poetry and writings, etc.

Poison is a menace

your eyes missed my face

and went after me

Not/ talking is love

Not/ talking is trust

Before the sun comes

We lay in our beds and sulk

Poison is a menace

    a manager

    a blessing

I can’t stand ropes

I give out at the knees

Laser eye defeats cloud

Why does the cloud continue come back?



If it were to be my way

If it were to be so clearly and evenly defined

If I were to have it be in the morning noon and night

If I could see it clearly and be the day’s guiding light

I wake up and smile at the sound of people enjoying their lives outside in the morning

The a/c running,

My sweat a cool reminder of the fact that I am a living being attempting homeostasis

That I am as fallible as any elm or composted orange peel,

Desecrating as time takes it away into a new form

I am the new form, and I will always be the new form

And being the new form!

I hereby proclaim

That I am confident and curious!

That all friends are important and interesting to me in their own way

That the temptation to masturbate is remote and peripheral,


That the path to love be sworn with missteps and idolatry,

Liminality and recompense,

Trust and

That look that you get when things aren’t going just right

You said something wrong,

And they’re not telling you what you’ve done

(How can I learn? I am not a mistake, I’ve only made a mistake)

That I am the osmosis of knowledge, the loss of knowledge,

The acquisition of new states of being

The flume for which things pass through and stick if they decide to

I am only as boring as the caution tape that lines the paths my mind won’t yet cross

I can only subsume

I am not just “human” or a “body”

I am the idea of myself

The dysfunction of existing within this constrained totem

Let it be free now



The poison arrow sinks in but designates the space around it as the source, proselytizer.

For the width of the bounds of my love are infinite in nature and contracted in reality,

Rope-tied and bound to protect me, to 



NO you don’t protect me

The betrayal of myself begins:::

You are not PROTECTING me anymore you are

PREVENTing me from living with a great love

You are soldering me to and iron bar that I drag on the ground



catch on all obstacles

S l   o      w         i            n             g                  m      e          d             o                  w                          n

And sure I’d rather lie in bed all day not facing anything, not even facing myself

Not even raising a fist and fighting for myself,

(But shh it doesn’t need to be like that,) it can be a private gradual uh— uh

Like a staircase or the way a plant grows

Or the blinding speed with which LADOT builds their fucking roads! Ha!

I could reach in and shake the motherfucker for all it’s worth!! 

What have you done with me/? What have you done with the real me??

I shout at the corpse of a heart,

Molding, wilting,

I was once a flowerbud I was once a seed

I cannot BELIEVE some things but I WANT to. I am reaching so far outside of myself

So. I gradually remind

(Peace be with you)

Re mind

(I am all love, all love you’ve had, you’ve made inside yourself, 

You trust yourself, you trust others

You’re not so different)



