Friday, September 20, 2019


and with the sun tucked under
your arm,
you carried my eyes before
the dawn

when i woke up i had forgotten
where to go

because there was no there
where you left me

that was many dreams ago

the last time we talked
you would never close your eyes again

or breathe

'dying is like going to sleep
and never waking up'

and i was there
where ill be

when im the next to find our dream

and we can say good night

to mourn the loss of the sky

but i was born after the fact
and when i landed you would have noticed 
my eyes were gray
If you had watched where I fell 
instead of looking away 

Monday, September 16, 2019

Blood for money

i push my fingernail against
a broken tooth

but the nail bends

maybe i am left behind

a body of broken star systems

starved of calcified bones

ground against the
wiper blades of time

i remember when the insides
did not mold and degrade

when i could see within them
the tenuous blue sky

the limitless progress of age

Tuesday, August 6, 2019

Rooms devoid of light

wind up the
blades  fundamental to
our vibration memory

vultures sitting on propeller
fern trees
                drooping over skid row alleys
of future LAs

a chronicle of walking without
           played on repeat
rewound in VCR type

static board and frayed

the aftermath pre-
recorded      for laughs

perfect symmetry

overtone of darkness
paints the sidewalk black
invisible cigarette butts
in invisible hands

only the broken teeth
tear the page

lost in rooms devoid of
light in almost readable text

total blackout last breath

life memory prior to the end

Friday, July 26, 2019

little boy


where pain shifts like the ping
of engine

the sound of
                  a thousand cats puking


perched on a tree branch
outside your mind

      a mountain top
is flat

if you sleep upon it

think about it

the sky is a blanket of dewdrops
that are vast stars
                               of the void

and you are cold in your sleep
so I cover you with my dreams


what will you look like in
20 years        I can't even imagine
what you will look like   tomorrow

when I am an afterthought of time

when I peer down from the
blank clouds
that are the deep black


ivy white and homeless

trying to catch a glimpse
of your mind

no matter how often
we disappear


my little boy

Monday, July 15, 2019

the american dead sea

a neatly folded roadmap
sinking into the sea
carmel guilded walls
puzzled pieces
crushed by automobile waves

sitting upright
they discovered the body
shoeless covered in a makeshift

stomach pumped with military rations

no fire to keep its stiffening
bones warm

long into the summer
they watched it
                          until the morning
they slowly faded into
snow-like debris      leaving the body's
remains to stare off unsolvably 
into the oncoming sunrise         alone

Thursday, July 11, 2019

the problem will not go away

it was a nothing vote
banned in the crosshairs
of permit relations
no dance license

sensationalized official releases
running smoothly thru news boxes
heavily sedated radio waves
convulsing on the street
under the lights of the iron sweeps

no eyed glasses
lined up outside
     blue rats in military formation
formal head gear
broken lifeless teeth

they hung their smiles
from lightposts died out
gleaming like triggers
gun pushers drugged engines

no widely released lineage
steeped in rotting cords
clueless memorialized slime

full of shit

Railyards and YouTube plotlines

they coalesce

in the monitor rays       unplugged

a pine cone lodged in our throat burnt open by canned heat      blue lubricant
expelled for lonely hours
  ozone stench of mucous membrane

sounds of laughter wafting thru headphone  doorways

           pause by unresponsive fingerprints

Monday, July 8, 2019

cafe table hustle

against the table
the rain like nickles
from some lost pocket
discolored and
to the cold silver
speckled ground

under the tables
the spiders born in
back of taxis
new york to holbrook
never knowing their fathers
ask their mothers
how often in their lives
will they have to
watch the sky fall

and answer over the
endless flooded grate

until they move the tables away
until they put the tables away

Thursday, June 13, 2019

a murder of lost consciousness

a murder of lost consciousness
eclectic turn back torture

any evening after that

where to find her? in london/
like a missing person

with fact. many to go over

no bags, electronic bags no return ticket

wake up immediately. shock. constipation.

search the computer for drowned bodies
no nothing band playing no attendance

without a trace

an unknown smile with intercom
information linked to blood posting

fire chamber no monday. no money

www close your eyes Tom for a rough translation

who was the question the man asked

at the police station online

a triple phone internet of data
led to untimely death

December 1st 2008

a game of russian roulette/ painted walls
out of her mind magenta. high on conspiracy numbers

in fact. buried. original ideas

sleeping heads on the couch

so quickly did you leave. a death. a birth a homicide

Monday, June 10, 2019

poor post-it notes IV

unattended bodies
feel the crawl of each imagined tick

arms outstretched in ready embrace

the minute horror of the lawn
backyard--the unenviable loss of

the growing up of space--forgetfulness
--the slowing of pace--


poor post-it notes III

the old wood that rots in the garage

what are our priorities? leaning into t
the unknown

I borrow a hat     it catches on my thinning

attention span--lifeline--unphoned
ear--youthful mind

I leave what I've brought in honor of
the trash can

poor post-it notes II

stretch like the pale ghost before me

darken my sad child's brown eyes

narrow in thinning periscopic lament
your great unknowable self

become once again the implausible dream

poor post-it notes I

outline the sun
with red cliffs
sand in my lungs
great gobs of dust
float across the gravel road
--america--you forget me
abstain me--I am lost for words
for you--you endless gray cloud
you endless gray arrow
of the heart you endless idea

Friday, June 7, 2019

That day

The sun was setting on the west
over an unknown town
as bright highlights on Pacific waves
everything was different than I would later remember it
where I left my clothes
how the water felt as I plunged into its heart
how long it took to traverse the sand
to traverse the continent 
to survive broken cars and tired deserts 
spring blizzards rocky mounts endless plains
how long from where I stood am I now
how different and less emerald were its shores when we returned
how alien the west seemed then
how different
how remarkable 
how lost
how far away will it ever drift from me
as ever the photos pixelate and fade 
as ever I am trapped in that moment
reliving the memory of a memory of a dream of a longing
watching them static immortal brave children
living in that day eternally
there will be no death no disease no age no ending
on that day