I'm counting on the silent metal rods they hold back the unwanted one two three four five six they hold back the outside there are copies of copies of the insert and one master that can fill any a perfect fit for all somewhere in the deep oblivion of a pocket the clouds and the … Continue reading Apartment F204
reflections
Cataloged
"What's on your mind, _________?" "What's happening?" something needs to be cataloged every minute, Taken into account, the importance of a moment as it passes through some lens of organic matter. We capture the best parts ((what we see as the best parts) and what do we do?) and we turn it, paint it, color … Continue reading Cataloged
Apathy
It is done finished steps have been taken the signatures are signed with pens of hollow souls rolled up dollar bills and one cracked mirror two drops of blood, stretching to reach one another Adam and God sitting on a reflective Sistine Chapel fifteen minutes, sore, broken, dry, wiping away, nothing there, nothing there, nothing, … Continue reading Apathy
“where it stems from”
Not sure where it stems from you know the madness of it all and the funny thing to me the aspect morsel morpheme of thought that makes me laugh is that I begin so many streams in that way "where it stems from" as if as though as the roots of thought clutch like a … Continue reading “where it stems from”
Twenty-Three (or “Twenty-One” Revisited)
Twenty-three. Twenty-two. He's the age of shocking discoveries. Pushing himself to limits that set him back into loops of ecstasy and months of couch ridden recoveries. Drowning himself in lavender and tea tree oil, he meditates his brain into a submissive pulp and the world smiles back by slowly and softly responding to every fifth … Continue reading Twenty-Three (or “Twenty-One” Revisited)
Every Cup of Coffee
You, you, you, you're Me, My, Mine, Ours We're the selfish lovers of post-pot generations planted in the earth with chemicals and multiple jobs, innately raised to hope that things will get better, knowing that nothing can fall into our laps because we're always standing opportunities are, instead, launched with deadly velocity at our crotches, … Continue reading Every Cup of Coffee
Tapestry
The pins fell softly into my palm with a quiet pop. Pulling with them, both the silence of the room and small conical shavings of sheet rock [or of years worth of dried paint, possibly]. The material that the fabric was made of, I did not remember having felt so close in consistency to cheesecloth. … Continue reading Tapestry
“Ars Poetica” [1]
To be a poem I would have to fold myself I would first begin a bending of the arm a twisting of the wrist then, after some strain, the snapping of the ankle the spaghetti noodle of each rib pressing into a bend pressing into an arc pressing in two one piece always flies off … Continue reading “Ars Poetica” [1]
Days of Silence
it's all lost glue and peanut butter the cat ran away with it it's been bitten mouth to mouth Heimlich Maneuver CPR Certified purple lipped finger under nose I rub my cheek feeling the hollowed out cave where it used to sit existing in a rotating desk chair pinched between two incisors all business until … Continue reading Days of Silence
To My Duvet
I do owe you an apology, an apology for leaving so early this morning, I could tell you were begrudgingly allowing me to escape to slip quietly into my shoes and out the door away from our ritualistic torques and contortions away from the far side of the moon; away from empty metal pitchers and … Continue reading To My Duvet