there’s a fire there’s a big red flame jumping out of the manhole in the ground, were there men down there who knows I sure hope not, it’s in the middle of the city it’s in a crevice it’s in the dug out tunnel in the earth, the pile of tar that rests on the earth the crust the surface the innards the guts the meat the bones of the land the Tierra, what I know what I don’t know. It’s the big flames , there’s a spark and there’s ignition and there’s the wild wind that blows it down the lane down the stick and the wood that lets it jump and jolt and the spark that starts it all, and the horse kicking in the flames the horse and the cow on the farm with the chickens and the farmer comes out and yells “yeehaw” and the cows moo the ducks cluck, what luck the morose morgue in the basement of the placement was a secure space to make the mint the US dollar the us living together the what we are and what we know and how much of the soul is resting on the sleeve that is seen that is speculated about and how much is used and how much is spared and how the sleeves reveal as they are pulled up the arm to the shoulder, a tattoo and where’d ya get that and who’d ya know and who’d a thunk it and god damn it bobby because that’s what they know and that’s how they learned to sew when they wake up they sweat and they fight different fires from us because they are told one thing and we are told another can we just do it can we get along I think it’s something worth trying for because red is red and blue is blue and purple doesn’t go anywhere it sits on the spectrum in between gamma and spectral infrared light because it knows and it knows as it moves closer to black, the darkness, the hole, the closet, the absence of light, of fire, that the wind was blowing so hard, the intensity of the sun resting its rays upon the skin of some and not of others and the plants that grew and the cities that crumbled and the animals that need different soils and vegetables and nutrients from each other because the clay isn’t enough because the beans aren’t enough and storage isn’t there yet and there’s only so much you can do with a claw and some others and a hole to fill because that hole rests inside each one of them and the fire that ignites it the fire that burns, that’s the intensity of the black of the black hole and the color the absence, but the combination of so many different colors and the absence of paint color the white the filled paper the filled screen and everyone’s eyes but no one’s lips because the closer you get the more the eyes want to close, and why the eyes close when you kiss may in fact be that the lips are in motion, but the lips purse when the eyes are searching, so you use the eyes to search for a soul, you become close you look at your affection and smell the difference and then the lips do their work and as you kiss you chew and as you become sick you throw up and it has to go in and come out somehow I need to dissociate from the idea that this is me or us or we I think it’s a combination of a lot of things that have entered my supra conscious or subconscious and what rests above my head other than the loaded gun of experience and existence hovers a heavy hand holding my hair haranguing in horror the whole of the hunt is descript or nondescript or whatever you make of it and the mothers and the fathers and the sisters and the brothers and let’s not exclude the nuance and let’s include everyone and you’re so perfect to me and you’re a manifestation of all of those qualities of capitalism and you’ll be successful and you look like the dollar to me you look like a whole briefcase of dollars maybe a whole basket of briefcases of dollars and 1 dead 6 injured says FDNY and the whole hole is holy because the fire leaps out up into the hands of the wealthy to deny they ever had it or any responsibility and they want it to be easy and there’s no mutual investment and black lives matter but they’ll let them die at the hands of the police officer who protects them and the subtext of that is a state of apathy for each and every person, the perfection is not possible, said the toad, croaking over the cricket night, there’s no one left to save you except yourself, keep to yourself, pick your battles and do your best, and do your worst, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do but let’s piece this together like a pattern quilt and I’m going to fire your ass and you’re dead squalor, you’re a piece you’re a real piece and a piece of ass that crotch that wicked tight body and the sentimental poison of ash and ask me a question I have my fist raised right to your nose and I’ll bop you don’t say the wrong thing I’ll bop you I know now what you want and you can give it to me too and I know we can be mutually beneficiaries and our deals are real and the flowers and the stomach skulls bled fire for nature and the hymnals that bleed out over the sick killing and the feasts that are prepared that require this sick killing and sang sing sung and ding dong dung it’s the same it’s the same and we’re all in this together so let’s clap our hands and clasp our hands for the lord, our friends, and for some our dollar and the savior that delivers us from this pain, there is no pain in existence, we’ve had it the whole time and how did my parents do it how did my grandparents and uncles and aunts and all above me do this and what power did they bestow unto me and how do I know what love is if I’m blending it with the poison the encounters that do not satisfy anything other than to regurgitate the mutual fear that we share and the omit the pressure is to lie to ourselves, a job a job they say and I say no way I’m getting this done I’m staking myself in the dirt and watching the flowers and the plants grow and doing no move and suing my proven surge of sanctimonious restitution purse surgeon lurve and gorge the gorge the sun the bing bong the sing song and the sweets that lay at Cinnabon counter I pay and you’ll pay for it not so bad let’s get ahead of ourselves right the soul is right behind it and it is in itself and I am I am I am it’s coming right through you’re not doing this and you are and you deserve it for the work and what does the work do for you, it’s nothing more than sitting and seeking, the curiosity that is beside this



It’s the contours around you,

When your clothes are off,

When the melancholy and drifting ease

Of the slippery clips and socks and buttons

We don’t remember,

And there’s no question about how, if, or when

When it’s happening and

Like a gust of wind fills the mast

And we each draw a breath and nod

And our hands meet after

And our ribs align,

I’m sighing and an amorphous bug

Drifting in and out of the honeycomb

Snapping in and out of dream

I am pinching myself

You are squeezing me

I am sure as the sand

The sand sweeps in and out

And the rug rubs in the delta mouth

It remembers the distance

The trees in the wind

Softly blowing

East by the mountains

And those mountains

Where you see down,

Where you learned your wisdom

And how I feel not so sure

But you seem so sure

And tell me to feel the same

I’m surely paddling a boat in that direction

I want to encounter it,

No explosions

You are not a speared whale

We are remarkable fish

It’s the contours around you,

That I dream of,

I could scream

I would scare you off to the mountains

So I remain silent,

Waiting for your approach

As solemn as the slow knife


titles of things


Dial tone

Small part


Blanket yanker

smart morning

green acre title

bed womb

red room

seriph granule

a sand bar

sleeping is right

arm over arm

hand in hand

eyes on eyes


mellow gentle


west tie

a comment on the ecology




large pod

pull and mirror

left in the right

yes to understanding

in the affirmative for the right way

the intimacy of doubles or duos

so pride

vestiges of now

meeting the river

seeing the sea

wading on mind