Tuesday, September 27, 2016


Once I have gone

the ghosts of your discontent will devour the landscape entirely.

As an imitation of the genuine, the world will unfold as a stage that you have set for yourself, and yourself alone.

As eating in isolation has the effect of being eaten

this over-acted tragedy with no chorus and no audience.

Playing the victim, like a performance where all parties are playing the victim

Pantomime Rendering the mask of your own lies,

confronting the masks of yourself.

You will break, because you are soft.

crumble in the moment,

realistically never reaching the moment at all

lacking in the capacity to do so.  

Knowing this grants me no solace,

Sharing in some derogatory atonement.

to be released of this charade

where sirens wail in the distance

the low rumble of the streets

putting the proletariat to sleep in mechanical whispers

Glass beads

It is foreign to me

That’s why I like it

The glass-bead-game

Being played out in its most articulated level

These young men

Brought here for different reasons

Competing for different thin

Weaving it from the membranous thoughts

It is the mystery

And I pursue, stupidly

There is so much I don’t know

There is so much to understand

As I am wrought and rendered

These stupid activities

That have come to consume my life
in their complexity
I am made

Monday, September 19, 2016


devouring my resources like vultures

emaciated and emaciation

they land upon me like a vacant scarecrow

as a carcass being rendered by crustaceans

pulled apart with diligent little claws

I am suffocating under this veil of incompetence

And the tears are all but a play at catharsis

Pantomime silhouettes at reality

As a delectable tryst

I hunger, for the effervescent soul

Awaken something within me

As thunderous hooves rumbling against sun-scorched earth

The regency of all of my ideas

Bearing down like a raptor on fleeing prey

I am overwhelmed in the asphyxiation

How long it has been without love

My visage casting a tremendous shadow

Against the manufacture

A wild heart proliferates endlessly

Unrefined, unconquerable

yet crippled with yearning

my life is this endless, relentless adventure

with nobody to share it with
like a vortex
that holds a billion stars in place
invisible in its own magnitude

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Night Cranes

There are those crepuscular moments

Where all seems right

In the setting sun

When the cranes come out to feed

Flying low over the bay

Their dark forms cutting

through the sunset

like silent black kites

they are yachts of dusky skies

behind a stiff cocktail

and hilarious company

we are made ephemeral in the laughter

shimmering in the distant darkness

they drop into the harbor

plucking fish out of the

reflective membrane of an upside-down world

they harp into obscurity

their casual patience paying off fortuitously

with the distant strumming of a guitar

I am plucking the waves of their minds

we rock through the wake

where brevity is a lantern in the darkness

effectively illuminating their humanity

in simple wisdom

framed in simple emotions

genuine and loving

unable to see the emergent night creatures

perhaps unable to see the darkness at all