16/100

a murder of crows

gathering bigger and gnarlier birds

One at a time

Taking no cover in a parking lot

Capturing the last glimpse of the day

before the storm rolls through

it is the last drops of water that fall from a broken tap

in the hardpan Tucson earth

sunburned flesh begins to perspire

in a day that never seems to end

vultures gyre silently through the air

like some awkward metaphor

that never seems to hit is mark  

15/100

Through the dark LA streets

The rain pooling in the gutters
the slosh of the passing cars

The storm falling back like a coward against the onslaught of the terrain

Out of an art show of spraycans

I jump out into the street

And catch Spout as she leaps over the water filled fissures

“Hold’on to her!” He says. A homeless man in the passing direction,

passing on in the opposite direction

We are just the flak in what must be his crack-laden mind

“Hold’on t’her.” He echoes aloud behind us

Like some midnight sermon to nobody

And were gone like the fading sirens

Were gone like wildfires that burn the Hollywood hills to ash,

We are fucking gone.

I think back to this second often

Late nights where I wake up just before blue hour

Wondering what dreams come

Or if I’m simply sleepwalking

And dreaming of the times where I was last asleep

Thinking on to the nature of letting go. 

color chain

With each stroke, I undo

bringing the work closer and closer to completion

Eventually unravel this spell

Yearning for letters and words that never come

The truth rings through the cracks

I mean nothing to you.

I mean nothing to anyone

And I’ve painted this succession so many times before,

unraveled so many others

casting them into the mausoleum where they exist forever 

and yet, yours remains so complex

so, complicated

so twisted it takes everything I have to remember where I am

but the truth rings through the cracks;

I am alone

And each time I spill these colors

Each passing year that slips away

I undo the spells that have held me, find new ones, and undo those

For the first time I grow tired of who I am

I’m sick of what I’ve become

Agnostic to finishing

the paintings that will evacuate your smell from memory

within each ending the inauguration of the same emotions arises

cowardice keeps me from pushing on

14/100

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 façade, 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  

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

So-deep-inside-you

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 

13/100

Thick drops fall

Upon this and that

Words scattered about

 Naked and unrefined

embedded like shrapnel

into hearts and minds

Say something,

Say something quickly

That’s also coherent, witty, and inspiring

standing out there alone

stark and vulnerable trying

to put that lump in your throat

down into the depths

where nobody could ever find it

in the emptiness that can’t be shared

imagining the jungle

the soft tap of

rain on broad leaves

keeping breathless

all the knots that bind

to this place

wishing to speak my name

one last time :: one first time

ever to have it heard

in your lowest wheel

like crying the last tears

before growing up

12/100

Hallucinating more and more

I smell you in my clothes

I hear your voice through the dark

Knowing you’re not there

through the empty streets

tentacles of mist  longingly reach,

take a piece of what doesn’t belong

in a place that has none

a place remembering nothing

beyond where it has been trespassed 

dedicating our lives to intrusion

if only to fall to memory

if only for a short while

and I ask, what was this catharsis

with such a heavy price?

& never seems to carry release 

like drawing lots in some
future i'm willing to live in
Look out upon this barren desert;
nothing is ever enough.