Wednesday, January 15, 2020


We talked for many years. I moved from a room into a room that became another room. The last room. I was until then not accompanied by many voices. Now I was alone. The bodies were still there. They were still aging but they made no sound. I tried to groan. The empty space around me filled with furniture and mirrors. The room adjacent had opened. From it came the light. I entered backward into my former self. I had many more years to go. I smiled like i was the same. I pulled down the windowless shades. I laughed at the smooth beige walls. We talked again for many years. We buried the house without touching ourselves. We had never reached the point.


arc ack
the drag out back
wouldn;t you know
it; clean
like an alleyway
from above only
the slightest hint of
cracks if you
focus right on the
periphery no bottle
is broken
underfoot or pressed
to mouth
they're all perfect
gourd shaped
nature growing from a
concrete schism like a yard
sale;  this alone
does not prove the version
seen is fake just RELATED to
other static commas
coughed out onto that field
between sidewalk and street
a NATURE of problems
growing trash
hack watered down
with acid rain

Thursday, January 2, 2020

dream of a dream

this event is taking place
in a spasm of time     unlike
a dream    i can walk up stairs
without leaning against
a wall      feeling the cold wet
paint against my cheek    carrying
a son to bed    there's a man with a
large feline head waiting in
shadow     this place is carved
out of a nook in my memory
i have been there daily
but here it is never the same
it is unnerving    without
footing     purchase    relief
concrete    there is a realness
to it that is grating    like words
whispered in the dark    failure
fatherhood     around each turn
the hallway creaks    yawns
air heavy and black felt-like
and suffocating     heat
regrettable death