• Blank page

    Blank page

    Product of burning anxiety

    Panic attacking from all angles

    The computer seems to be carrying charge

    The screen too bright

    The room beginning to constrain and constrict

    The music becomes discordant 

    heartbeat and ragged breath become all consuming

    Laptop closed as the user rises

    Hands clammy grip the breast 

    Again the monster of demon dreams returns

    Until in painting breath and muttered mantras

    It is forced back into the hell from which it emerged

    It’s chemical trace still causing a cascade of adrenaline

    Its memory too sharp

    Its return unpredictable, yet certain

  • Peachy Dao

    In my soul

    The peach blossoms are in bloom

    Pink and resplendent in the Dao’s rays

    The float away on the wind

    Time moving their fragile pedals

    Of to bloom another season

    And here and now

    To ripen into juicy soft fruit

    Covered in downy fuzz 

  • A Dream On The Golden Horizon

    A dream on the golden horizon

    A gilded porch 

    To sit and watch the universe unfold and bloom

    A substance flowing down over the seats

    A sustaining flow

    Of liberty and peace

    A warmth, submerging the spectators in the Way

    Until dusk’s last pastel flourish

    Reveals the sparkling resplinance

    Of our place in the universe

  • Slouching Stillness

    A slouching stillness flows from my elbows on up

    Memories of a rainy night

    Cold and dreary

    But warmed by years of distance 

    And a longing for that city 

    Perhaps not the city persay

    But the moment of life when I called it home

    When from the rooftop on warm days

    When the sun was setting off to the west and the city spread out before me 

    I felt the future moving me 

    Yet I was lost in its way

    Pleasantly driftwood

    Smiling at the future

    And the possibilities in the multitudes

    I shared this city with

    Spread out in concrete brick and steel

    All painted purple by the rays of the fading day

    And glowing in the coming night.

  • Orange and Verdant

    Orange temple roof,

    Weathered by centuries of monsoon rains

    Amongst verdant jungle growth

    The saffron on monks flashed

    And the deep gold of Sidhartha

    Enthroned though unmoved

    Smiling down upon an ancient

    Former glorious capital 

    Of a once hidden kingdom

    Now soaked in tears

    Crushed by tyrants

    Yearning to breathe free

  • Streets Named For Writers

    In stepping stride

    I walk the same streets

    My foreign countenance in your native place

    My unaccustomed eyes

    Blinded by the mercury glow of the streetlights

    Your voice echos off canyons of concrete

    And your verse winds through balconies

    In the cool evening breeze of a waning summer

    I follow the fleeting scent of your memory

    Through the warrens of life you once inhabited

    And whose song

    You sang for the world to hear

  • Ox/Tiger

    Ox becomes Tiger

    The trees have shed their purple flowers

    A cascade of lavender fragrance

    Marking a subtle transition

    In the streetlights a single chopstick lies in a gutter

    Broken at the top where it was split

    A meal had, food consumed

    Now disunited and discarded

    Half a memory left as memorial

    It will weather in the summer sun 

    Celestial seasons pass

    Silent in the violet abyss

    Thoughts drift in eddies and currents

    Drawn down an emerald river 

  • Various Salads

    Potato salad will go bad if left out too long

    Pork salad will too

    If that’s even a real thing

    Flowers bloom and wilt

    So goes nature

    In the fleeting pause

    Between motion and stillness

    Between floating and hovering

    In that flash of a moment

    The entire universe unfolds

    If we catch it

  • Heavy Atoms

    The pinks of sunset eyes

    Blinking in the fading twilight

    Heavy atoms of long lost stars

    Coagulated and refined

    Ordered in shells and valances

    Visible to my pilgrim eyes

    Beauty borne of the cosmos’ strident efforts

    Between the setting of one star

    And the glowing resplendence of little bits of millions

    I choose the later

    And the heavy atoms of me bask in glorious solidarity 

  • Patagonia Triplet

    In silent saunters

    And in deep azure glow

    The stars drift above the gentle, lapping waves

    On the time worn beach neutrons fall

    Fired out and well traveled

    Upon these sylvan shores

    Lost to time, though exalted by man

    Guide to our lost wonderings

    Guardian of our saccharine dreams 


    Beneath my cone burdened baughs

    The water of four thousand snowmelts

    Thunder past in their seasonal, ebbing tide

    Just beyond the sipping straws of my roots

    The water slowly takes its gritty tole upon the granite

    With each lick and wash taking the river bed deeper

    Away from my verdant needles and cracking bark

    To the glory of the sun and the weight of the snow

    I have dedicated my patient growth

    In the kind company of fungi and lichen 

    I have passed my millenia 

    Upon this rock I stand, withered and old

    But youthful in my sylvian journey 


    Glaciers thunder in cascading triumph

    An angelic symphony from on high

    Sounding froth from the trumpets and horns

    Of ice enthroned upon volcanic caldera 

    From the punishing rays of the sun

    Resplinant with gamma rays and heat

    The notes of destruction are harmonized and honed

    Until in orgasmic harmony melody flows forth

    Smashing upon the cymbals of rock

    And echoing down the sonorous valley

  • Fatigue


    Claws around the eyes

    Like smile induce wrinkles

    Cut by too many peals of laughter

    Now a chasm of long blinks and yawns

    The spring sunshine a lullaby

    Gently suggesting that dawn’s rise be compensated

    The dream/reality balance restored

    By drifting into the passing clouds of the mind

    And letting those heavy lids fall

    Productivity be damned

  • Blooms and Burns

    It’s just a little too much

    When the chicken is burned

    And still undercooked

    The woman is beautiful

    And somehow pissed

    Maybe it’s the chicken

    Perhaps it’s the budding of the flowers

    Giving her visage a run for its money

    We’re all fucked in our own little ways

    Especially the new flowers

    Who like all beauty

    Flourish and wow

    Then fade and fall

    After them, the decline

  • 250th Post

    Oh now we’re really rolling,

    Down though the seas of mist

    Hearts beating with the wings of ibis

    Songs of cetaceans calling us on

    Beyond the snows and crags

    Far to the other side of the glaciers

    Where the dying rays of the sun

    Slip away, only to illuminate again

    When again the beaks of birds chirp

    And dew settles

    On freshly bloomed orchids

  • Perhaps


    Flowers bloom

    Bass slowly reverberates

    Hearts beat

    Tectonic plates shift

    Brooms collect dust

    Security guards watch the world bored

    Smooth flattens wrinkles

    Souls transported by gentle melodies

    To heavens on Earth

    Beyond conflict and pain

  • Taiwanese Mountain Peach

    In a wooden basket, on the peripheral of a busy sidewalk,

    Elevated Train rumbles above and cars thunder past,

    A peach, perfect in every way, awaits a hungry mouth.

