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cancer is beautiful for it doesn’t discriminate us rotting humans who denigrate and discriminate those who rot with beautiful cancer * every poem is a wet willy resuscitation of childhood that fails for no child would write in poems but instead with their fingers in their ears for there they know themselves and the rest … Continue reading
you have it only to lose it in someone else who has it in them to lose little other than to make you feel it again till it’s gone again into someone else farther from you * every writing is an apology to the face of the future and the child i’ve decayed from in … Continue reading
how do you resurrect a childhood when the man who killed it is still very much alive though he doesn’t feel all too well about this fact with waking again phone again eating again working again sleeping again then waking again again seeing what day it is with phone again again because it seems like yesterday is … Continue reading
like the sun that doesn’t drown in the dead blue sky i disappear in myself through forgetful age and the business of busyness where i miss the shower and move to sweat hoping to find something i lost somewhere i cannot recall but always am reminded of in the morning sludge of light that brings … Continue reading
there are mistakes moving up my nose from sniffing palms and perfumes that i try to blow wayward into the shower the usual germs and snot stuck together to drain and dry in someone else’s water if filtration goes awry but blood comes out instead thick then thin as though all of me is losing … Continue reading
i’m lots of 23 hugging a wall or just laying down splayed like a bird squashed or a fish gutted from the gestation of girls that bounce with a night you could hear if you were listening and around with me moving and putting poetry into the motion of bodies that bind all that can be bound … Continue reading
i wake up each morning and think what poem am i going to ooze today and then i fall back asleep on my desk with slobber working well * so few people have the courage to not be people anymore and too many watch themselves fade in moments of joy and boredom spent awaiting the good … Continue reading
leaves lost on electric lines that can be heard in the summer with the air condition and beams of sun that bake into the darkness but not tonight where they land on quiet orange and green and ketchup red stems limp like little feet of a man hanging or just a boy who used to walk around … Continue reading
angel, take this saw and split my hands from prayer and from my body so that you can wrap them around you like a necklace where you are cradled by me and when I rot in glimmer and sun and warmth you can have other smaller friends, who fed off me lived off me died … Continue reading
when I was little I thought I wanted to be big like my father who I looked up to because he was powerful and strong and handy with a belt against my back so that then when I was a giant who gorged I could show him what it meant to be little, but I … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 