Sunday, September 28, 2014

Save Me

This one's called "Save Me"

The yellow glow from
the shadeless filament casts
halfhearted glares on my
living room window

I'm staring - staring at
myself, faded colors

Now the night gets
colder, rain turns to hail that
clicks on the glass like
bullets from heaven

crackles are shackles
from the embers of
burnt oak that
breathes shadows
on the walls

A merry chime
from the grandfather clock
and I'm done seeing me
but I still stare

outside blackness turns
dark purple as dawn arrives

My face lessens in the window;
it's almost gone now
I see headlights at
the edge of the driveway -
at the edge of darkness,
and they meet my eyes and
blind me

Friday, September 19, 2014

We Made Ourselves

Here's an instance
real instance
"gather up the slit-eyes -
take them out west"
out past tribal lands
with lakes of gin
and streams of questions

but we weren't part of that
boots made by chink children
somewhere in Bangkok and
baht flowing like soy sauce
into someone's gullet

traps eyes of a woman's stare
and thanks his praising boys
never once looked down
and thought of the children

we made ourselves
we worked really hard
we went to school
we are here and
they are there

comatose humility
white owl eyes
Ford tough skin
fossils of privilege


Thursday, September 11, 2014

Singularity, Movement, Decay

Walking past
Simple "hi"
Stardust tongue
Galaxy eyes

Big plans
Growing old
Slurping marrow
Gone tomorrow

Tuesday, August 12, 2014


Don’t make me sit alone,
dull and languid, by myself
with nothing but a mental image
of the person who sharpens me

Tantalizing advertisement
Promiscuous temptation
Quick pitch from Billy Mays
and a piano crashes onstage

a smack to the face,
blunt force
cheeks red
proverbial dream

Sunday, August 3, 2014


I called your name through
frost-bitten lips - my face so close
to the glass that it fogged up and
I knew you ignored me and
I really should have wrote my message in
the window that day but I didn't because
I thought you wouldn't see me

Monday, July 14, 2014

Monday, July 7, 2014


See the zombified walk of kids casting downcast eyes to tempting gadgets,
out on the sidewalk avoiding talk of heat-seeking missiles,
whose parents struggle to find money for crucial combustion,
whose teachers are sued for evil or tempting eyes,
a generation that is an infirm and soothing promise to the generation before,
who cannot do anything without computers,
who sees benefits from grass picked and fostered
by hippie mystics frequently accused of wiTcHCraft,
whose main gimmick consists of here and now
but remains distracted by menacing debt,
who shuns ideas with blind eyes and
use tips of fingers as earplugs
against words waving through air,
whose nation is built on airborne steel balls
and diplomatic dick measuring,
who munch on pills for every perceived ailment,
who go through discomfort for the greater good.