    Bourne on a farmer’s motorbike,

    From the verdant mountain orchard which gave it birth

    Now it waits in resplendent glory

    Nurtured by the sun, sold under the full moon

    The arc of its creation manifest in its deliciousness

    Sweet ambrosia of loamy soil and gentle sun

    And the delicate hands of a loving farmer

    When the mountain peach is tasted

    The faithless man believes

  • The End of the Beginning

    Months, years of the same

    Uncertainty the traded currency

    Doubts in gold and silver

    The whispers of the past

    Played in easy dances to smooth tunes

    On dancefloors a blaze in laser light

    Echo out from dreams

    And again

    The promise of their return is afoot 

    Perhaps again the night will be sweated out

    Again the music will blare

    Endorphins with course through eager veins

    This torrid devalued currency will be replaced

    At a rate of millions of one

    With something new 

    Bank notes inscribed with hope 

  • Praising Chakrasamvara

    Chanting from the depths of life

    From the core of humanity

    In rising tonal madness

    The veil of illusions is lifted

    Beneath the Banyan’s weeping boughs

    A glimpse of the eternal

    The flow of space time

    From immemorial to eternal

    Thundering in crimson and gold

    Rolling down from the abode of snow

  • Flute

    Vibrations of bamboo

    Wounded soul lamenting

    A note drawn out

    The universe pauses

    Tone hangs in the air

    Silence again enthroned

  • Technicolor Deity

    A dream, 

    On the cold breeze of dawn

    Moving the frost crisp leaves

    Stirring the pine down

    Leaving my tumbling mind

    Departing those tumbling billows

    Taking flight from my pillow

    Leaving only the ego behind

    Yearning for the world

    That danced in resplendent technicolor

    Illuminating planes of unknown existence

    Making an utterly ordinary someone 

    The creator and destroyer of worlds untold

    Dethroned from on high

    Returned to the mundane

    To the screeching symphony

    And harsh cacophony

    Of a fucking alarm clock

  • Empire’s Ancient Lands

    In rolling steppe I found my feet

    Brittle grass crunching under my feel

    Summer sun low on the horizon

    Shadows long in the treeless expanse

    A sacred wind blew 

    Cold, dry, aimless on the plain

    I, alone, heard it’s song

    Its whispered melody

    Bearing down on my like a galloping horseman

    Bow drawn, aim steady

    Deep into my soul the tune pierced

    Its vibrations matched the rhythm of my heart

    Throat sung harmony of proud people

    Of conquest and empire

    Tears and blood

    Glory and suffering- bastards alike, 

    Now unwritten history, sung only on the wind

    Fading into the dark of deep winter

    Whose specter haunts the vast and empty steppe 

  • Possum Blues

    The slide, glass and smooth

    Slides on the strings

    Rhythm of a rumbling freight

    Southbound with a heavy load

    The pain screams out of every note

    Heartbreak, sorrow, disappointment

    Years of shit vibrate out from the meeting of glass and string

    Giving meaning to such sorrow

    Down where the Mississippi flowed dark and turbid

    Between banks of the suffering, oppressed, poor

    Sound echoed off the willow and the driftwood

    In fields and houses the guitar wailed

    And in the midst of such pain

    Even the angels on high turned an ear

    Man, like his brother Jesus, was transfigured in glory

    Redeemed through suffered deprivations immortalized in song

  • A Phosphorescent Flash

    In the sunshine, the weight pushes down on the city

    The moments, fleeting, pass

    Unremarked, with a bored disdain

    In a phosphorescent flash

    A plume of magnificent light

    Shouldering the downward thrust

    Doldrums turn to sailing winds

    Dreams of another future dawn

    Bubbles of hope surface

    Flights of fancy depart

    Bound for unknowable horizons

    Far beyond these dreary shores

  • The Winter Blues

    The moment, 

    The tingle when happiness vanishes

    And it its warm place

    A terrible chill settles it

    In a heartbeat,

    In the slow ticking of quartz movements

    What was once so resplendent

    Becomes an unfathomable memory

    Optimism settles down to bitter cynicism

    Laughter fades to sighs

    And the warm light of day

    Fades into deep, long night

  • Hot Hits of ’97

    A sweet guitar melody

    A memory of days past

    When the sunflowers danced

    In long summers

    Where the stereo in a station wagon

    Played the tunes that would define

    Periods of a life yet defined

    On the winter wind the melody now floats

    Where bare branches replaced blooming flowers

    The winter’s night cannot contain

    The overflowing joy of notes connected to memories

    Sweet days of childhood

    Expressed in major and minor harmonics

    Past, but not forgotten 

  • Blown Chaff

    Universes created in the closing of an eye

    Destroyed in the opening of another

    Powerful, beautiful songs

    Sung in glorious harmony

    Melodies forgotten at dawn’s rays

    Winds of image and memory

    Blown chaff floating in neuron sunbeams

    A muezzin’s call from the soul

    Imagination given infinite form

    The dancing sufi’s refuge

    Landscape of Gautama’s snake sheltered wisdom

    In the shade of our duvets banyans

    The universe is manifest within

  • Москва

    A fragment of a tune

    Drifts from a distant memory

    Rolling over my my consciousness

    Taking me back to dreams once imagined

    Pine trees and stalinist apartments

    Coffee stained subway plans

    Cyrillic calligraphy above golden icons

    Never actually transmitted by my optic nerve

    Created from the ether of my fantasies

    Real and unreal 

    Born of broken leg induced boredom

    Numbed, soften by painkillers

    Articulated by bass heavy Dub 

