Sunday, August 29, 2010


They want what we don't have,

deep within the ground
where the sun dies a brilliant yellow-orange-purple,
blinding eyes
covered by elbows and hands
torn and old,

the dust is the skin
brown and tasteless
burning off in opaque tired rays
like a parched army navigating
dried rivers and mortal wounds;

I have nothing left.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Behind the fruit salad a simple meaningful love

I'm translating directions
and you laugh
like they're all a jumbled unpaved road,
or you hear and can't understand, 
static sentences thrown together
from the seat of my car,
silent understanding
draped across that bay bridge
curving up into the sky
like a horseshoe buried in the sand,
and the sky is raspberry fire
breathing and burning and pop,
leaving the sweet smell of fruit and salty oxygen
heavy weaving behind your eyes,
sweet almond dark eyes,
bending the rail toward me
in the shallows with waves twisting over,
through the final verse of a late-afternoon song 
and a just empty bottle of nameless pink wine, 
we find our way in the sweet/sour dawn.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010


Don't wait up for me
I've already found the bridge I want,
though, to tell the truth,
it keeps walking away.

there's a noise, better leave the house

She will run away and hide,
let your footsteps trace the distance
ever-wide running distance

out of sight.

to blind eyes and familiar quips,
with pupils too dilated to witness the race
seared on empty soft streets,
like some kind of coquettish mattress


and with a snap something snaps 
like really snaps

ears bleed
focus reality,
some fantasies are disrupted
through the pious clouds
of denial and uneasy laughter,

ringing out into the street
at the crosswalks with the blind un-hearing,
and you lie witness to birth and death.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Good Morning 2010

You'll dance with me
because we recede farther
and farther into the past
each year,
drunk on the seconds that feed
and bloat the minutes that steal youth
from under our noses,

the nights blink into the day
drawing creases across our faces,
haggard and sleep walking sleep
through the sunlit porch,
kids running at your heels,
dogs, cats, breakfast, bacon,
digitized news fritzing in and fritzing out
stained with milk and lucky charms,

god damned machines and man
and god damn worthless one-note trees,
planted eons ago,
hard flesh unused and coddled,
protected except for the Vegans that tear them down
and feed on their souls,
merciless and gravid with self-loving,

white and smooth they devour the past
and welcomes us to the
featureless futures.