100%

Oh, bended will: please bring me to the soft aging skin you have already gotten to know over these years, both lean and fat — the years, not the bodies. I know you know what I’m talking about, so don’t make me go on and on for any longer than I must; anyway, I so appreciate how authentic you are and how vulnerable you get and how honest you keep me, no matter the time, no matter the message, no matter the subject, no matter the audience. You truly are the real deal, my friend. I need you to know how glad I am that you escaped the fog for the sunshine to be with me and mine — what was that, like, three years ago?

911

ever since my chest started feeling suffocated with sharp and stabbing pains I’ve been noticing that my face has been twitching like that of the only FBI agent I’ve ever found to be remotely likable but one of my favorite people ever says he has one of those semi-positive assholes in his life too so maybe not all cops are bastards but also let’s be honest they are the worst

A

game to find mistakes
beneath every member
of my mad arrangement
becomes nothing to hide
when you’re seeking fame

is that redundant I dunno
is that necessary I dunno

you tell me big boss man or
woman or whatever else you
have learned yourself to be
he she him her they them
I’ll love you if you love me

A Healthier and Happier World

I saw the best painting
I’ve seen in three years
in a Panera near Portland.

Surrealism is back, baby!

I’ll tell you — the world
needs less bread and
more 32-ounce coffees.

A Leak

The lawn has been skunked
like the leftover beers from
the birthday party my past
ruined before it even began.

"Why can't I just die?"

Some questions are meant
to be answered, while others
are meant to be written down
in poem form, never to be read.

A Losing Effort

That’s what I call
waking up these
days, if you know
what I mean, but
let’s be honest:

you probably don’t.

That’s not fair —
I barely know you.

Why don’t you
send me a note?

You have my contact
information; what else
do you need from me?

Don’t answer that;
we can figure it out
over Negronis, or
whatever your drink
of choice is — again,
I don’t really know you.

A New Deal

How will we know
if/when it will go
into its full effect?

A Study of Provincial Life

Some of us dream big dreams
Others are content with real life

All of us want to find peace of mind
None of us believe we are unkind

Some of us move to big cities
Others choose to flee the hustle

All of us want to find peace of mind
None of us believe we are unkind

A Wake

all the people you trust
are the people who must

be willing to do more than
just send flowers at the end

Abattoir

They punch me in the ribs
Then cut my tendons in half

I cannot breathe
I cannot leave

There is a bathtub of blood
There is a motorcade of pain

But I cannot breathe
And I cannot leave

Absolution

I would offer eternal forgiveness
if you would offer a sincere apology
and pay all your outstanding debts.

Abstruse

Oh, the humanities!

I don’t understand
what is so difficult
to understand about
culture and cultures.

Tell me: What do you
like to do in your free
time, and would you
be willing to read more?

Okay, back to hashtags!

Acme

the irony of the wild
seeking ways to get
even wilder only to be
stumped or stomped
by a more zen being
cannot be overstated
or understood it just is
what it is like you know
how verbs can also be
nouns and vice versa

ambition is aspiration
and desire can be both
a virtue and a pitfall

it doesn't ever matter what
you want because life will
just blow up in your face

anyway anyway anyway
again again again again
forever forever forever
the end the end the end

Acrostic Bullshit

Society's
Assholes
Desperately

Praise
Only
Expired
Men

Affliction

Cotton slapped
onto skin and
now they strut,
strapped like
swole patrolmen.

All men know
how to hurt
and feel hurt,
and yet there’s
this disconnect.

Pain is so real,
just like the world.

The world doesn’t
need any more.

Isn’t it obvious how
obvious we can all be?

Can’t we henceforth seek
altruism and mystery?

Agog & A Dog

I only
want to
love and
be loved
and you
only need
me to be
what you
think you
want out
of a being.

Al Dente

She said I should
have been harder
to bite; I told her
she should have
turned down the
heat way sooner.

Albion

What’s more punk
than not giving a fuck?

The thing is…
I can’t help
but care.

It’s imperative
to learn to filter;
it’s an inherent skill
to be able to land
a joke when off-kilter.

Feelings are fraught
but necessary
when the oceans are rising
yet people are becoming
colder as they get older
and see each bird
pass just slightly above
their shallow skulls.

If you are unwilling
to tap into the collective,
will you at least tap the keg?

All the Drugs

Vanilla bean is making me
feel better about feeling
worse about everything
since I thought about birth.

So the thing about now,
and the past few years,
is suicide’s been an option.

Thank goodness for my son,
because I don’t want to die,
at least not anytime soon.

I have to admit, though —
I regret being born back
in 1985 when nothing
was good on TV or IRL.

If I was maybe, like,
a decade older, I guess

I could have known
what it felt like to
have heard Pavement
or Smog or Destroyer,
or even Violent Femmes,
for the first time live;

also, maybe I would have
been more wary of love…

or at least the kind
that my now ex-wife
chose to employ like
a desparate freelancer.

I’m sorry if that’s offensive;
I know it probably is, but
you’ve never met this woman.

The worst part is: She likely
wouldn’t have cared to meet
you or anyone else I cared
about at this point in my life.

Alternate Anniversary

as the paper of months
did backflips she became
increasingly brusque and
I couldn't help but give it up

American Beauty

Here, in this expanding desert town, there is a pool of rancid orange juice, in which radical ants are free to roam (and drown). That’s kind of a fair metaphor for this nation at this time, no? Loneliness is deadlier than smoking or obesity; I read that, recently. Shit; can you believe that?

In my bored isolation — or isolated boredom; I can’t tell which is a more accurate and/or appropriate description, but maybe it’s all the same — I watch teenage girls do their dance or cheer routines (I don’t know, I don’t care) in the shared yard of this temporary rental unit. Their bodies are doused in mall scents and their pom-poms smell like ethanol — no, seriously; I can smell them and their frilly hand accessories through my kitchen window. They wave and wink at me because I look like a college kid, a TA at most. Things are going to get even weirder when I actually look like a dad, maybe in like 20 years, aren’t they?