  • Her Apartment, Her Tunes

    The dropping of the beat

    The wail of the singer

    Takes me back to her apartment

    Incense stick burning

    45 rotating

    Music spreading into the evening’s thunderstorm

    We sat on beanbags

    Soaking in rhythm and humidity

    Condensation on beer cans

    Sweat on foreheads

    Whale brand smokes smouldering on a plate

    Dishes soaking in the sink

    Heartbeats thumping in time

    With a banging track

    From the minds of two boys from liverpool 

    Echoing out of the speakers

    Echoing out of time

    Speaking across sonic frontiers

  • An Indigo Carp

    A peach tree

    Blossoming pink, tender

    In riotous color beside a stream

    A puffy cloud

    Reflected in the rushing water

    Shadow passing over the wet rocks

    An indigo carp

    Swims lazily upstream

    Soaking in the beauty

  • Insomnia

    Insomnia ticks off

    The moments of the dark starlight

    Where restless eyes

    Fight for closure

    Fight to dream

    In vain, though,

    Release is elusive

    The hands on the clock continue their relentless march

    Towards awaiting dawn

    Dream deprived thoughts

    Marinate in a singular desire

    For the rest that will not come

    Circles of ideas chase tails

    To do lists repeated ad nauseam

    Until eyes glow red in the darkness

    And the break of dawn

    Creations resplinant restart

    Is met with frustrated tears

  • Desert Flowering

    The clouds drift

    Patchy in the aird sky

    The sands shift amongst shrubs

    Berms in perpetual, aching movement

    Alone on a spiny blade

    A pink flower opens to the sky

    Its petals and stamen dance in the wind

    In defiance of the dry air

    The flower glistens with its own dew

    A colorful contrast in the sea of tan

    The axis upon which the desert turns

  • Tonal Glacier

    The bass line blasted in harmonic frequencies

    The spectral soundings

    Of immense glaciers of sound

    Bearing down upon me with slow, inexorable speed

    I, strapped into my headphones, could but brace

    Waiting for the inevitable hit

    Of sonic ecstasy

    Of the perfect resolution

    To the cacophony of dissident chords

    Into the Omega point of pure tonal enlightenment

  • River bank, Sunset

    The rustling of dry leaves

    The crunch of stone

    The lonely call of a magpie

    And the solitary whistle of a locomotive

    Lost in the evening mist

    From banks of languid, brown waters

    To gentle tided coastal inlets

    My heart wanders

    Far, far above the pollution and grit

    Far from the grim progress industry has gifted

    Away from the mill of souls and its high hill of human tailings

    To a verdant island

    And warm cinnamon skin, bathed in pastel sunsets

  • Kampoks in the Sun

    In spring the kampoks will bloom

    Petals opening to the warming sun

    Thick drops of rain will wash them

    And beauty will abound them

    Until wind rustles them from their hold

    Down they will fall to a busy sidewalk

    Trampled under shuffling feet

    In their brief, glorious display

    Their color will stand above a people weeping

    For their dreams blossomed then fell

    Trampled under thundering boots

    Though the kampok’s blooms will return

    When again winter gives way to spring

    Will the sacred, beautiful future be dreamt again?

  • Saccharine Whispers

    A fleeting sensation

    The breath of a different time

    A hymn of the past

    Floating on the breeze

    The vague outline eludes focus

    Memories of sunny days

    Spread wide on tranquil waters

    Ballads of naive youth

    Time in its inexorable line

    Glances backwards

    Back to halcyon days

    Which refused to fade 

    And haunt memories

    With a kiss of their saccharine joy

    Sweet nothings of childhood

    Whispered into aged ears 

  • Delight in Blue

    A patch of blue in the wall of grey

    Steeling across the wide sky

    White edge illuminated in the long rays

    Of a weak autumnal sun

    Around the density of grey abounds

    Thick, moist, it lays upon the morning

    But this Oasis is above me

    Opening the heavens to a sea of pure azure

    Delight of dawn’s rays

    The eye of a mountain storm

    The trees and sway and dance

    In anxious premonition

    Foreboding in their leafy harmonies

    I sit serene in the well of blue

    The future will be, the present is my only possession

    -And it is beautiful 

  • Yudhisthira, Chained

    Blowing wind

    Golden clouds

    In rapid flight

    Trees in groaning dance

    The heater warm on my feet

    If, of all fates written for men

    All diligent scribbling in stories

    Have destined me to stand

    At this spot to gaze

    Deep into the morning mist

    To see a golden sunrise

    Then I am as Yudhisthira

    Chained to fate at the gambling table

    Though I, in contrast,

    Delight in this turn of the cards

  • Sonic Moksha

    The vibration of sympathetic strings

    Disturbing oxygen atoms in the humid night

    Below, the cacophony of humanity

    Beats a tattoo for the soaring melodies

    The raga of the metropolis

    Articulated with train horns

    Lovers spats

    And racing ambulances

    On the gilded musical wings I soar

    Far above the airport approach pattern

    And the glittering streetlights below

    Straight to sonic moksha 

  • Autumn’s Shrub

    Frost nips a green shrub

    Wind tousling its stalks

    Gone are summer’s warm rays

    The dark of winter forebodes

    Yet on this morning

    In the face of rain, wind, and the march of seasons

    It stands resolute

    Upright in its frosty countenance 

    And should a stray ray fall upon its white tipped leaves

    It will be soaked in 

    But taken with stern reticence

    With dignity and pride

    As if to say “ I am no beggar

    This calamity of cold I will endure

    I accept your gift

    But I expect no more”

