he regrets only
not being exposed
vulnerable
haphazardly peeled and strewn
where prospectors take dividends
wire balances to offshore holdings
leave intricate messages with teenage doorman

it's really brutal to realize
a window in the the spring
will eventually bring
sweat to your brow
or worse
black to your tips
where we stay in bed thinking

if only we had the foresight
to walk backwards through time

About Last Night

If you really look closely
you'll only see exhaustion

God takes liberties with the speed of light

there's dew on the stem of a rusted umbrella
we funnel into bottles
we have learned we have wasted

the black night reluctantly gives
to the orange glow of dawn

I hope you enjoyed it.

congratulations on overcoming the best part of life.

a night out with a hint of green

at night mice hang around this bakery
they pick morsels of faith
from the limboed souls clinging
to rays of scattered light
crossing between planes



think about this
the light you promised me
was a million years old
the star long since collapsed
supernovaed, blackholed



at times where interjections are needed
i place cairns discretely beneath the earth
so archeologists working in light
will one day rebuild our faults

if time were cyclical

i'd return
to the best parts
pick them clean
clear away the dust

If time is cyclical
we are immortals
and our bodies would be worms
or we could exist as a point
imagine the perfection of always
holding that eye contact
(after the deaths of everyone)
and the eternal brush of your timid hand

time to start again

i've come to the realization that as i've convinced myself that i am no longer a poet, i've ceased to be anything more than a darwinian bag. It's time to rectify this, to return to my chest, and remember that "the world bothers to be so outstandingly, intricately, and breathtakingly beautiful."