Everyone should be happy. I drink bergamot tea
to stay close to him. I microwave water.
I don't own a kettle.
I store maps in boxes and get lost a lot.
I wake up on a Saturday and live
someone else's life.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Poorly catalogued intentions.
Your shoe atop my toe
should have been the signal to stop.
But I've read Greek drama; this is
where it gets good.
The crack in a familiar voice is a cymbal crash
squeezing through the space of a hiccup.
Intermission came too late and we all
wet ourselves.
should have been the signal to stop.
But I've read Greek drama; this is
where it gets good.
The crack in a familiar voice is a cymbal crash
squeezing through the space of a hiccup.
Intermission came too late and we all
wet ourselves.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Letter to an Aging Poet

for Jim
I've turned through your years
as no doubt you book-marked
through those of your own
aging poets.
In fewer than five years, I've read you to bed for forty-five.
Yet for suffering with you, I'm none the wiser.
Doomed, I'll make the same mistakes and
come to classify them otherwise.
Moving Boxes
A spot in some future tense,
I'll fix for you and fill
with art for which we've
not paid enough,
chairs from cold
countries, a loose
board, and a light
that shines on
applauding bones.
I'll fix for you and fill
with art for which we've
not paid enough,
chairs from cold
countries, a loose
board, and a light
that shines on
applauding bones.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
saudade: vol. 1
The cherry stand marks one quarter
of the climb; I stopped to watch
Armageddon arrest both land
and sky.
I have lost the ability to measure the distance
between things that are not you and me.
of the climb; I stopped to watch
Armageddon arrest both land
and sky.
I have lost the ability to measure the distance
between things that are not you and me.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Wrong-done and un-won,
sin engraved in mouth
wide open.
Unlearned step and sandy-sunk,
two roads diverged in
pictures took.
sin engraved in mouth
wide open.
Unlearned step and sandy-sunk,
two roads diverged in
pictures took.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
In the canyon, caught by the
heat of a hundred hands,
kicking carcasses
of days when cops
climbed down cables
and this water was
real.
I ate two tacos, and two
assholes pitched
pebbles at a pair of
copulating lizards.
Suddenly saddled to believe better days
existed before me.
The last one there is rotten egg.
heat of a hundred hands,
kicking carcasses
of days when cops
climbed down cables
and this water was
real.
I ate two tacos, and two
assholes pitched
pebbles at a pair of
copulating lizards.
Suddenly saddled to believe better days
existed before me.
The last one there is rotten egg.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
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