American Cum

Everybody is getting lonelier
despite what they might say.

Boomers are bitching about
snowflakes to grey clouds.

Gen X is busy pushing the poor
out of their old neighborhoods.

Millennials are so in debt
they just want to get high.

And Gen Z would rather blog
about armpit dye than fuck.

The one thing that we all have
in common is the need to cum.

Analectic

You can split
a dollar into
four quarters,
or you can
just hand over
the whole thing
to someone
who needs it
more than you,
but will you?

And now, I’m a true bachelor of fine art…

I have to say that as much negativity that my son’s other progenitor brings into my own life, I still feel for her — she has such a heavy sense of abandonment that is so tethered to each of her limbs and she can’t help but dip on everyone that shows her that they care. Also, at least a dozen years ago, she devised a brilliant scam that ended up backfiring on her — she grew wallflowers for powerful people until she realized the rich will swallow you whole. Unfortunately, she only came to this conclusion after she had become accustomed to the most cushiony furniture and delicate meals. She also realized that college students and department stores could mimic her more easily than her art professors communicated to her. Here’s the thing about art, though: You’re rarely as special as older people say that you are, and you usually only realize it once you’re already pretty old yourself.

and per se and

when you reach 27
you might feel alone

all by yourself
at the end
of something
but you don’t
know quite what

anything happening
at any given moment
is current by definition

but only certain things
can certainly be electric
as determined by both
senses and vibes equally

An Ode to Humanity

Here’s the thing
about most people:

They know they’re
good at being bad.

Antibiotics

get off of my phone
and get out of my life
forever and ever and

you are the worst disease
I’ve ever experienced and
I have had at least half
a dozen in my lifetime and
the thing is when you get
as sick as I have gotten
you just stop counting but
you make me want to start
back up again and if only
you could feel anything

we might be able to get
back to giving in to each
other and each moment

Art & Leisure

One of my dearest friends
told me he just picked up
the first hobby of his life.

He said he had some shame
associated with this activity
due to the expenses involved.

I made the argument that more
could potentially be gained from
drinking a bottle of wine than from
trying to marry pigment and paper.

I don’t think he bought the argument
but I do think he bought another bottle
and I hope he decides to bring it over
to my new house to drink in my new yard.

Artificial Intelligence

I got so lightheaded,
I smashed an IKEA bowl
and forgot where I was —
my kitchen, not a dream.

Try to geolocate me
and send the info
to my mother, please.

I got so heavy-hearted,
I smashed my own head
and forgot who she was —
my ex-wife, not my mother.

Try to regenerate me
and send the info
to my dear boy, please.

Astrology

The sun is only getting warmer;
the moon has become doomed;
my anxiety is constantly rising.

Baby Boo

Pet names and harmless games
are not something I am averse to
if the timing and temperate are
just right; I like grey skies during
the day and bright lights at night;
let’s go get some pad see ew and
see where life takes us next, okay?

Bang, Bang, Shoot, Shoot

People say patience
is a virtue, but then
nobody wants to be
patient; we're all so
quick to be haughty
jerk-offs, coming and
going in each other's
slowly dwindling lives.

Banned in the U.S.A.

Do you ever feel fucked for being yourself? God, this country is so fucking obsessed with God; and you know what? His son just wanted to love and be loved — hmm, I think I’ve said that about myself before, but I don’t want to compare myself to Christ, because that sort of statement or sentiment could get you crucified in more states than you would think. I don’t believe anything is a sure thing, but there should be some sort of term that’s like “near bullseye” or something like that; is there a better term? Probably, but that’s good enough. “Good enough” seems to be good enough in America; that’s basically what a Canadian friend of mine, whose wife is an assistant professor at a prestigious liberal arts college, recently told me. I think he thought he hit me with some sort of profundity, which would be a fair thought because he’s a pretty profound dude, but I’ve been saying that sort of shit since I was a competitive athlete and I first heard about the red ink ban. Personally, I think we should be crossing shit out with red ink left and right. This nation’s got it all twisted — if you’re emotionally intelligent regarding the well-being of others, you’re called a snowflake; if you’re overly sensitive about absurdist non-issues, you get a pat on the back and the election results you want. The truth is out there, we can all agree on that; but none of us can agree on what the truth actually is, can we? And, like, regardless…what are standards? Do you have any? If you do, you’re probably banned in the U.S.A., just like red ink and drugs that aren’t manufactured by crooked pharmaceutical companies.

Bars Bars Bars

I wrote 21 poems
tonight and when
I realized that well
I decided I deserved
a drink or two so
here I am sipping
and slipping and
spitting and I guess
I’m supposed to ask
where you are and
what you are doing
but honestly I don’t
actually care if I’m
being completely
honest with you.

Basketball, Chess, Dad, Nature, Poetry

I haven’t been on a proper date in, like, more than three years. If I were to go on any dating apps again, these five words are probably all I’d include in my profiles. Nobody can be defined in five words or less, but sharing much more than that before you even share a bottle of wine can be a bit overwhelming, don’t you think?

Bauble Boy

oh everything
feels so novel
when you are
a curious pen
hoping wishing
and writing up
and down dead
trees until one
day you die too
and then if you
are lucky you
are described
as the executive
assistant to the
bony hand that
manipulated
you every day
for your entire
mechanical life

Beloved Crematorium

She’s brought me so many mangos while I have been feeling beyond loco and I cannot possibly thank her any more than I know how to in my own language for all her comfort and kindness and the calming touch she places upon my stiff and sore body but she speaks something else and she is something else and I don’t even know how she ended up here in my newish double bed I bought upon moving to the mountains and she keeps telling me how much she loves the mountains and I believe every word she says in her beautiful broken English she apologetically offers up but I must say that I personally believe that anybody who tries this hard should never have to say they’re sorry about anything ever again.

Best Regards

It’s aspirational to make a great impact
on your community, on society at large,
but if you die knowing that at least one
person loved you, you did okay, I’d say.

