in the light

pretend you have two options

there's death and his band of outcasts
riding steely hogs and yelling into the night

and then there're
gentle lambs on their best behavior
the farmer is hungry
he will always be hungry

or you could
find refuge in the lesser known places
the ever closing gap of a lover's folds
twilight in spring on the eastern side
of newly blossomed apple tree

there are better places to be than in the light

Strangers

I followed these strangers to the strangest places
there was much sleeping
a few beaten forms left to perspire

here the heat is nothing to joke about

imagine the coastal regions dry
oceans evenly evaporated
and all those skeletons
all those things that used to be

I'm going to make a list of all things i'll miss
fresh seashells pulled ashore
sand drifting from toes
the way sins are washed away

i'm going to board

in an attempt to find the source
i went back to the place of departure
found the black cat tracks
though foolish and harrowing
were the funniest thing you said all week

I'm going to board now
i'm going to find that lost place
where small hided fiends
toast marshmallows with starry nights
careful, i'll say

a burn isn't as bad as it seems

a million identities stored

i'm going to take the best parts
seal them indiscriminately
in a finely worded letter

golden ink
with crimson edges

one day we will no longer see
the aborted whimseys of radical youths
we will see advancement and
a familiar chair rocking
each of us to sleep

through the rain

I'm desperate to find a way through this
there are obstacles
burning tires stacked
ghosts armed
with intimate memories
and all i want
all i really really want
is to arrive at a time
when rain drops fall
from candy colored clouds
we will know
where we are going
is where we want to be

a poem to read a loved one before sleep

I once heard the only way to see ghosts
was in the rain
something about oil and water
except, their skins
are not oil
only something like it

a lovely night out

there's a notice that reminds us:
TAKE ALL DAYS AS LASTS
we're young and visit brothels
and we don't like to think
about death




a taken for granted doorway
opens up to a romantic mystery
carrying poached ivory canes
we pretend to have limps




if i were to organize my life
i'd use a venn diagram
unattainable
you'd be on the left