  • In Distant Verdant Hills

    In distant verdant hills

    Where morning breaks 

    After night laid

    Uncomfortable in her moonlight bed

    Tossed and turned on humid eddies

    Dreamless through celestial progressions

    I see her laying, sleepless 

    Body kissed by lunar rays

    White linen loose about her

    Her eyes stare, tired, at the ceiling fan

    Equating its futile spins

    With her long and lonely past 

    In such tropical esteem

    On those sleepless nights

    I wonder if her thoughts drift to me

    And through the stratosphere and Van Allen belts

    Find my dreams to join

    Hemispheres and oceans away 

  • Loons, Boughs

    A breath

    Ripples on the rim of an amber bowl

    Water still, reflecting swaying azaleas

    On the cusp of the breeze a loon calls

    Lonely for its mate

    Mournful in its low lamentations

    The curtains rustle 

    Coffee grows cold

    Open windows at a crisp, cool dawn

    The suns reticent rays

    Banishing the stealing rearguard of night

    Orange against the green of the pines

  • Hot Purity

    Small paper squares

    Colorful and patterned

    Flicker and turn to ash

    Dissolved into the flame’s purity

    Fresh pine boards

    Char in the intense heat 

    Mixing their sweet carbonized smell 

    With the cool fall breeze

    The sizzle of butter on a fire licked pan

    A riot of bubbles and rendered fat 

    The moment but a tendril of flame

    Radiant, vivid, brief 

  • And More Shit

    The internet isn’t working properly


    There’s something stuck in my teeth


    It won’t come out


    Something is squeaking


    Some fucking dog is barking


    It’s Wednesday


    The need for the Dollar keeps me inside

    On a beautiful, sunny Fall day

    When nature’s call is a resounding

    “Fuck this shit”

  • Swaying Pines

    Sing to me sweet glacial winds

    Echoing down from your lofty abode

    In your sweet movements

    Pick the sylvian melodies

    And thump with gentle waves’ beats

    Wash me away in your tune

    Beyond my humble valley

    Sing down the arid steppe

    To where cacti cling to dunes

    Rattle their percussive spines

    Vestigial since the megafauna needn’t scratch

    Dry air thirsting for symphonies

    And beyond to the ocean

    Harmonize with the singing cetaceans

    Let them eco your song in their icewater auditorium

    Let chasms quake and mangroves absorb

    Every note of your sweet mountain tune

    Resolved in every crack of creation

  • Cruel

    Hanging from a thin thread

    Tides of fate

    Whims of a mecural universe

    Set our life adrift

    From largest to the streets

    The valiant fall

    In their tumult

    Down tumbling through the throngs

    Of the fellows of their species

    Forgotten -worse- cursed

    Left to fate

    Knowing just what might be in store

  • Nova Veluti Aurora

    Singing down fresh snow

    Blustering in gasps 

    The sweet rustling of pine needles

    Calls me forth

    From the teeming banks 

    Of tepid river’s flow

    To sluggish lapping

    Glacial lakes’ waves

    In cold dawn’s spectral glow

    The valley opens before me

    Revealing edonic beauty

    Rarely seen this side of moksha 

  • Rhythm’s Ravine

    The unrelenting rhythm

    Bades me on

    Deep into the ravine

    Beyond the longest rays of autumn sun

    Into the vast, undulating forest

    Beyond the concrete of my feet

    Soft, downy loam cushions my stride

    Birds in chorus

    Chatter and bullshit in their tongue

    Foreign to my uneducated ears

    Neon fades to shadows

    Dancing in glacial cooled breeze

    And still the drum beats

    Hand on taught hide

    Pushing me deeper

  • To All the Lovely Dictators

    In palaces

    Laps of luxury

    The fester 

    Putrefying while still alive

    They, the flotsam of humanities waves

    Cast aside by our communal will


    Remain they do

    Spreading their stench in every act

    Destroying freedom 

    Crushing resistance

    Thinking they are supreme

    Assuming victory, forcing the world to bow


    They are merely marking the minutes

    In ever more horrendous acts

    Until their own downfall

    For no matter the man

    Our own humanity will rear its head

    And demand its due

    One way or another

  • Drops of Saline Stars

    Her eyes

    Still, deep pools of brown

    Awash in warm tears

    Drops of saline stars

    Hidden within the calm reflection

    A tempest brews

    Of a thousand laughs

    Balanced on a scale of hurt

    When beheld by such countenance

    To see myself in such calm lagoons

    Is to be lost to myself

    Awash in her love

  • Triangulated Beauty

    The glint on the water heater

    Shining in the afternoon sun

    Reflected at the perfect angle

    Triangulated by the autumnal afternoon sun

    Strange such coincidence happened

    Nothing planned

    No architect nor engineer took the rays into account

    Yet such a sublime alignment exists

    Nothing was tried

    Nothing attempted

    Some accident was created

    And beauty abounded

  • Logic Gates

    The folders on my computer

    And the files contained within

    Stand as a digital testament

    To all my failures

    Projects left half done

    Some barely off the ground

    Others within sight of completion

    Left to wallow in binary purgatory

    There they all sit

    The illogical bound by logic gates

    The same story

    Told different ways

  • Ashen Applause

    I wonder if

    Behind the smiles 

    Pleasantries and whatnot

    It’s all just an act

    Their love is just words

    Ash swirling on the wind

    A strong color

    Faded in the harsh sunlight

    Ease will not be coming

    Only an embrace of reality

    A real hard pill to swallow

    But a panacea when ingested

    One’s own applause the only to be heard

    One’s one care the only to be had

    The rest is just background static

    Playing on an unwatched tv

    In a waiting room somewhere boring

  • Gainsbourg et Al.

    I’m told 1969 was the most erotic year

    That’s what Gainsbourg claimed at least

    Today, in consumerism’s dizzying era

    I sit with a headache

    Gone is the age of aquarius and its free love

    Now it’s free parking and free samples

    Nothing erotic unless it sells

    The hot girls gyrate to hawk shit

    Such a shame the hippies lost

    Or gave up I should say

    Surrendered their ideas

    To push their stocks up a fraction of a point

    Maybe I missed that erotic year

    Maybe I just missed some fake bullshit

    Or just different fake bullshit

    A different ocean of bullshit from the one I wallow in every day.