Beyond Harsh

The heart of the forbear of perhaps my hardest love suddenly stopped working. She hadn’t spoken to him in I don’t know how long; yet after leaving the hospital on that gloomy day, she broke my heart and stopped talking to me. And back to the village chief she went, I do believe. After pining for her in his mercurial thicket for years, he was able to once again weave their palms together. Perhaps it is for the best that they can climb peaks and sink in valleys together. I was always in search for a more fertile plateau, anyway.

Bitch Please

Is what the drag queen
said to me at the Sunday
morning brunch my baby
sister invited me to a few
years ago in my dreams
and in my dreams I was
no longer living my days
as a depressed actuary.

Black Ice

After a long day
of balancing
regret and redress
the last thing you
probably feel like
doing is vomiting
on your steering
wheel so why
not hang on to life?

Blind Mice Lead Nice Lives

If you give a man a cookie,
you'll send him on his way
to far worse decisions, and
that reminds me: Why does
anyone ever ask, "What? 
Do you want a cookie?"

Whenever I have done
something worth feeling
good about, I've never
wanted to celebrate with
sugar; nor have I expected
anyone to compliment me.

The sooner you realize
few people will ever care
about you, the better off
you'll probably be; family
will be the most important
thing to you (if you're lucky).

The thing is, though: Rarely
do any of us get lucky; you're
either born with a bank account
or you're born dead, but money
will be the least important thing
to you (if you're lucky, I guess).

Blister in the Sun

I walked for what?

Like ten thousand
steps or four miles
or god knows what?

I mean what was
the point of it or
anything else now
that I have a blister
on at least one toe
on each of my feet
and the sunburn
I’m coping with is
the worst I’ve ever
experienced I don’t
think you care and
I don’t either I guess
I’ll just accept being
a Catholic at age 40.

I still have two years
for some beauty to
choose to save me.

I’m not holding out.

Blunted Affect

A studio wrestler says you can't see him;
studio execs don't say anything at all.

I live in a town where everybody wants something,
where almost everybody wants to be something.

With each day that passes, with each person that I pass,
I just want to be able to remind myself to feel something.

Bogart the Sitch

Some people can
never settle for
just enough to get
by the predetermined
status quo and that
makes strips harder
to fit into society —
you see what I mean?

Boiled on the Boardwalk

It took me nearly two decades to realize that red wine is my nighttime caffeine. Holy shit, Rachel! You were right. It’s totally cool to give in to the preferences of your ex-lovers and their own preferred ways of living and loving, long after they chose to break your heart. But that’s not what I’m trying to focus on at this very moment. And I know that I don’t have to stop before the words have chosen to start. Life is all about choice, and I choose to buy another bottle and blast out, like, at least a dozen poems while listening to my favorite nuts and eating my favorite soup and crossing my fingers that my words will someday also land upon the eyes and/or ears of pirates somewhere.

Boldness

There are moments
when I have miscues;
but don’t you, too?

I try to keep things
as neat and ordered
as I possibly can.

I avoid awkwardness,
since so few people
enjoy discomfort.

But I believe comfort
begets complacency
and not caring is cold.

If you don’t want to improve,
I don’t see a point in living
when life wants us to lose.

If that’s a bold thing to say,
why don’t you italicize or
underline me instead, okay?

Brave Men Run In My Family

A job is just a job.

Meaning does not
come from work;
it derives from minds,
heads together, or
bodies embodied;
we can only feed
as much as we eat.

A god is just a god.

Meaning does not
come from faith;
belief is a real force
to hold and withhold;
we can stay grounded,
but we can also rise
above stilted ceilings.

A dog is just a dog.

When we lay down
and lay out what we
want in this lifetime,
we can draft dreams,
and we can can reel
in realities, so here,
hear: Meaning is me.

Bright Spot

you came
into my life
like a light

turned me on
and went out
just as quickly

Burkina Faso

Did you know
that the name
of this nation
means land of
honest people?

I wish that was
true for every
single nation.

Instead, we all
live in lands of
corruption and
deception, etc.

What does it
matter, though?

Everything is
relative and
most things
are related,
at least a bit.

Hey, you know
what is a great
song, by the way?

"Borderline" by
Madonna; I once
had a buddy who
could sing the shit
out of it at karaoke.

Burnt Toast

I set my oven to 420 and slid two slices in; I popped a gummy in my mouth and popped on the Kinks for a kick, and by the time I was high, I forgot there was heat in my house. And now, it is about staying straight (not sexually, but like practically), and it doesn’t matter, since every wall is crooked and every gal is ass naked in my dreams, in my dreams. Nightmare scenario: I lose all hope and let go of my own personal reality.

California Highway Patrol

“Eruption” is one of the worst things I’ve ever heard, and I was once dragged to a Goo Goo Dolls concert in high school. Do cops on motorcycles still listen to Van Halen? It seems like they must.

The legacy of Lynyrd Skynyrd seems like it will never die; it’s too bad those men’s lives couldn’t have been spared and the Confederacy could have just been buried forever.

What counts as classic rock these days? Is it, like, Radiohead? Growing up sucks. Call 911; I feel like dying now.

Cameo

all you have to do
is ask nicely
and usually
people will show up

Candid Damage

Everybody seems
to call other bodies
assholes, but it’s
at least somewhat
rare to call someone
an ass; I think it’s
funny, but I also try
so hard to not be
an ass or an asshole
that I become a bit
like a pathetic little
puckered butt, wholly
looking for a dick
to come pick me up
by my limp biscuit;
oh…no, he didn’t!

Cardiac Hill

I used to run suicide drills
near the university for
my dad and my uncle.

I wanted to prove my worth
to myself and have them
both witness the glory.

If I collapsed and rolled back
to the bottom of the slope,
I thought I’d get a milkshake.

“There’s mud on the mountains
and oil beneath the ground,”
the old Irishman would say.

I used to think that was a proverb,
but now I think it was just a metaphor
for working-class capitalism.

We strive to reach the top,
but those in power determine
and dictate our winding paths.

