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."

the room is a white palace. there're tables symmetrically lined with cloths topped by candles. there's an endless buffet of food rich with nutrients. lights sparkle the ceiling like stars sparkle the sky. here we dance high on drugs. i personally recommend the leftover valium. some of us were explicitly not invited, but smoked joints in our cars before coming in. it is a celebration and the wine is free. tonight, for once, we don't have to consider all we fail to be. some of us are to vain to have a good time, other too high to arrive on time. most of us are early. our lives are empty. we have no better place to be. there are women dressed in roses picked before their blooms. men who spent the afternoon rolling in grass. i suppose we are all green when it comes to dancing. some of us are more gorgeous than others. we have dressed in white, shades picked from summer clouds, our falls have passed our winters warmed. but most of us, in this white room, are sullen and black, sneaking pills into each others' drinks. but the night could night advance, nor could it succeed, until we blew out all the candles--bringing darkness to light.