  • Instant

    In the moment between heartbeats

    In the silent orbits of moons

    Existence stands on tiptoe

    Breath anxiously paused

    Hairs on my head choose a direction to grow

    Oblivious of solar winds

    Ambient radiation that bombards

    Growing in steadfast silence

    Atoms divide and combine

    Evolution works its slow wonder

    Volcanos wait

    It is all but an instant

  • Open Road Yearning

    A year of abbreviated distance

    The wide world reduced

    To walking distance

    In a hipster neighborhood

    The streets have been walked

    And rewalked for good measure

    The only variable is the other walkers

    And the mercurial storms of the Rio de la Plata

    A year only on foot

    Nature only that this is prim and clipped

    For urban beautification

    Ecosystems represented

    In lone tree embassies

    A thirst for the open road

    With no open avenues to whet

    As one cycle ends

    The blossoms again open 

    The open road calls

    The passes have been cleared

    One year spent yearning

    Perhaps the next will be in motion

    The path ahead is unknown

    But its possibilities are as open

    As the endless vault of the Austral skies

  • Faux Nostalgia

    I am nostalgic for a time I never had

    Sitting in my friends house that I visited once

    Though feeling like it was my own

    Happy to start winter break

    At a college I didn’t attend

    Watching the snow fall outside in a place where it doesn’t snow

    I am warm in my hoodie

    On a brown leather couch

    Cold when I sat down

    Warming up now though

    I’m wearing socks without shoes, 

    though I don’t like that

    I’m euphoric about my finals

    Ones I didn’t really take

    A 4.0 I never received

    I’m maybe 21 or 22

    Senior year I’d guess

    Same year I visited that house for real

    Though in the summer sunshine

    A profound happiness spread from socked toes to mohawk tip

    The nostalgia is strange

    Without reason or real purpose

    I have real memories to yearn for

    Yet I feel pain for these moment that never were

    That, perhaps, is what I find most painful

    The life that never was

    The happiness that never found me

    The comfy socks and plush couch

    That my ass never found 

    On a cold, snowy day. 

  • Volcanic Starscape

    In a verdant and saffron atmosphere

    I found myself awash

    In inky sludge

    And black volcanic sand

    Lost in oranges and turquoise

    Expanded and made hideous

    Beautiful for my humanity

    Islands rising from the sea bottom

    Into glorious sunshine

    My feet upon their virgin shores

    Bathed in soft cloth

    Warm and cleansing upon my skin

    The stars shown in silent glory

    Awash in the milk of the sky

    And the imaginations below 

  • Casting off

    Casting off

    Into futures unwritten

    Trepidation in the heart

    Soul buoyed

    The nights will be long

    The odds rough

    But the road calls

    The future is inexorable

    Its bend, though, negotiable

    And we the tillerman of its course

  • Strand

    The tide rolls in

    Upon the strand of my soul

    I feel its warm motion

    Its sweet foam

    The quest to be perfect

    To make the most of every moment

    Lights fires upon the beach

    Turning sand to glass

    In the steaming cool

    Waves wash away the fear

    The beach grows dark and quiet

    Under the warm milk of the cosmos 

  • Dues

    It washed upon me 

    A giant toxic wave

    Dark, churning, tempest born mass

    Thick liquid, dragging me down 

    Deep beneath its thundering billows

    Gears grind

    Scratching screeching metal

    Alive yet in a dream

    Struggling to float

    Struggling to think

    In movement nor rest is respite found

    Only time, incessant and overbearing

    Shall free the awashed from the depths

    Precious seconds, then, tick forward

    Dare not be abated 

  • Glorious Sunshine on a Guilded Balcony

    A gentle breeze

    The rustling of verdant leaves


    The parting of clouds

    Departures of grey sky cloaks


    Deprived from we below all day

    Its absence acute


    Warming humans and awaking minds

    Glorious radiation, greeted with smiles


    Cloudy blues blown away

    Again the city awakens


  • Dreams of Past Pain

    Dreams of past pain

    Bullets and guns silent

    In fields and jungles

    Screaming, deafening in dreams

    The scars heal, 

    Save the deepest ones

    Invisible without

    Ripped deep within

    The soul’s torment

    Is the price of survival

    Better than the alternative

    If only just

    A silent battle waged

    A horrific dreamscape

    A nocturnal fight

    A constant reminder

  • Years Later

    Everyone wants to be cool until you’re in too deep

    Lying about experiences is easier

    No scars, no cravings, no nightmares

    Just the glory, just the pussy

    Free drinks aside, consider the broken man

    Alone with his tears

    Awash in horror years after the fact

    Stories too real to be cool

    He thought it’d get him attention

    Coolest guy in the room

    But there is no room to be in

    When your mind will never leave ‘then’

  • When You’re Able

    And they find you when you’re able

    Or so they will say

    Able now, supposedly

    It’s all on your ass

    Stand to and deliver

    Accept your fate, it cannot be changed

    Into the meat grinder you go

    Their bravado legendary

    Your sacrifice forgotten

    It is the fate of man to suffer

    In ditches and on killing fields

    History always forgetting before the next time

  • Tubed Caviar

    I wonder if the bauxite miner

    And the sturgeon know

    That their respective contributions to the economy

    In salty eggs and the base ingredients of aluminium

    Will be combined in tube form

    And spread on toast in Norway

    Does the existence of such tubes have meaning

    Does their design

    Which I like for some reason

    Speak to a great truth

    About me

    About the caviar Norwegians like

    If it does

    It it speaks to some profound truth

    Tubes being meaningful that is

    Should I be worried

    Would it worry the bauxite miner to know

    I’m sure the sturgeon is nonplussed either way

  • to be born was some bullshit

    The burnt out house next door, 

    Is the only neighbor he’s know

    The gang colors on his jacket

    The only fashion he wants

    Life is a five mile radius

    The Persian Gulf and Siberia might as well be mars

    Life is here, life is now

    A career is a perverse hope

    To be born was some bullshit

    And it’s gonna be more shit while you’re here

    But another day above ground is something

    Especially if it’s the only thing you’ve known.

