Thursday, November 8, 2018


I swear your love is like candy
Amber glean within your eyes
And a sleepy waning mixture
Of your loving and your lies
Like a symphony of cries
I am not prepared to hold you 
Or the amber in your eyes

Ive got a wax cap over me
Now I am the honey
Waiting on the bees
Waiting on the world
To devour me
Fermented and dripping
From all this time
In the sweet crystal slime
Missing all of mine
Missing all of mine

And she cracks like
Hard candy
Tossing on the tongue
In love but on the run
And she is inside of me
In on in on in
On in on in on in 
She splits wide open
Just like the pages of a book
And I slept real soundly
Through all of the time it took
And now I’m hooked
And she’s addicted to the honey
So my goose is cooked
She peeled back the wax cap
And took a taste and took a look

Honey drips like syrup
On a hot summer day
In the winter it’s molasses
Won’t come out to play
Without a lot of pressure
Better if it stays
In the Honeycomb
In the Honeycomb
In this sticky home
All alone
In the honeycomb
Where it lays

And you are
A beautiful vision
Through the amber glassy case
But I am turning ugly
drifting away
Inside this place
Afloat In this concoction
I am changing
As my nectar melts  away
And I’m feeling drunk and different
Theres a darkness that has stayed
Floating in the honey
My love just melts away
Suspended in the honey
There is a darkness that has stayed
But that’s all ok
It’s easier this way
And if the bees have a short winter
I may be spared from my demise
And I’ll be brewing into flavors
Of the aged and the wise
Behind the wax cap
Where I’m changing
Maybe then I’ll be deserving
Of the amber in your eyes…

Monday, February 26, 2018

inertia, beat

quiet again
and darkness pulled
around like a too-heavy
bearing down on feet
to burden ankles
and make me 
painfully aware
of my breathing
and then
and repeat
sometimes life is a
or feels like
cold bars and no where
to hide
yet a monotone
of time
echoes in the air
like the aware dreamer
or the cinematic ear-drums
after an explosion
i wish i were weightless
suspended in the river
but it is winter still
and canons of summer
sit snowed over
and still
and i am here without
to make my
just a box of
sad clown makeup
bottom of a trunk
in a dusty hall closet
for years
inertia slithers like
a serpent
on a deluge of
the plans,
the list
the procrastination
of weariness
and fear
what once was conqueror
now is conquered
and tired
the white flag of
the worn out soldier
just older now
and down
like a sheet on the
and licking wounds
that have long
since healed
but they
so real
quiet again
and the darkness 
pulls down
like a too-heavy sheet
on the man
where the heart
and the gravel
what once 
is now

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Seven. Thirty. Two.

i waken into darkness
like the shadow line on the shoulder
of a young blond girl
a single page
and the pounding heart
let me up
i cannot justly  
hold on here
i am mean,
a terrible sorrow
of nothing
a hiding place of distant radios
through thin walls
in the mindfulness
of experience
gained from favorites
while what i do
undone again
with a sigh
happy birthday
a casual fuck
with a stranger
a species
of the mind
the mind rests
but for the subtle
electric tick
of a small thing begging to
come alive
and twitching to be larger
than life
like the morning
the sadness
an unending balm
to soothe from the world
to distract
from terror
like slapping your leg
to soothe a bee sting to
the shoulder;
fuck this,
she came
to see me
so i'm out....
a lucky boy
and she in this
bold yellow dress
holding a tray of 
tapas at a party
she is wet and
looking at 
the man in
the corner
she is my artistic drive
sick of the boring
of daily distractions
succumbing to work
but there is a wild world out there
and i want to
and feel
and fuck!
i want to wake up 
from this slumber
sleepy head
a birthday present
because you inspire
wake up!
it's tuesday morning
a time for skin to
rise to meet me
it's tuesday morning
and for fuck's sake
i am still here...
and you are a pile
of ragged clothes
strewn on occupation
stripped and tangled
in the cotton
in the infuriating
golden sunlight
you are lucid
and i am gripping
with a (spoon) a firm
you could feel
it's true
it's 7:32

Monday, March 21, 2016

Dischord (the scarring)


