Sunday, March 25, 2012


Ethnocentrically speaking of course
You’re just not there
Not emotionally. You lack that
As girlfriend and lover and girl again
Come to me asking the same question about you:

“Is that it?”

“I thought there was more than that…”
 I thought it was just a fa├žade, not the main event
truth is stranger for you
truth, is stranger to you.

The cost of water in your land
Keeps your terrain in check
In the way that I can box you in with your own pawns
The little fractions that hold water  
I am not cactus, I am not succulent
I am the range of epiphytes  
as vast in this world as any other
And walk without rhythm through the sands
That only time seems to remember

push forth through your sandstorm
don’t forget to carry water

truth is; I didn’t always enjoy the rain,
but I never take the time to appreciate anything without it  

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Dancing Alone

In my room
this techy-dub-house
 2 and 2
dream of  raptors
 wings, talons, whatever
skulk in this place
for some exchange

anything like,
 a fire uninfluenced
in copious fuel

and fantasize about overpowering limbs
as though the need to ever have to;
 thinking how hard something can catch my trigger
And detonate
like a scream through dimension

Because not every-fucking-waking-second was a long moment that dragged
winding the road to the highest branch
woven within these white rooms
something beautiful can be found 
destroy ourselves to become immortal 
Not that a name is any representation 

All that matters is ephemeral
Let nothing be left undone