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The bench simmers of forgotten engineering hindsight and heat but the crossed-leg man does not move despite movement around for he is the type to ask you the time before he steals your watch, not to find if you wear a particular brand or if there is a well of gold on your skin but … Continue reading
I had a poem but I forgot it inside your mouth. Years later, when I crumbled into cookies and from them too and when the sun fell more often than it rose and when my hair slipped to gray to nothing, I’m told you spat it out as vomit. * A sun collapses over … Continue reading
Everything is terrible, because capitalism bought our need and confused it with want; because want was not enough; because enough was a concept defined by people who wanted, needed, and confused themselves before we were born; because we were born; because others weren’t, others who could change and mobilize, not be so lazy to sit and … Continue reading
I had flowers today where pollen fornicated my fingers, but a butterfly came, flashed its failed feathers, and robbed the nectar. * Hold a poem against me for I wish to hold you against a poem. * The city crawls across the earth spreading people who spread more people into the same city that coughs … Continue reading
Poetry is sad and starving for everything is left in the barenaked spaces of the lines that flirt and twist each other’s hair into knots that can only be combed out with long kisses and shared breaths and deep, sweet sighs yet the next line comes too quick and tearing, leaving the knot untied and the … Continue reading
The rain falls on a summer’s day for it doesn’t know any better. * There is sun in my eyes so I cannot see that it is a beautiful morning where the birds do sing and the plants do grow and there’s a bustle going on around me and that will go on with out me … Continue reading
The following was inscribed into a book of poetry I tied together with spaghetti. * Dear Studio Y Family, You are where I was, which is a roundabout way to say that I wish I was still there and I was with you. I’d shake your hand. Give you a tour. Show you my favourite … Continue reading
The early bird gets the worm But is it late Or is it early When the sun climbs Over a mouth of darkness And I am awake With worms underneath my feet – The grass a salad of wetness And hungry dirt that licks My soles Into a soon-to-be imprint That I’ll only see When it … Continue reading
Give me prose, short, nasty, crumbling, while I wish for the rocketry of poetry. * The third law states That for every apple There is a tree And a man who Sits underneath it with A belly full of Fruit that grows into Seeds of thought that Leave him wondering what Body is pulling him. * … Continue reading
I have lost a train for I never built a track – Only a tunnel that ate up the light inside. * I birth universes from the biggest bangs and the smallest ones too. I create us with our poems, stories, and books. I shape art for future generations for my shape is art of … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 