Caucasus

I drank Armenian coffee
and ate herbal flatbread
for dinner; it was a hectic
day filled with lengthy and
poor communication, angry
mobs, and at least a dozen
vials of blood to be sent off
and filed — I really wish I had
a pension, but so many folks
who do seem to be far more
miserable than I can imagine;
what the fuck is up with that?

After dinner, I drank more
coffee from Ethiopia and
Nicaragua with these two
dudes I met on the way
back up the Angeles Crest;
we discussed capitalism,
coexistence, and celebrity
chefs, as I watched them
puff on their Capri cigarettes
while we listened to epic jazz
legends on the one’s record
player; life is so unpredictable.

CB Radio

A good woman
can only do so much,
but a good woman
can also do enough.

cc: me

We are all snowflakes
(punks, bitches, assholes).

Don't hesitate, don't duplicate.

We descend and stick
(to what we think we know).

Okay, settle; show mettle.

We can only make believe
(when religion rules the world).

Change up the curve balls, please.

The last time I left the Pony League,
I ended up puking in the front yard
of some rich dick in Carthay Circle.

The next time I got a AAA type of call,
I tried to stick around past the seventh
and stretch beyond my personal limits.

I look like I could be a bat boy, but
I feel like I could get that Grand Slam
special Denny’s offers to geriatrics.

Capitalism is America’s real pastime;
the problem is most of us can’t afford
beer, dogs, peanuts, or a home base.

Chaos Begets Chaos

The Bible never explicitly says so
but you can read between the lines
although many supposed Christians
so often choose not to do so and
thus they create said chaos and
they embrace it and they export it
to wherever is most appealing for
whatever god forsaken reasons on
their bizarrely skewed maps and
claim that they are simply trying
to share the teachings of a man
who never claimed to be anybody’s
lord or savior and instead hung out
with hookers and lepers and beggars
you know the types that bitches who
love to rub shoulders in stadium-sized
temples want to eradicate ASAP.

Chez Suzy (Ready Jet Set Go)

Welcome to the lodge, how long will you staying? I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be able to come your room for being wealthy.

Oh, you don’t like fried rice? Can I offer you some frozen yogurt?

Not a fan of air conditions? Why don’t you open a window?

I spilled some mango lassi and let the rest spoil. I am never not sad about waste, considering how much I toil.

Every time I feel like I need a break, I feel like I’m just going to crack. When I tell my friends I feel like death, they usually say, “Yeah, That tracks.”

Let’s get out of here. Let’s go up on the air.

Chocolate Coconut

I’d love to share a rare
moment of romance with
someone else who’s alone
for so much of their life.

But I’d like for them to like
being lonely to a degree.

Part of me thinks you can’t
ever fully understand a person
until you miss them and all
humans for at least a week.

In my dream world in my
dream love sharing is real:

You and I get our own ice cream
and our honest favorite flavors,
but you finally try to be vegan,
and you finally feel authentic.

chrestomathy

one from the east
one from the west

the egg cracked
the bird crooned

two for a feast
two for a chest

the head hurts
the heart heals

one from the east
one from the west

the frogs croaked
the dogs creeped

two for the bleakest
two for the blessed

one from the east
one from the west

Christ's Cross, Applesauce

Some parts of this town
seem to have infinite meat
hanging in windows and
behind other pieces of glass.

Why is it so difficult for some
to understand why one might
not want to consume death?

Do you ever wonder if he actually
died for our sins, or if his pseudo-
celestial ego was just more inflated
than this stretched-thin economy?

There's so much waste today –
every lost nickel or dime feels
like lost time, and there’s no why.

The mash and the hash are both
swimming in the sink, but I did
manage to save the pomegranate
seeds; you’re welcome, my love.

chronic art house inflammation

my ankles feel as if
they’re bolted like
the neck of Frankie’s
monster and my wrists
are jealous of my hands
when they make fists
and the rest of my body
would love it if I hated
doing anything other
than existing but it’s
tough enough to be
okay with being lazy
when it’s this beautiful
on the other side of your
standard window so
come crack open a beer
over here with me and
see if you are satisfied

Classic Etymologist

when I first met her
I noted I had never
met anyone like her

nobody else I knew
understood language

not like her or like me
and we are so different
we consistently get lost
in half-assed translation

she winds herself up
like a cuckoo clock

she wraps herself up
like a knitted ball

she sips hot water
through a metal straw

if I ever leave here
perhaps we can go
somewhere warmer

maybe we can have
a sitcom marathon

maybe we can enjoy
date shakes and pet
farm animals out on
the outskirts of town

Classified and Confidential / Cryptic and Encrypted

Ain’t nobody gonna apply for shit they don’t have the info for anymore, or would they, if they were desperate enough? But enough is enough, I’d think! My therapist told me I need to slow down and breathe more; should I think less, feel less? I don’t know if I can, but meditation seems essential.

Stress is more than just a test; it can become a lifestyle. And I gotta say, I’m tired of living it. When will things finally come together in a way, so that I can take a moment to enjoy my moments? You know? Does that make sense? I think my biggest fear is that I won’t ever be able to enjoy my child’s youth. I don’t know why I share so much, but does anyone even listen to what I say or read what I write? I doubt it. And I don’t really care about any of that. Again, I just care about quality time with family, but mine lives so far away from me, other than my boy; as long as he’s happy, I’m happy. That’s the truth.

On second thought, though — I would like to find happiness in other ways; but the priority is still the boy. This intriguing exotic woman recently has begun to pursue me. She is so honest and direct and sincere and vulnerable — all admirable qualities that I seek out in any close relationship, romantic or otherwise. She genuinely appears to care about me and my well-being, which is more comforting than I can explain; quite heartwarming, to be honest, especially considering the last woman I was last with could be quite frigid. Lately, she’s been texting me unsolicited nude photos, which is no doubt welcome. But I’m a neurotic guy; I’m anxious, you know? I appreciate how generous of a gesture this is on her part, but I can’t possibly imagine she wants these escaping either of our phones; but I also, don’t want to scrub my phone of them. I’d say it’s okay to be naughty; in fact, I fully embrace it.

