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This is the end though I suppose there will always be more because here I am writing after the fact even if it means saying nothing at all which I’m sure some would say you and I amounted to – the nothing emptiness between two burlap peach sacks during the collapse of a swimming pool … Continue reading
The gun’s grown old and forgetful but I have only grown old because even now my hands are half-closed as though in an embrace and my eyes are narrow as though daylight didn’t bleed and my breath is still as though I need to stop someone elses’ lungs to start my own but I am … Continue reading
I think I will spend a lifetime trying to be comfortable with funerals until I am uncomfortable at my own for I could use a little more elbow space and a lot more daylight * There are days when there are nights when the moon greets the sun with holes in its teeth and when … Continue reading
A good friend of mine joined the military because he wanted to kill someone and I told him I was scared for him and he said I shouldn’t be and I said fine but you don’t have to go through all those hoops just to end a life and he said but I wouldn’t get … Continue reading
Nobody publishes poetry anymore and I am a no body publishing poetry to people like you and I am afraid to waste your time or that you’re hoping for something from me or worse yet is that you’re not and that you’re sick because I am and you are reading this insisting on a cure … Continue reading
I spoke to a dead guy and he said I’ve been waiting for you for a while now and I said how did you know I’d be coming and I flipped the page and he said I didn’t but I hoped and then I watched him die a second time * When I was younger … Continue reading
Dead fish swim near my feet, two people make out far away, a lifeguard blows a whistle over seagulls who avoid the dead fish and sweet couple and lifeguard and poop onto me just I was going to perform CPR on the fish to save it from drowning though I suppose oxygen is the least … Continue reading
Death will rattle so let’s breath fire to scare it away and leave smoke that lingers after we’re gone and after Death realizes we weren’t trying to burn away but instead trying to burn a way to something other than the ash we become * Salvation is a poor excuse and a whore of hope who … Continue reading
Sad steeped poems are the easiest; it’s much harder to write about eating cherries with your feet buried in sand and with a breath of yellow on your diaphragm like a cat around your legs purring as you move against a towel that wraps you in sleep and wakes you up later with the help … Continue reading
I heard there was a poem written that can cure death but I don’t remember how it goes or who wrote it or if it really ever ended, if it just continued and continued even here and in the next and the next until there is no more, but I suppose there always will be … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 