  • B and B

    They prance about in flighted merriment

    All but ashen gusts

    Carried ever lofier on digital thermals

    We are supposed to gaze



    Until we blink our dry eyes

    In refreshed liquid vision


    The absurd manifest

    In fake laughter

    In a potemkin world

  • Falling Pages

    Rustling of leaves

    A symphony of friction

    Bending and gently colliding

    In warm, lazy winds 

    Calendar pages fall

    Denoting new 

    Lamenting old

    Floating down through a crowd of dust motes

    Resting on a wooden floor

    Light dancing upon them

    Directed by swaying branches

  • A Lone Piper

    And a lone piper,

    In uniform and kilted regalia stood

    Upon a cement parade ground

    In driving rain

    The drones wailed a lament

    As the melody soared in sonorous derge

    Good, nostalgic tidings

    Drowned in celestial tears

    Eras end amongst promises of better days

    Lies abound in hearts drunk with power

    Today, years later, tears fall in deluges 

    Torrential as on that dignified piper

  • Eclipse

    In the glorious afternoon,

    When azure blankets the city

    Soft muslin of ozone and air

    Hung impossibly high far above

    The moon passes in irregular form

    Between our home and our power

    Crescented, then, becomes

    That steadiest of lights

    We below watch

    With all our technology, mystified

    Stunned at the simple ballet

    Our antecedents worshiped

    Rare, beautiful, resplinant

    How lucky are we, creatures of this world,

    To live on a planet whose moon and star

    Fit so well together

  • Lost on Me

    My fingers run along the fake wood

    Too smooth and cool in the early night

    The phone sits notificationless

    Seemingly without purpose

    The beat thumps

    The crescendo rises

    Saxophones rift on chords

    A voice, melancholy, intones melodies

    My feelings gassify

    Same for the bubbles in the sparkling water bottle

    I feel the singer is saying something important

    But it’s lost on me

    The evening fades and stars alight

    But it’s lost on me 

  • Chime

    And bells chimes above the warren of streets

    Clear and sonorous above cacophony

    The pure tone ringing true

    Through all us within

    From the depths of our filth

    On a planet once so magnificent

    Turquoise, verdant, lush

    Sunk in the landfill we’ve hewn from its crust

    The clarion call sounds

    The hearts of man resound in its beauty

    Raising us up from our mistakes

    Uniting us in beauty.

  • Atacama

    The cerulean oasis 

    Mirroring the sky

    Saline in composition

    Solitary in character

    The Vicuna herd

    Lost amongst the sands

    Tantalized by the waters

    Disappointed in thirst

    The desert takes its toll

    Amongst the thin air

    And rolling dunes

    Skulls bleach in the sun.

  • Night, 10:37 pm

    In the heart of history

    Beating thunderously in the cavern of my soul

    The grains of hope slipping through my fingers 

    Grasping madly I cry out

    From my placid abode my call echos

    To the cold the hungry the oppressed the imprisoned

    Together we watch the last rays of the sun 

    Set beyond the horizon of our futures

    Without hope the night continues long

    The sunrise seems ever so distant

    The stars so cold in the frozen river of their firmament

    We below, alone

    It was a good run they will say

    Those for whom history is read in the papers

    With disinterested hurruphs

    And wonders of stock changes

    For we who turn our faces to the wind

    Feeling its chapping gusts on ruddy cheeks

    We are not allowed such distances

    Languid cetaceans we are not

    Dawn will come, and with it the future

    The trees roots are too deep to truly parish

    But grim tidings come with the night

    And we who must live in the dark. 

  • The Cusp of History

    Strange to think sometimes

    When the clock strikes and calendars days fall

    That the turning of the world

    And the dance of the stars

    Has alighted us upon the shores of history

    In some sense, every day is history

    For some the best day of their lives

    Others pure tragedy

    Some nations will mark it will joy

    Others immeasurable sorrow

    Strange to know

    Well in advance

    That the next day will bring something

    Something spoken about, triumph or failure

    Which, though, completely unknown 

  • Folding

    Folding in glorious trumpet strains

    Grass grows unconcerned

    Neon lights glow, illuminating police brutality

    Our loyalty is demanded

    The cacti are worried about drowning

    Harmonies play to empty opera houses

    A viking helmet wonders why it’s doing in this century

    Evaporation continues, screaming fuck you to condensation

    A reactor comes online and pulses blue

    Balloons make teenagers sound weird

    A field is burned

    Vexing an uptight person across the straits

    In sighs humanity’s metronome finds is rhythm

  • The Beat/Uncertanity

    The beat drops

    And uncertainty looms

    Futures predicted

    Ridiculous in their polyester getups

    Sleuths will pursue the annals of this time

    Lost for meaning and reason

    A species wandering aimless

    With nuclear weapons and edible panties

    The bass resonates

    And we still fuck up

    We’ve perfected napalm

    Rocket launched and on sale!