Clear Your Mind and Fill Your Heart

I think if we all were to treat other humans and animals with the love and respect they deserve, we’d probably be surprised with the growth and development of individuals within an ecosystem. You know? Like, people talk about neighborhoods and schools and stuff as if they’re full of potential or full of problems. But I think what really creates the separation is the lack of love and respect we give.

Clerihew (Dark Comedy)

Keith J. Varadi
Is dying for you to see
He might have nothing left
By the time that he is dead.

Cliché Stanza

Some people say love is a drug
but some drugs are far more
toxic than others and some
loves are the most toxic of all.

Clipped Notes

For at least a year
I felt like my life
was a lie and
my wife was a spy.

Oh, the relief
I’d have felt
if this was true.

And what I’d do
to hear her say
she loved me, too.

But instead, she was
more expected than
advertised: A reader
who skims the details.

Clumsy Fuck

There are more than
two ways to peel
your own skin off.

There are far more
ways to feel shame
after coming too soon.

Cocaine

makes good people bad
and bad people worse.

Coffee on Linen

So hey — I’ve been thinking about getting on more of a routine, without sacrificing more than is required as a single parent on a middle-class salary in an upper-class city.

I hear that some people go to bed and wake up at the same time every single day, which is just, like, so foreign to me; I’d still love to learn how to live like that — I’d love to be a few steps closer to living something resembling what these types deem to be normal.

You know — I’ve been thinking about how to clean my semi-stained kind of life. Yeah, I want something else; I’m not listening when you say goodbye.

Commerce Terrace / Constant Triage

How could a city bus catching fire not catch my attention? I swear I see the most hellish things as I walk my domesticated coyote past bars and restaurants and stores and other places of pseudo-suburban business.

How can some people talk to other people the way that they do, and how is it that some recipients of such anger and resentment just consume it like fast food or cheap beer? I ask myself this every time I witness such interactions, now that I am single again and free from the unwarranted contempt and inexplicable callousness I absorbed for two too many years.

How do I have so much unrequited love in my heart? My big sister recently explained to me that empaths have a tendency to push certain people away, particularly those who struggle with their own emotions; my goodness — what an astute observation, what a welcome revelation!

Companion Fare / Customer Care

The King Eddy came through,
like he always seems to do
and brought a slanted yet
enchanted standard by which
this sunk-cost life ought to be
judged, looking backward and
moving forward; first round is
on the sweaty guy in the corner!

Cookbook

I left the legumes
on the counter of
my nemesis’ kitchen.

I forgot the falafel
in my car shortly
after I picked it up.

The seltzer that you
bought me — if I’m
being honest, it kinda
tasted like kerosene.

The cold noodle dish
that we used to miss
from the place near
where we bowled?

That place is gone,
and so is the love
I had for our years
we spent together.

I never cared so much
about food until I met
such a hungry woman.

I never thought it’d hurt
so bad to be starved of
casual hugs and kisses.

Corpse of Discovery

Put some bodies
on some boats
and see where
the rapids carry
you and them.

See how far you
might get before
the fun runs out
and you have no
idea where you are,
or where your ideas
drifted off to along
the way out West.

And by the way,
do you believe you
are likely to find
anything that could
possibly help you
help anyone else
by the time you
return home, and
upon your arrival,
what are the odds
anyone will recall
that you left at all?

Cowards

you don’t need
to call me names
in order to feel
braver than either
of us actually are

Coyote Core

I watch the wild
crouch on concrete
seek shelter and
howl at my headlights
in between breaths
and all I can ask really
is are you death?

Craggy

My ex-wife was the type of partner
who would claim to be ride or die,
but as soon as the road got rocky
she hopped off our tandem bike.

Craving & Caving

All I really wanted
was a PB & J sandwich
but I had run out of jelly
and gluten-free bread.

I didn’t feel like going out
to get some at the Vons
down the street, so instead
I just thought about the few
supposedly happy couples
I might see if I did go.

Crying, Patience

The lack of regard some people have can make anyone with self-awareness want to melt away and become a part of whatever surface they are standing on and you can just wait and wait and wait and wait and so often there is no point since nothing will change and you’ll be left unfulfilled like so many before you and doctors and parents will tell you to just be patient but what’s the point of that when you know there is no cure for despair especially when the world is clearly left for disrepair?

Culturegeist

The ghosts of pomp and pop come
knocking on your front door after
a serious night of serious raging,
and all you can do is ask yourself,
“Is this real life or is this a movie?”

The studios will lie to you, the media
will lie to you, your own spouse will
lie to you, since there is no profit
to be made if you have any idea
of what is happening to you; got it?

Cupid’s Lanes

Do people go on dates
at bowling alleys? Like,
I mean, without their kids
and whatever problematic
people they might have
in their lives? I’m talking
about when they’re still
interesting and interested
in real love, not settling…

D.O.A.

I went to Lanegan’s
for a rusty nail or two
and the wildlife there
stared at me for a sec
and mouthed, “Boo.”

I was dead on arrival.

I was ready to feel bad
about my life and fall
asleep in the front seat
of my Jeep Patriot, and
that’s exactly what I did.

I was dead on arrival.

Date with Myself

After my afternoon appointment
with my still-new dermatologist,
I felt drowsier than usual at that hour,
so I decided to get a cappuccino.

As I walked the couple of miles
down the closest thing to what
I’d call an East Coast street out here,
I was struck by the blacked-out sky.

On my way back, I bought this
heavy red from Dalmatia and
I thought I would save it for you
and I to drink in my backyard.

But then I remembered I didn’t write
a poem yesterday or the day before,
so I poured myself a glass and started
drinking until I could see the words.

Davy Crockett Junior High

I saw this place in a film I won’t name but I know that you know what I am talking about and since you know well you know that I’m a feminist and no that doesn’t mean that I hate men but it does mean that I think most of us are idiots.

Dead Tooth

One of the most stunning women
I have ever met immediately
stunned me with her slight smile.

She had porcelain skin, piercing
eyes, and the most charming laugh.

But when she opened her mouth,
she revealed an incisor darker
than any of my exes’ black hearts.