Yeah i said it
and so she walked on out my door
shouting words she aimed at pictures
nothing more, nothing more

painting me into a corner
in the corner of her mind
i was a dark bar with loose doors
and open all the time

she was a yellow light
outside in the moths and the heat
a sea of contemplations
when it always came to me

and in the swiftness of night
she cut the flesh from the marrow
the thin line slithering on the floor
dirty floorboards with blood slopped emissions
nothing more, nothing more

my soul spot with the dancing crowd
where my demons died out in the sea
but linger out beyond the light
this was church for me

good and greasy with the backbone beat
the place where good time people meet 
come to breathe and shake the devil
from their bodies when they are weak

i was the water until she arrived
then i was suddenly man inside
and my transcendence gone
she was only a song or a whore
nothing more

and here i am all empty inside
a flopsack from the ride
lying on bloody floorboards
where i used to beat my devils
but now she has soaked through the foundation
and laid me outstretched and on the level

and she's blind as hell so she can't see
the slithering mess she's made of me
when i used to be the water
that shook them weary bodies
and cleansed the whole damned sea

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

waiting...dripping time/hospital syrup

the waiting
dripping in time
like watching the deep
yellow tar of a smoker
sliding slowly down
the wallpaper
much time 
tied up
like molasses

the sun burns in 
through the clearly 
cleaned window
searing fancy maple chairs
and easily washable 
vinyl couch cushions
printed to look like fabric
inviting at first glance
and fly traps
after an hour
the prey stuck
and waiting
to be devoured
the sweet reprieve
to the endlessness

watching as the 
occasional head popping
of many to the same 
cell phone ringer
sporatically springing forth
from the corners of the

some sit and work
knowing their 
loved ones
will be o.k.
some seem much
more concerned
and look up 
with wide eyes
each time the columbian
answers her phone
'meant to grab a coffee'
'sharon went where on vacation?'
and sometimes 
what sounds
like an important set
of numbers
or updates as
the weary sitter's waiting
like cold molasses but it's hot...
blazing sunlight 
reading papers
or noisily and nervously
crinkling the mint wrapper
long after the sugar
has gone

one late comer,
unconcerned son
sitting next to 
his weepy eyed
talking fast and
keeping him on the ropes as
he tries to keep
his composure
but after a while
it worked
as a dam of
did its job
to quiet the beast
of his imagination

the coffee maker
has stopped 
gurgling hours ago
and I watch janitors
dance by
a matter if fact ballet
of the daily grind
amid the biggest days
for some here
laying around the room
and the whispers of hope
aming the whispers 
of doom

There have been no 
tears yet
from the side room of 
seems like a good day
but the sun burns in
and the time still dripping
like a lollipop
left on a dash
of a black car
in the sun

we are here
among the lower concerns
waiting to visit
after a long but
somewhat easy thing
thankful i'm not the 
lady to my right
they've spoken to her
than the others
not quite touch and go
hands crossed 
in moments
prayers perhaps
or just nervous 
or maybe memories 
to stay her

we are all here in limbo
like one soul
any of us will need
to endure a tragedy
for any one here
the breathing room
the lung of the hospital
the waiting room
were, it is so that
we will all be required
together to ride the waves
the wailing widow
would be also be our sister
the brother to a younger
one, that doesn't pull through
this burning room
the leaning card house
the tinderpile by the
strike-anywhere matches
or maybe the long dry wasteleand to walk out of the desert,
we are somehow here
one humanity
one people
in this iron lung
in the blue wing
of this hospital
a place to be together
a kind word or pleasantry
a non personal question
that might spark a short
edges if humanity
that seldom connect
or overlap
an interesting
place to find
one of those rare 
and random
and the small politennesses,
acts of kindness
that sometimes seem lost in this
modern mode
of existence;
but here
no race
no religion
just worry and boredom
tossed in a hot pot
to simmer down
into a gooey weariness
of humankind
spread out on the floor
like syrup
waiting to
from the
burning sun
and the vinyl furnature

and will it end?
for me, yes
but less for the 
columbian receptionist
with the tired limp
her name, maria
calling out news and names
names with updates

and less yet will it end 
for the room,
the burning room
will be here 
much longer
slowly boiling down
the worried people
into a human syrup
for a brief moment
each day...
and this terrible time
just dripping away...

