers.
you cry out soft notes,
like a child’s tender wisp of hair,
caught in the breeze.


contemptuous stares
and liquid snares
your shoulder bares
no resemblence to
the monkey in the middle.

hippity zah
yip yaw
blambastic snap plastic
bracelets from Wild Bill’s:
one dolla, your face
on a grilled cheese sandwich.
Pass me a plate
of that wily scag.
The wind is whipping your whiskers.


Butterflies and
wonder eyes,
hummingbirds caught
in your throat


Lying down, heart to the sky,
mind to the earth, e pluribus
(out of many, one)
and the sun is a warm breath
on my eyelids, beneath me
rocks meld to my spine,
the ground is cracked
and voiceless, my
blood slows, curdles in my veins.
A sonorous boom, a lifetime in an instant,
exhausted, melting and fusing
with the frenetic pulse of the universe,
on the brink of utter annhilation,
the crazed beast frothing at the mouth
utter lies!!
webs and webs of them,
weaving through my ears, my eyes,
tugging at my stomach,
smashing my entire body repeatedly
into the pavement.


A thousand birds flying through
the sky is white noise
upon close examination, i find
that the thought of you fills
me with joy.
make your life extraordinary!
may you never be complete
but completely free.


in the untelling i feel the
pace of your pulse.
in the midst of your mind
i’ve found a nest, feathered
and soft, your eyes
have their quiet, in the center of
ecstatic yearning there is a note
only you can play.

rolling thunder in the distance,
brilliant flashes of heat and light,
the illimitable sky, your eyes,
the deep and infinite darkness.

this is all a fleeting moment.
this will be just a memory:
your hands in my hair,
my heart in your teeth,
a face in the remnants
of dreams,
perfectly mad and
furiously beautiful
intensely beautiful.

we were not born for death,
but we were born for
ecstatic rebirth.

Today he hugged me while I sat under my favorite tree wanting to crawl underground.
I felt wholly accepted, and basked in the glow of the sun in december
(which of course is infinitely better like food is oh-so-much-tastier when stolen)
Today, tomorrow, and every day after this
I will want no more and no less.
oh, to not-need,
to forget myself,
to find salvation in things that will not destroy me-
but enough,

Begin: 1:58 A.M.
Begin: fully processing the moment
how chemicals can fully possess you, how words are
smooth coins-
the exhiliration! how difficult it becomes to write in the captive arms of freedom, of the breath-
this feeling of flying and of falling, how we have always
been searching for it.
Yes yes, I have
always been searching for
for this,
your quiet eyes
your voice, these
dancing notes

i cannot both write and experience these feelings
but i must try, as i have always
been meant to try

oh the body,
where you were always
meant to be.
oh the bated breath,
the heightened awareness,
that pre-race warmup
mile around the block
tripping out on your
own letters
as you
write them
yeS! to be
where where?
right here!
to do
absolutely nothing
to do this
and this
to do things for their own
god’s fucking sake
to be this
crazy fucking creature
independent of social construct
and of your construct
and of this great urgency,
this sense of foreboding

be the feeling you wish to create in people

it doesn’t even matter what the writing on the wall is saying
you love just reading it

you are just a
little sneaky creature
watching things move

it’s all waiting for us
here now
we are
for this

is all i need, all
i need is this
an instant of
utter bliss,
you sweet little etcetera!

i have fallen in love
with this place, i
have fallen in love
with this time
thank the lord that i’m insane.

(tonight is the story of
how you were a hero
come come let us disintegrate!)

-your mind, perhaps?
-all of these
things for smoking
-tearing down preconceived
notions, your sense of being
derived from the delectable now.

Because the clouds above me are washed purple from the urgent electricity of the city below.
Because I walk down these familiar roads in the pouring rain at five in the morning on the first of december,
not wanting to be anywhere else in the world.
Things could only ever make sense to me exactly this way.
And to you, you who would sparkle like fresh morning grass,
you darlings of a generation,
oh never could my sad, bewitched eyes
be more or less in your gaze.

Opium + Mushrooms + Marijuana = blazing ecstatic pretty shiny things!