Friday, January 24, 2014


You don’t thrive out here
Under the perma-sun
And when it rains it pours-
But it doesn’t rain often.

The words fail
Within the rift of our many languages
My heart trying to reach across the void
To put a hand over a shoulder
To if only to say;
“I too am only human.”

Here the wind burns.
Not only for the chapping zephyr
That spins each day into memory
Here the winds burn
Deep into the lungs;
Asphyxiating us in smog
Life is valued less here.

living by tooth and claw.
…And shotgun
They fight with words and fists and groups of people with similar mindframes in regard to their willingness to become violent    
Learning to grow around it
Letting the tendrils of ourselves creep through the minutia
Where so many of them are just waiting for the tide to rise.

Tina binds this place like tetanus
At night I see them walk the streets like wraiths
looking for trash, cigarette butts, spare change
sniffing out opportunity in its rawest forms 
like shadows become animate while wearing hoodies 
unconsciously searching out their desires
she doesn’t give a shit what she turns them into  

we band together in our struggle
we persist and we prevail
but we don’t thrive
In this sphere of influence that remains contained   

Somewhere deep within
Behind layers of pollution
Beyond substance abuse and neglect
out in the whipping winds
only wickedness takes root



Is the word.
I am Fond of you.
Fond, like the ire of Los Angeles
In some kind of vicious kiss
In some kind of raunchy-perversion
Passionate in it’s self-sustenance
Vile in all the right ways.
The look I give that city is the look I have for all of the things
 …its worth knowing
Like the combination to your lock
like a fire that could lay waste to this refuse
and put some water on this sand
the world is changing; faster than has ever been known
and yet we seek to pause time in the hopes that it will last any longer