    If we survive, the starships will coast

    Planet to moon to asteroid

    Trying to forget, like awkward teen years,

    We their dumbass forbearers 

  • Silver Tides

    Upon the slipping shores of my dreams

    You float in whips of technicolor fabric

    Ensconced in patterns of paisley and hieroglif

    Smoke wafts in your wake

    An incense burner sits lonely

    Under a mandala of unestimitable color

    The fabric flows you forward

    Suspended in a harmony of chants

    I follow, reaching forward

    You forever out of my grasp

    Slip from any reach

    And roll away in undulating beauty 

  • Dulcis est cunnus Letona

    The wave broken, 

    Over the copper bow of lunar light

    The sweet, warm waters gathering me

    In its saccharine bosom

    Floating me down the gentle crest

    Of retreating thought

    The stars, hidden by flashes of lightning

    Call to me in soaring melodies

    Harmonized with the beat of my heart

    Blasted through amplifiers

    Glorious strains of soul fuck rock

    In myriad spectral frequencies 

    The wave churns and I with it

    The sweetness of peach lays upon my tongue

    Music grows discordant

    Chords and spectra break apart

    Leaving only chunks upon the floor 

    Until at long last they resolve into glorious harmony 

  • Lost Thought

    A fragment of a thought

    A memory

    A glimpse

    Floats on the flotsam of my mind

    Blurry around the edges

    amorphous in shape

    Obnoxiously undefined

    Tickling the ‘What am I missing’ hairs

    The daily, mild torment

    Soothed by the forgetfulness of time

  • Holiday Afternoon

    Streets roll into puffy clouds

    Glowing in the sunlight

    beers, cold in the hand

    Fresh air, filtered through masks

    The feeling of shoes on feet

    And soles on pavement

    Free from the four walls

    So monochromatic and restricting

    The heart sings

    In glorious hair metal wails

    The pulse, a swelling guitar

    From a ‘70’s hard rock solo

    The afternoon will roll on forever

    Our sauntering, aimless in such luxury

    Without reason, only to be

    Free as freedom is free 

  • 桃園

    Memories rest

    In the sweet peach garden of the soul

    Unmolested nor ravaged

    By the currents of life

    Flowing in turbid eddies

    The fortunes of selves

    Oaths taken and forgotten

    Leaves crushed beneath feet

    The sweet boughs of towering pine

    Tender at spring’s dawn

    Refresh eager senses

    Lost in life’s unrequited desires

  • Tonight, Tomorrow

    The moon, full, hangs

    Languid with Crux

    Silent above the dark city

    I am filled with a restlessness

    My soul churning

    My blood alive

    The pressure of tomorrow

    With its demands and requirements

    Bare down with each passing moment

    I, though, rage with life

    Unable to rest my mind

    Unwilling to quiet my thoughts

    Under the lunar light

    My soul is alive

    Tomorrow be damned. 

  • Contrast

    Such a strange contrast

    Spring and winter

    Quarantine and openness

    Stores change policies

    Relationships grow distant

    Yet society soldiers on

    The heart is weary

    Though the soul is defiant

    Endure, endure beats the heart 

    Though the billowing clouds of uncertainty

    Thunder at day break on a near horizon

    Today is a gentle movement of a leaf in the spring breeze

    Ignorance of the storm

    Just like before

    Continuity in contrast 

  • And, but

    Something feels weird in my wrist and

    There was a flyer that was creepy and

    It talked about dictatorships and

    I don’t think the creator studied history

    The wrist thing is fucking with me and

    I’m weirdly tired at 10:21 and

    I took a fucking nap and

    It didn’t do the trick

    I have too much bullshit to deal with and

    I don’t want to do it and

    It’s all I really have to do and

    It’s all that gives my day meaning

    That fact pisses me off and

    I’m going to do exactly nothing about it and

    That’s sucks but

    What is there to be done?

  • Vernal Equinox

    The sill of the afternoon floats on

    Under the still, azure sky

    Gentle breath keep tempo

    Of stretch commenced naps

    The tentative leaves sway

    The breeze gentle

    The last exhale

    Of winter’s chill

    A light wisp of cloud

    Passes over the mellow metropolis

    A tuesday we all decided

    Was just not worth the effort

    The Austral Spring sprung

    And no one seems to care

    Apathy gallops around

    Bikers weaving on the roads

    Just to sit outside

    In the shortening rays

    Coffee steam rising

    Warming all around

    I sit watching the sun

    Trace patterns on neighboring buildings

    The refrigerator hums

    Both absentmindedly  

    The equinox is upon us

    Sighed out with indifference

    A winter of solitude past

    A spring of uncertainty commenced 

  • Citrullus Lanatus

    The mop moves

    Soapy water

    Across the wooden floor

    Warm against the late winter chill

    Her memory

    Our bodies entwined

    Sweet nectar of love

    Mixed with sweat

    The bucket sloshes

    Dirty suds spill

    Squeegeed up

    Floral scented

    Our breath, shared

    Our voices rising

    A reflexive, mutual addiction

    Waves breaking upon shores

    Quotidian afternoon

    Her, alive in memory

    Boring mundanity without 

    Passion searing within

    Wash me away

    Down the drain into you

    Scrub away every trace

    Dissolve me in your love

  • It, Cactus

    My balcony cactus sits

    Alone on a wooden table

    Far from its natural biome

    The sand washed dunes

    Of distant deserts

    Instead four stories up

    And slightly inland

    Upon the humid, temperate shores

    Of the muddy Rio de la Plata 

    I wonder if it feels lonely

    Out of place

    Cupped in gaudy orange plastic

    Stared down upon 

    By austral birch trees

    If when the cool wind nips

    Or the skys unleash torrents 

    It doesn’t long

    For dusty, dry winds

  • Barber Shop

    Highlighted in neon

    Decorated in the bumping pseudo hop

    Now slow R sans B

    To hip for its own good

    Here, where the beautiful are quaffed

    Coffee machine

    Buttons for bougie drinks

    Whites flat

    Espressos not expressos

    Embrace the faux class

    You share this edifice

    Roomates of sorts

    Same structure

    Same industrial chic

    Different vibe

    I’m not sure the soundtracks

    Of fancy women’s boutiques

    Where models shop 

    With oohs and aahs

    This place has the same tunes

    A fake plant

    Caged in a fancy glass lamp

    A spot of green amongst the hip white

    Plastic, though

    Fake all around 

  • In Unfathomable Beauty

    The notes

    The harmonies

    Roll off her back

    Down the sheets

    Across the comforter 

    Into a beam of warm sunlight

    She lays supine

    Golden in the mass of cloth

    A still life

    Only undulating

    With her steady breath

    The glory of creation

    Made manifest

    In the quotidian joy

    Of waking, only to find

    My soul awash

    In unfathomable beauty

  • A Pomelo Sits

    A pomelo sits, 

    Cold, forgotten

    Alone in the recesses

    Of a dark fridge

    Bought on a whim

    Forgotten with an exotic cheese

    Left to slowly over ripen 

    Never considered otherwise

    Its sour juices

    Shall pique no taste buds

    Nor will its pulp

    Gather on a glass rim

    Light flashes and doors open

    Darkened after closure



    It’s only consultation

    The lousy company

    And shared fate

    Of a drole cheese wedge.