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Fanfare (or: testify, barfly after another saturday night)

there are no fans
no fanfare for the adoration
of the lonely man
standing there
his face in his hands
his heart on his sleeve
beware what he plans
he plans to tear them apart
from the inside out
they will scream and will shout
as he sings the lullabies
that keep them in the dark
of their loneliness
hungry for the spark
of something new
but the only thing new here
is you
i will


i found god
i did
i found him
i found god
he was not in church
he was in my nieces eyes
i found god
he was not in a book
he was in the morning sky
i found god,
he did not come with rules
he was in a fishing trip with my boy
i found god
he was definitely not in what the preacher said
he was not judgement on high
i found god
he was not the trojan horse
carried in words of people
who said that they did not judge but did often
who spoke of compassion but practiced it seldom
and had hard rules for gay folks that never would soften
who said they accepted
but did so with conditions
and so did so in damaging ways
i found god
he did not look down
from a shallow perspective
fraught with his own fears and judgmental ways
i found god
and he needed no money
and if he had it, he'd give each cent away
i found god
he was not promising virgins
buy he was giving free love away
i found god
he was not building armies
he was trying to keep hatred at bay
i found god
he wasn't sending down miracles
to prove a single damned thing in that way
i found god
it took forever to find him
nearly impossible for mankind to see
i found god
he was not the head of the household
in fact he wasn't even a he
i found god
he thought your borders were foolish
or he would have painted big labels
to keep them that way
i found god
he did not side with Israel or Palestine
but would prefer if they put the guns away
i found god
he was shocked by genital mutilation
in both the physical and psychological ways
i found god
he was not hurtful to others
in defense of his religion
in fact he'd rather no one would harm in his name
i found god
and he hated big talkers
"go do some actual good," he would say
i found god
not with capital letters
who sat on the level with me
i found god
he was not soaked in hubris
he was pure as a breeze on a hot summer day
i found god
and he was not demanding
but had hoped it wouldn't all go this way
i found god
astounded by false prophets
ones who swore they were prophets
and would read this and still swear
they hold the answers
shunning other false prophets away
and who quote words written by other false prophets
who swear its what god meant to say,
who kept his actual words or intentions at bay
because it didn't quite serve them
and that is the true sinner's way
i found god
he did not believe in enemies
he believed allies, and aid
i found god
he did not believe in 'owning' great riches
while others went hungry each day
i found god
he looked at me with sad eyes
and asked why men find what they want holy texts to say
and discredit everything that contradicts
and quote half truths and half facts
to prove that it 'must' be that way
i found god
he was very explicit
that 'actually' is the most damaging thing man can say
but of course thats something i shouldn't actually say
it's to dangerous to 'quote' him
certainly in black and white
what he means is most surely quite grey
i found god
i would not purport to put words in his mouth
but he a very sad sight to have seen
i found god
he was not in the word 'brother'
but he loved in a brotherly way
i found god
he was in a same sex couple with in utero children
who loved them exactly the same
and who would bring them up better
than the 'practicing christian'
and not damage their mind or soul along the way
and who would love them the same if straight or of gay
i found god
he did not say hurtful things to others
just because a book instructed him to think in that way
i found god
disappointed in his flock,
who had decided for everyone what he'd meant to say
and had missed the mark by a mile
and went far astray
i found god
he was sitting by a pile
of all of the religious books
and he was sobbing hard
and crying
in an inconsolable way
and i stood for awhile
and watched as his tears fell
in small drops
in contrition
and i could say nothing
since i also am human
and the burden of that failure
i cannot possibly shoulder today
i found god
he was absolute beauty
and absolute horror
to see him there so out of faith
i found god
and although i lived well by example
i looked on him and felt nothing but shame
i found god
but he had given up on you people
so completely
i just had to turn myself also sobbing
and shamefully just walk away....

i found god
buy i had no words to say
i found him and he was fragile
and i am not yet humble enough
to help him find the way
yes, i found god
but what could i say?
'sorry 'bout the assholes,
-have a nice day!'