Tuesday, July 26, 2016


Awoken at a cliff’s edge

The endless geometries of the desert

The pink sunrise melting into an azure sky

under towers of electricity

Through raining ash

The sun-scorched repetition

Pallor Yucca stood as disfigured living-death

Reaching up into the sky

Gathering ashes like bouquets of sorrow

We carry the vibe of this land

As a victorious banner

Of a conquest well executed  

My friends; I feel privileged to have you near

It sequesters the primal fear

Watching the earth be devoured in fire

In these spread membranes

I feel the spectrum

A thin film of life and death

Caught in this mortar

Perpetually entwined

A thunderhead anvil hovers overhead,

casting its power over me

Sovereign and elegant The layers shed

Exposing her naked form

Deftly embracing her throne

Regent and perfect, meat is twisted  

sweat rains in thick drops

On scarred and wind swept skin

we are Hellenistic forms

contorting against one another

sensuous and glistening flesh, struggling against itself.

Unfolding like spring—

Intoxicating everything in assimilation

Drawn by how close I feel,

consumed with a sensation that I know by other names

how long we have waltzed;

corrupted in affections

reigning over the empires of one another

woven of some greater why

that shapes this and other theaters

we are the tryst—

we are the hunger of the ocean, the thirst of the desert

the beckoning mountains and the luxurious metropolitan machine

we are everything;

we are eternal

& I am consumed in how eternal I wish to be with you

entranced in the affair that is this

Paper planes

Some September night

What seems like eons ago

Like a dream where you were my mother

We pressed paper to paper

And folded our memories

Into the futures that were not to take place

Perhaps more militant

We constructed the craft

And let them loose

Like so many words

Like so much rage

When you let them loose

They have no choice but to fly

We folded the pages

bookmarks of respective origami  

creases in our various styles

and made bets on who could stay airborne longer

you lamented never joining the air force

but taught me the fundamentals of aerodynamics

and I,  internalized them

I mastered the folds

Where we let so many planes loose

The creases holding up to the elements

Their shapes contorting to my will

Preconceived with the ailerons

Commanded through planning and design

Framed with the failure

Of a misfolded wing

Or a well-place nosedive

we picked them up

smoothing out the damages

and repaired and replaced and rebuilt

and let fly.

I remember a dark blue sky

With violet clouds

The falling sun

We crushed the edges of a poster into place

it flew magnificently

“it doesn’t matter how big or heavy it is” you said.

“…anything will take flight.”

And I sit pressing the paper

Afraid in this moment

Of the magnitude

of the paper

that I am willing to let fly

how deeply we know of irreversibility

and yet

 I know exactly what you would say:

be brave.

Be Brave.

And I feel it slip from my hand

like the first firebomb into the police

that huge plane on that summer night

the words slipping from thought

Into this irreversible reality

Learning to let go

I’m ready for so many things

to take flight

Friday, July 22, 2016


The propensity of it all,

How could I possibly know what is to come next

And yet so much of it seems so predictable

In shrinking pupils

Nuanced architecture

before it happens

Even the outlier events become commonplace

I navigate them

As the weakest part of the mind

Is between the plates of their beliefs

 I came, feather and talon

Days before you even heard of this place

I held the image of it

time becomes trivial  

what is to become of us?

What is to become of this?

As I dream of beauty and grace

Trying to subdue the firestorm of my thoughts

Sequestering the ire into stamina

Breaching the ethereal

I hunger for the shift    

Repeatedly brought back to reality

Only to realize there is a kind of atonement

In the furnaces of faithlessness

Where the faithful never shape this reality

I am wrought and tempered

In the dream  of chaos

Thursday, July 21, 2016


And I wear it in the speculation of my species

And I reach and delve

And I feel it as fire

Burning away my carapace

And like thirst, I shut it out

In the dilated eyes of the night

It feels so effervescent

This floating, reality shifting mind

The whispers, the tension

And I am there in the kingdom of the Annunaki

Savage and endearing

Beautiful as only humans can be

And then I slip from palaces of gold to streets of filth

And then I am back on my bike

Riding the traffic-choked streets home

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Never lost

Coiled up as fabric

Supple and smooth

The tissues of thisness

Textured with import

Because the truth is savage;

I wanna eat honey off your pussy  

I wish to detonate deep inside you

I would have you delicious and vile

I would have you awaken like the sunrise

On my ancient leaves

Where the roots of my anger

Crack rocks into powder

inspire my reiteration
drink in the gracious darkness
conspire in the creation
what lives beyond this plane

evaporate this landscape
minimize it into mental architecture

the gallop of fading shades
the texture of this nether world

as eternity upon eternities

that I would spend

waltzing in and out of these tides,

and endlessly I squander time

forever and ever  

a never-ending dream of futures to come

expansive and luxuriant

vibrantly warped through time

all of these dreams

the stars in the night

The sun in the sky.

I wish to be eternal and graceful

I wish to be awoken and new

Concerned in the chorus

the plotline of some kabuki play

meaningfully absurd and rhetorical

I would have you—Naked and visceral

Liquid and crystal  

What it means to be human

forerunner like myself

It’s a pressure that pulls at my wrists

opening mind into fantasy

I feel them resonating through the æther

As sound through water

I feel anchored to the earth

And yet, so unbelievably lost

Disoriented with tide pools

entangled into the adventure

in feathers and bells

distracted in delight

Dancing in these pockets of time

Moving to the vibration of the universe

Thursday, July 14, 2016


You told me once

Never to speak of this—

Never to speak of us—

But that is so unfair—

As you have been so deep

You have come to know me as you have

And I am grateful for what you have done

I have brought you to the perimeter—

…and now you must make the final steps

Our journey has been long…

You mark the first that I have not been able to reach with my spark

And I am sorry

And knowing that I cannot reach you

Discourages in such a way

That I become complacent; disinterested in even trying

I have grown weary of your landscape—

And now you must leave mine.

I wish you well

Perhaps on some foreign shore

…in some foreign time, We

will meet again.  

Sunday, July 3, 2016


Devour my thoughts in the heat

Where the circuitry is fried and rewired

The cogs of myself churning endlessly

Always rolling forward in time

Methodical and mechanical

And lost.

I am lost.

Forgotten and worn

Swept away in haughtiness

bemused beyond reason

at the plays and the players

Enduring and eternal

In a disgusting way

Vampiric in implication

Yet somehow genuine

with loyalties eroded

                what have I known of

competing affections

of warring factions

what humanly-flawed answer

for times such as these

I see it in the distance

As if watching myself slip through time

as one-sided attempts

are swept away in the rushing river

of my thoughts

memories will erode,

days become years

as persistent and persistence

framed within prerequisites

like landscapes I have seen before

it lives in the sense of adventure

where falcons breed and adrenaline flows

                with passive apathy

like pools of calm water

nestled in chaos  

what dreams have I held

worthy of weighing in against this backdrop

what tyranny have I surpassed

to be so numb in this moment

devoid of reflection

in the twisting moon

the carrion I have grown accustomed to

Will always have the sensation of ambrosia

Distant and foreign

forgotten in time.