Death Be Damned

I don’t want to outlive my own life, which is a dangerous prospect I think we all ought to mind; I simply want to live long enough to find the peace and love I have always dreamed of…

Deirdre, Jacob, Nicholas, Sofia

There have been a few occasions in my adult life when I’ve met another person who loves to talk even more than I do and I’m like, “Whoa! They exist!”

Devoted to Deluges

I liked girls who wore
Abercrombie & Fitch
for about one summer
and then their perfume
gave me headaches
and I realized WASPs
are the worst and few
things are as good
as people in power
losing their shit in
ways that are overt
enough for those they
once tricked to submit
to defeat and bring it
back around to victory.

Diarrhea

Usually it all comes out
Of my mouth

But this week
I couldn’t stop reading

I never do not wonder
What is wrong

I always just ask myself
Since I’m alone

Diphthong Song

The moon is alive;
it is like a friend—
a good friend—
it both fluctuates
and punctuates.

When I write more
than ten poems
in a single night,
I like to drive to
a widish alley
in which I can
shuffle and
stumble along,
melody and all.

I howl my vowels
and get mystical
with each syllable.

And if or when
I get bashful,
I remember
how resolute
I can be; you see:

It was a new year
when the dragon
was unleashed;

it was a new fear
when I left the love
I thought I’d keep.

Dissociated Planet

Once I found out that they had no emotions,
I went numb, which was just fine with me;
that meant I still had some sort of feeling
leftover from the old world; I think the time
is now to detach myself for good, for real.

DJ Culture (Context Clues)

he’s a world musician
a worldly man a basic
bitch in an acidic city

is he you or is he me?

oh me oh my why do I
feel like I need to go
where I’ve never been

am I you or am I who?

I’ll play the games I’ll
play the songs I’ll be
willing to right wrongs

are we you and me or?

Doily Baby

I rode an ATV to the Madonna Inn
just so I could see my favorite cowgirl
and it was worth the traffic ticket
I got on the 101 somewhere near
Pismo Beach I guess and I hope
she knows how fond I am of her
and her frilly clothes and girly ways.

Donnybrook

These bitches wild;
this brew make you
someone you don’t
even recollect, bet.

Sometimes when you
lose your mind, it’s
easy to find it across
the sea (like a dream).

Sometimes you learn
something about your
self, about your country,
about the foreignness of.

Oh, you thought I was
gonna give you more?
Why do peeps so often
expect such generosity?

Vernacular isn’t mine,
it isn’t yours, it’s ours;
if you speak it, you had
better mean it, heard?

Appropriation is real,
so be appropriate;
I’m just a guy with
a brain and a tongue.

Who are you? What,
exactly, do you want?
Where do you come
from? Final destination?

Never you mind; it’s not
that imperative for me
to know your life story
in order to order for you.

What will you be drinking?
Just do me a favor: Try
not to get either of us
punched; I have arthritis.

That might seem funny
to you, or maybe sad,
but it just is real life,
and I am a realist, okay?

I like to wait until bedtime
to stare at stars; I like to
wait until morning to take
all of my pain medications.

One of the things that hurts
most is having not seen
the British Isles until after
my British grandmother died.

All she wanted was for me
to go visit her hometown,
have a drink on her, and
paint an Irish landscape.

At least I did two of the three.

Donsker’s Theorem

I gave up on math many years ago,
but I still have yet to give up on love,
even though I sometimes feel like
maybe it’s given up on me, sadly.

“That’s no way to think, Keith,”
said the most loving person I know
(not named Susan, of course).

So many people all over the world
tend to overuse the word irony,
but isn’t it ironic how common it is
for you to feel even closer to someone
after they move, like, halfway across
the country (or perhaps the world)?

I miss so many people so many hours
of each day; I wonder if they miss me,
too; I wonder if they ever think of me.

Some people play with their food,
some people play chess or poker;
I love chess, and I’d like to learn how to
play cards, but I don’t ever want to
start gambling; I’ve been considering
fasting — I hear it helps clear the mind.

Is it true that you have to be born with
a green thumb, or can you get better
at gardening with some tenderness?

You tell me, shining star of the sea;
I know in my heart that you must know.
When I finally have a home to own,
I plan to plant at least one fig tree.

"Don't Cry Over Spilled Coffee"

is what the barista told me
when I came back to her
with dampened thighs
and statuesque eyes

just like Beyoncé she
upgraded me with ease
and I got further doused
by the prolific clouds

a fellow writer chided me
and chimed in that at least
my crotch and my keyboard
were safe from my negligence

Dottie’s Song

I keep tearing up
Things old and new

I’m not a loner
I’m just a rebel

I keep tearing up
Thinking about you

I’m not a loner
I’m just a rebel

Downtown Marcus Brown

I met one of the purest people
more than half a decade ago.

I press rewind on the time that
we have spent getting to know
each other and continue to be
surprised be the ways in which
it feels like I’ve known him for
far longer than I actually have.

He feels coastless, in terms of
character, but he’s not centrist,
either; I relate to this existence,
and maybe that’s why he feels
so comfortable and comforting
as a presence in my strange life.

I hope he continues to grow and
evolve and always remain present.

Down Under

the Manhattan
Bridge Overpass
I think about how
many nights we
drank at least one
bottle of red wine
until we were cross-
eyed and forehead
to forehead saying
nasty things tele-
pathically naked
in her IKEA bed.

Dream Dream Revelation

I want a woman who
will be as honest as
she feels comfortable
with being as the night
slowly becomes day.

Have I perhaps found her?

“They call me a hoot,
but they’ve never seen
an owl or a decent pair
of tits,” she told me after
half a bottle of Beaujolais.

There is no return policy here.

“They call you a kook,
but they’ve rarely been
willing to knock themselves
out like a comedian off the
clock,” she told me after
she finished the bottle off.

The mutual realization has come.

We split another and ended
up jerking each other off
until we passed out, pants
on the floor and shirts on
the bed, one cat at our feet,
the other near our heads.

I ask the initial question once again.

