Slipped under doors

Who the fuck is you?
I’ve got enough paranoia
In these hands to make
Horrible mistakes

These days go on and on,
hours falling like clothes
from desperate widowed

ornate glass
sculptures yawn
swirling lifeblood
sent tumbling
towards the ankles

so much time
spent sprawled
across the carpet,
trying to sinkthrough
floorboards. if you

close your eyes
long enough the walls
and lights go quiet,
absent, expected

if you exhale
long enough,
i’d bet you’d

A Matter of Reinforcement

The dog’ll learn
a new face and
fresh hands
and new commands
and won’t ever ask
where I’ve gone to

The neighbors will
smile the same and
speculate, and wave

and the world will
hustle through space,
brushing shoulders
and rushing apologies

no one will stop
walking, today,
coffee beckons

a desk groans
under the weight
of a flighty superior,

The dog will
learn, as long
as she’s fed

fumbling wasps
tearing at the intestines
of rotted mango,

sickly sweet and careful
steps, attempts to avoid
the endless gaze of the sun

don’t fall in

giant wooden spoons,
bring forth the melting
of dawn into dusk,

A fleshy mosaic,the things i’ve been a universein every folly, sitting casually,a profound truth stumbled upon(sleep.stubbed)those seconds beforethe pain arrives, the calm of train carriagesor summer nightabuzz with current,chirping yellow from eager hands
the reflection of her smileon my naked teeth
a compass mumbles,"boy, finally"

A fleshy mosaic,
the things i’ve been

a universe
in every folly,
sitting casually,
a profound truth stumbled upon

those seconds before
the pain arrives,

the calm of train carriages
or summer night
abuzz with current,
chirping yellow from
eager hands

the reflection of her smile
on my naked teeth


a compass mumbles,
"boy, finally"


The Body Dawn: A Bare Season

The wind was sprinting,
or at least walking hurriedly past 
us, the accidental brush of hands
a rush of air and held breath
carrying a diluted
mixture of sea salt and carbon
molecules accumulated
over years of exhalations, the science 
behind how wisting smells,
almost freedom on the shore

it was spring-nearly summer
and the people wore
fashioned tropical, imagine the burn
of your chest tasting grapefruit
and lemon shirts, young shorts
peaking early, a dawn of skin
just above the knee 
taunting shoelaces and open
toes, a dangerous hint of 
what’s to come

a bare season


Collab with whoartgos & syntaxandsemantics

the river has thawed
and my fingers bob
like bait in the current

it’s mid-day,
barely, and I
couldn’t be happier
about that

I remember the splintered
feel of the docks
i know the calm
of depth, the deafaning
groan of silence

i know more than i did

Can’t let the words
sprint from my tongue,
stained red carpet
unfit for a queen

I remember the timbre of
your laugh, insistent…

either buried or turned
to smoke

Teeth and Faith

i imagine you as charcoal
orange begging to bust through
the shell

capable of bringing
down a whole house
if deployed correctly,

your skin…i see you
smile with closed eyes
and wonder why we
don’t spend more time
looking in the mirror

together, we’re all

helps quiet the passing
cars and muttering
lips leaking exhaust,
curious there aren’t more
muzzles in this city,
my home

where the broken streets mean
something to me, they’re ingrained in
my skin

where history saunters past
every day

remember when you were weak,
you had hope

now i have faith

Like a Memory

i want to crawl between
your ribs and cling

i want to seep
between your (aging)
panes of glass as
you scratch above
my skin

sometimes you sound so

You’re beautiful
a sombre portrait

I see residue,
your steps illuminated

Never return
to those places you

Believe in the altruistic naivety
of simple men,
a simple man

hate is tempting
like red and sickly

i feel like kindling
tightly wound

all of my favorite words
escape me, pursuit is
a lonely occupation

company is not sport,
nor as fulfilling as a warm
meal spread evenly across the tongue

i’m not sure where these steps
are headed

Go West

You’re playing the piano
and we’re singing the songs
from that musical you like

I’m squinting to read the words
and watching your fingers crawl
over the keys

Somehow you keep surprising me

I left with suitcases,
too-full, and memories.
You changing outfits, adjusting
makeup. I waiting patiently
with the dog

…I tell everyone that
happiness lives where
you do

Dry Rub

I told someone to
get off my nuts

It felt good.
My brain grabbed
at it’s crotch
(through the jeans),
and wanted to light
a cigarette

Too bad I quit that
disgusting habit.
I spent Sunday after
work marinating
in my own sheets and
listening to the rain


back again
to deposit some more…

impending doom feels
like single digit
wait…that, backwards

the depth of winter
is revealed in mountainous
gatherings of laundry

and contempt

days yawn
and stretch
to ensure that  the sun
does indeed touch the edges of our screens
(generous i know) yet, still
they are confined to stunted frames

they die
so we gather
enveloped in black