earlier the fire trucks
nearly fifteen all
lined from my apartment building
forever down the road
a bunch of fire men out there
running all around
then stopping and talking lightly
what the fuck is going on here
I don’t know there’s no fire
so we’ll figure this out then
we’ll be out of here
like it was nothing
and it is nothing

a scarf is ignited into the air by the ceiling fan
after smoking a glimpse of this from the
corner of my eye is like a strange person materializing
into the thin and back out specifically down
there is a scarf on the ground
my head is fucking around

a day not an adventure to the beach this one
decided against the rain brought by tropical storm
burning the midnight oil
grinding the 1 AM grave

feel your face explode with possibilities
words like liabilities
air lush
push the hush around
signally signify

diamonds are forever
divorce is forever

there is a pot leaf on my bed drawn on
to a sheet of paper today’s
first and last one
don’t want for my feet to be cold
creativity is surging in my bones
I just sit back and laugh and laugh
this time I write about the time guessed to the minute
if you ask me sometimes I really nail it
there is a glow in my forehead
shooting pain in my chest
an angel to talk to
“he’s coming tonight
he’s coming to kill you
get out of that house”

news for the captives
Gettysburg getup
living the nightmare

whizzing by
the invention of themselves

fired from their jobs
in the chamber

old gents tilt over in their remainders
who write letters to the president
no one believes their empty promises any more

until four more years pass and then it’s
amnesia at the polls

flock to the polls in this dead man’s gait
it’s not like they’re opening the
gates of Macy’s on Black Friday

which concentrates on the coming
of our Christmas Day our lord


speak your silent name into the typewriter
the lies you tell will win you
medals and accolades
speak your silent name in earnest
as an ear rest or near arrest one can attest
close calls seek closure and
in Jah what we seek is the companionship
a promise kept like connection
when we claim we stop seeking
parts of us still are
perhaps while we’re not looking
which could explain for
the dehydration and internet addiction
a name like a calling card never called upon
loosely slipped from grasp
digits evaporate people as steam rises
from hot asphalt inside the belt of sunlight
we don’t know how to say
or communicate the breakdown
soon to be parentals dig down
the silent name you’re rounded into
introduced to a hard edged gunfire
walk kick scream jump
try not to get jumped
the jacket off your back
speak of giving nature
it’s all in the brochure
after we
tear the billboards down
or iron new ones over the old ones
no time to advertise
just a deadline
we needed this yesterday


I know you can hear this, all of it. Two hours in the clouds they go by. A surprise is a surprise but I’ve got you down. The spirit of my past crouches in the hallway. I hear the ceilings are to die for.

Try again like always right? Don’t stop. Give it get it. Hand it over. The dope shit. Don’t look at me cross-eyed. I’m tired of your crossed eyes.

Crossed eyes film news by ten or eleven before bad dreams appear in the foreground.

Better to be recording your life experience for awhile a little something for the imaginary grand kids. Try again the holiday cruise is squished. Like always right?

On Monday a plane in the friendly skies is better than a derailed train in the desert. Bald men who got over their envy took the scenic route Tuesday. It was a sunny day. The holiday route. When they stopped looking for jobs and dads became the moms and the moms set out to pasture, jewelry store robberies were the norm. If the junior high school nerds could find a place to belong they would’ve destroyed us by now. Why now? Why not now?

I’m tired of your crossed eyes. The ninth unexpected organism is a man resting in a giant salad bowl waiting for his three hookers to arrive. The service in this place is awful and awful. A wrecked house with a shop attached to it wants to know who snuck in and did the art. Put the work in so you can say you did some fucking art. Put the work in so you can say you did some fucking art. High art. The jagged parts.


can’t switch that
evening track
when it’s jazz
goin at ya
mindfulness date
it’s a date
look at how
gentle they
are on
this thing
on best
she comments
on his
I’m just
out of
in the
of the afternoon
just ya know being
myself really
flicking off friends
on the side of the road
who are waving
hellos at me in passing
I’m cold and exacting
in this life or another
I write on napkins and
they look at me
“he’s got the nerve
to write poems on napkins”
I say I’m pure with flaws
you say I’m pure flaws
you say I’m pure no more
I say I’m pure on holiday
there’s nothing else I wanna take off
or get to take off
it’s not like you wanna land in the trees
holy fuck I’m not stuck no more
leave pure to pure milk colored milk
playing around inside the glass
but I’m making progress and progress is gorgeous
not hammered impaled or bludgeoned to death
not the excremental seance
of a board meeting saying they see things
things are on an upswing
then my grandmother died
a friend died
and we’re waiting for the next one to die
while we’re in the middle
of this upswing
jobs are hiring
if you want a shit job
they’re in the trees
where they’ve always been
I’m mad because I’m in love
understand I’m not mad because of love
mad because vast parts of the world
aren’t in love
this kinda talk
smoke spins at the ceiling
if you’re trying to follow my meaning
I’m trying to follow yours
and we’re in this shit together
your pain is mine
but you know added suffering is more of a coating
not the real thing
we get into a mess
I got a year long gripe with the New York Times
it won’t let me sit here and be the universe
if you don’t believe you’re the universe
I don’t either