Drive-Thru Me

I ordered a Crunchwrap Supreme
And I hadn’t even smoked any weed
I was simply under the influence of
The trivial pursuits of capitalism

Here’s the thing if you want to know
One of my biggest pet peeves
About the United States’ system
Is that companies offer vacations
But then guilt employees for even
Thinking about taking off time
Beyond major holidays yet execs
Come and go as they please
Because power is money obvi

And bigwigs are pimps and well
They’re the customers too and
We are the prostitutes getting
Too old to even sell our bodies

Drum Piss

Smack your hand
against the skin
and see what comes
out of that implement.

The bells jingle;
the snare echoes.

The talent drips out
of the exhaustion;
the superiors scream
pipe down for a pension.

In this country, you feel
lucky for pennies, if you
are able to feel anything.

In this life, little things
can keep your head up,
like "MMMBop" blasting
at a possessive-free store.

The well liquor;
the clogged lanes.

Smack your hand
against the skin
and see what comes
out of that implement.

Drunken Noodle

sometimes
you crack
open a beer

and you

immediately
want to pour

it down
the drain

and that’s like
life or something
like life or something

nothing makes sense

Dupe Loom

Is life more of a woven
sequence of dreams, or
is it something closer to
a collection of harbingers?

We all get triggered;
some of us just deal
with the weather better
than can be predicted.

We all shoot our shots;
some of us lay bricks,
some of us lay eggs,
some of us get laid.

While many hold their
two longest fingers up
at crowds of strangers,
I'll seek more thumbs.

Dutch Oils, Belgin Linens

There are certain luxuries
arguably worth your time
wishing and hoping you
may someday be able to
waste with your wasteful
days but first your thirst
for fame must be abated.

In time the world will see
all that you dream here
in America and over there
in Europe and why not in
every other landscape
you choose to paint but
first your thirst? Abate.

Dysania

Just let me lie in peace;
just let me die, atrophied.

There is no need to be;
this is just a lie they feed.

Who is they? They is them.

Why is that? That is why.

Okay, forget it; you never even
remember what I say, anyway.

Give me my pills, give me my
my my, give me my alone time.

Edging

It’s not right
It’s not wrong

I think I heard
It sung in song

Touching me
Touching you

There’s nothing
Else left to do

Smash the glass
Stomp the diamond

Why bother regretting
What’s gone in hiding

Can you try to come
Back to the before

A good series finale
Is you wanting more

ee·muhr | gawk·er

the best poet
I’ve ever known
handwrote
the best poems
I’ve ever read

he gave them
to me when
I was still a kid

and now they hang
on the tiny walls
of the tiny bedroom
where my own child
rests his tiny head

Electronic Translator

I must say it is a fun exercise in
language for one who considers
themself to be a poet; there is so
rarely a pure one-to-one between
your language and another, so it’s
best to just embrace whatever you
happen to get and let go of all your
neurotic tendencies for the sake of
ease and romance and enjoyment
of one another, now, later, forever.

Elocution

is an art form people apparently no longer seem to prioritize; it appears as though, we — as a society — have given up on concepts, opinions, and ideas, since they are often quite difficult to visualize. There was a moment when people I knew pretended to be invested in poetry; but they all gave up on words in favor of images. Instagram became an obsession, and I must be honest, I’m embarrassed that I just mentioned Instagram in a poem, because despite the fact that I could die at any moment, I want my words to live on forever — ambitious (and foolish), I know. But many people have given up on ambition, too — at least according to my preferred definition of ambition. it’s also terribly depressing that folks now would rather scan, scroll, and skim the big and the bold instead of paying attention to both the minute and the meaningful, equally.

Emily Post

seems like she was such a treacherous bore.

Empty Drafts

You must leave
your other life
if you want to
be able to write
about this one.

Otherwise you
are just phoning
it in and fingering
plastic, wasting
your time until five.

End Scene

Mass generalizations
are spoken enough
by the masses that
they get willed into
existence and then
one person takes
offense and another
gets defensive and
then one blames
an individual and
the other blames
society and then

we’re all stuck playing
our separate parts in
this theatrical production.

Engineering Chaos Is Merely a Formality

Poetry is pleasure. Language is freedom. You can say whatever you want, however you want; no, really, you can. And you should. I do. But the thing is, poetry is also power, and language is exercise. How do you want to exercise your power? You must always think, you must always consider this relationship when choosing to speak or to write. Otherwise, please just listen and learn and oogle and observe.

Enigmatic Elder

My bad for asking you so many questions, but can you blame me for wanting to solve the mystery that is you? Will you please go get tea with me and tell me everything you can? Will you please give me your best awkward hug and make me feel like a better man?

equals false

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Estados Unidos

You saw the triangle
above the bar and you
asked is that a sign or
is that a star and I said
I don’t know but I want
to go below the border
and I want to wander
inside the weirdest and/
or worst places and
spaces and I want to
know if you’re willing
to continue to be friends
with someone as bizarre
as me but am I that weird
compared to this country?

Eternal Oy

Every day is
a new version
of the last one.

Yesterday was full of pain,
today is more of the same,
tomorrow will surely be lame.

Every day is
an old standard,
like ragtime, etc.

People are leaving cities
and trashing the country,
Monday through Friday.

Even Flow (Big Apple Remix)

NYC is like a COEXIST bumper sticker peeling off a used BMW.

People say shit they don’t mean; they withhold things they’re feeling.

Cultures have enclaves that bleed into other cultures and parts of the city.

I miss all the big old booties squeezed into wheat-pasted denim.

I miss the people “bargaining” in various Chinese dialects at MSG-level decibels.

I miss the hot garbage, the day-old chicken hanging in windows, the empty bottles of beer floating in pools of vomit, the dollar slices in every neighborhood, the fresh dumplings and dim sum served on back streets, the concerts in illegal venues, the hot rods and the drag shows, and every single one of the Bing-Bong bros. I miss it all.

I miss it all — except for the cops, the developers, the Wall Street douches, the fashion week phonies, the overpriced light pours…okay, I don’t miss it all.