  • Absentminded Cacti

    A cactus drank absentmindedly

    Water pooled on the wooden table

    Slowly surrendering to evaporation

    The late afternoon sun

    Cast long shadows 

    Shadow puppets of trees

    Buildings a canvas

    Dancing in the gentle breeze

    Clouds, once voluminous and threatening

    Emptied, pass out over the river

    To repeat the process elsewhere

    The cactus, full, sighed

  • Century Club

    Milestones come

    Highway signs

    A blur passing by

    Some large, others small

    All passed

    Remarked in passing

    Those that don’t escape our view

    That seem to lag

    Almost dancing in our gaze

    Mark our memories 

    Indelibly and temporarily

    Markers on the mental map

    Round numbers are remembered

    For convenience’s sake if nothing else

    Enjoyed, however, the same

    Hearts joyed, souls enriched

    In the vast dark ocean of life

    A lighthouse beacon 

  • Calle, Noche

    The cobble stones speak

    Of a past age

    When trams rumbled past

    Grinding iron rails

    Carrying people

    Rich and poor

    Bringing life to a city

    Teeming with promise

    A century of moons

    Cast their mournful light

    Upon abandoned iron

    And worn stone

    All that remains

    Of teeming promise 

    The future that once was

    Ages slowly on the ground

  • In Zeros and Ones

    It sometimes strikes me as strange

    Than in my hard drive

    In zeros and ones

    In digital form 

    I have the likeness and movements

    Of people and places 

    Than no longer exist

    Strange that in that form

    Of mere zeros and ones

    They are reproduced

    Though not for real

    For my eyes to see

    My tears to fall

    And my heart to ache

    Real to my eyes 

    As they once were

    But merely a facsimile

    Of what once was

    Of who once was

    Now but mere memories


    In zeros and ones

  • We, Invincible

    There was an era

    When everything seemed so rich

    So beautiful, so possible

    A wonderful ignorance

    To us, the invincible

    All adversity was to be met

    And opposition that was daring

    Was to be bent to our will

    And the world

    Though riling in imperfection

    Was to be made right

    Through our inerable hand

    For we could do all

    See all

    Be all

    Ours was the world 

    And everything in it

    Just waiting for our mark

    To change in indelibly

  • Flashback

    If life were to flash

    I wish it were to be but a pause

    Forget the long shot

    Or things in retrospect

    Let it just be me

    Laying languid in your arms

    Peaceful repose

    Immersed in your beauty

    Let that flashback be

    But you

    The comfort of your love

    The radiance of your beauty

    Magnified, transfigured

    Resplendent in glory 

  • The Belt Above

    Upon windblown shores

    Floating on the tears

    Of orphaned whales

    I find my bed


    Sea foam below

    Spinning cosmos above

    Dark, yet comforting

    The feeling of gentle repose

    Even given the inhospitality

    Under the guarding belt

    Of galactic arms

    Dust suspended in thousands of points of light

    Distant to the waves

    Beyond, truely

    And I below

    Gently spin in edies

    Borne ever forth

    Upon apathetic and amoral tides

  • Instead Soaked In

    My feet stood

    Paired upon the floor

    Cool to touch

    Damp in fall

    My eyes watched

    The afternoon pass

    Unrequited and unremarkable

    Time floating by

    Trees in wind

    Sway and shake

    Leaves fall down

    Covering parked cars

    My breath fogs

    Circles on windows

    My mind fogged

    Numbed, placid, free

    The world outside

    The world within

    Fill my cup

    To the brim

    Overflowing glorious beauty

    Songs, rhythm, rhyme

    Colors, tone, shape

    Oh glorious universe

    Not forgotten today

    Quotedianest of dates

    Not left alone

    Marinated in mundanity

    Instead soaked in

    Down to marrow

    Your beauty imparted

    My soul enriched

  • Dust, Crumbs

    Dust gathers on the floor

    Damp from the winter’s chill

    Crumbs too

    Remnants from crusty bread

    I sit watching the arc

    Long, reaching around the world

    Move slowly across the floor

    Rotational momentum observed

    The temporary glint

    Prismatic off the bottle

    Shows the liquid level

    Below half

    Soon to be empty

    Save a desert’s annual rainfall

    Left as backwash and dregs

    To evaporate in the recycling

    The puffy clouds of the afternoon

    Continue their lazy stroll

    Passing spots of grey

    Giving variety to the city

    I below debate a nap

    Sighing at a book oversold in review

    An album playing

    Offers no rhythm for page turning

    Outside a forbidden world

    Masked and contained

    Passing with the season

    Unremarked and shallow breathed 

  • Fellow Traveler

    Reality seems to slip,

    The mask moves

    Just ever so slightly

    The bottle cap in my fingers

    Hyper- and -not real

    In the moments

    Plastic reflects light blue

    Giving my uncomprehending eyes

    A color to behold

    More form to the un, hyper reality

    Strange how a moment can hold fast

    Against the immense gravity of the universe

    Against the march of time

    And for a second be held

    In a single breath

    And in that held respiration

    As alveoli absorb oxygen

    The cap rotates off the bottle

    With the force of my hand

    Opening the bottle to the atmosphere

    I look at it, examining it

    A fellow traveler, made of the same elements

    Stardust beholding stardust

    I feel it in my hand

    Or perhaps it and my hand are one