I mostly miss what I choose to remember. I miss the hopes and the dreams and what I had wanted to achieve. I miss feeling like I had partners in the Royal Rumble of life and work.

But now, I’m older and I’m tired; I’m older and I’m wiser. I need to rest; I need to recover.

That city sometimes sleeps, but it’s never sleepy. I need peace and quiet. Good luck to all the boroughs.

Every Club Is a Cult, but Isolation Is an Illness

Religion is the willingness to
give other people the power
to control you and your mind.

And faith is believing in things
you’ll never be able to prove
to anyone, including yourself.

Maybe we don’t need any facts
to feel better about life; in fact,
perhaps facts make thing worse.

Exegesis

Wouldn't it be nice
to be able to read
without having to
worry about what
you should stream?

What's the last text
you chose to inspect
and/or maybe interpret? 

Please excuse me
as I choose to go
on with this informal
interrogation that
nobody requested.

It's such an amusing state
of affairs in this modern world
with demands so in demand.

Exterior Tarmac Burial

A horizontal scrubbing
of body, mind, screen;
did you ever think you
might stand up so clean?

How can you feel so fresh
when everything around you
is so filthy, and how did you
get to this mirrored lot, anyway?

You hear a melody, and it sounds
familiar, like a jingle that burns
both of your ears; do you have
your hammer, anvil, and staples?

Everything seems so laborious
ever since we came out of the fog;
do you ever just want to sit in you
rcar and contemplate destinations?

Stasis can be stable, and stability
can be preferable over excitement;
you've been going nowhere lately,
so why bother going anywhere now?

Fantasy / Sanity

Throw the id through
your ego window and
into the ocean; an ox
and a fox court love
from up above, while
an ax can be an ask
on digital radio today;
today is the greatest
day of no one’s life.

Fast X: Slow Burn

Every time a Tesla crashes,
an angel gets its wings.

Faux-French Echocardiogram

I must say that I am gay
for the wood on the walls
of the bar with the balls
that always brings me
back to the place where
I was when I first came
to LA almost exactly one
decade ago yesterday.

Fever Dream (Fugue No. 1)

Never underestimate the power
of words even the ones you don’t
remember saying in fact those
are often the ones that hit others
the hardest and I’ll never forget
the first time I tried to follow your
directions or her maps and how
often I was led to get lost but now
that I’ve found someone who listens
to me once a week I feel like I can
feel better if I start to heal better
and that reminds me of something
my perhaps most complicated ex
used to always try to convince me
of even though I didn’t need to be
convinced but anyway she believed
that the mind and the heart were
always and would always be forever
intrinsically linked and that would
make me think about how nice it
would be to have your heart and
your mind connected to someone
else’s heart and mind forever or
at least for as long as you lived here
on Earth together and I regret never
being able to tell her that what do
you think am I like completely nuts?

Few Things Compare

Sinéad O’Connor
died for our sins,
and it feels like
all we have
is the memory
of that one
Saturday Night
staying alive.

Fifth Column

Jukebox: “Isn’t it ironic?”

That’s what the American Idol
of Canada once asked me
and everyone else down below.

And now I ask you and you and
you, too: Isn’t it ironic that every
group has the potential to implode
and never build up the foundational
trust required to be stable again?

I ate two edibles (a funny phrase)
and had a dream last night that I
was born a woman and became
a witch and moved to Mexico City
and acquired expertise on crystals.

I think it would just be so lovely
to be able to look through people
and get to the nitty-gritty of Earth.

Am I high, or have I died?

Fight a Felon

I am a pacifist.

I don’t ever want to
have to use my fist.

The only harm I’d sort
of like to see would be
directed towards all the
criminals also known as
cops and conservatives.

Fiver

The end
is the end
is the end
is the end
is when?

Foibles & Follies

I am not the man
you think I am;
I'm more like sand
slipping through
your aging fingers.

I could paint a smile
on my face as I sulk;
but why would I waste
energy like that when
I could just wear a mask?

Following Up (An Honest Excerpt)

To be quite honest, I think it's best that we stay out of each other's lives. I genuinely wish you the best moving forward. It's sad to say goodbye for good, because I really do care about you, but we are just too far apart on so many things these days. It feels like every interaction we have is tense and stressful; that is not a good place to be in with anyone, especially your friends. We rarely have the types of conversations that make me feel calm or happy or centered or inspired or any of the things I want to feel from my closest friends, which you once were.

Forever Stamped

So poetry is freedom
and freedom is death
and I don’t care about
dying if you don’t care
about what you’ve said.

Free Range

When the chickens get sick,
the eggs crack and drip.

We can all hit our targets
and sprout up, but uhh…
lo and behold, you can
indeed find warmth in
the cold; it’s just some
peeps are just too frigid
to approach in the end,
so to start, I’ll depart.

I want to surround myself
with folks who don’t yolk.

French Kiss / Spanish Territory

Would you perahps take the time
out of your busy Tuesday to go
look at unfamiliar flowers and
talk about all of the ways the
world has recently spun us out?

After we burn receipts and desires
maybe we can order a martini or two
and whatever else we do would be
fine with me as long as I get to see
and spend time with you my flambée.

Fruit Stand

You can only
neglect something
for so long before
it rots away.

Fuck Me

Every other day,
I kind of sort of
hate myself, but
that’s why I need
you to love me,
and if you can’t,
at least fuck me?

Full Stack Vibes

If I were to say what makes me melt more than anything else, it would maybe be the mystery of what is under the cardigans of slim librarians.

Fuselage

You can paint me
however you want,
but I’ll fly my body
into the sea maybe
from Malibu or Baja
California; I guess it
all just depends on
my funds and what
time of year it will be.

Regardless, the guards
will be incensed when
they have to find and
filter through every last
bit of debris — shrapnel,
big and small, charred
like a cock on a pit; and
after all the hell you’ve
given me for entering
your airspace, I suppose,
you too can crash and burn.

Gawker, Geisha, Geyser

Two ales, two lagers,
four nations — how
many people can you
count on? I’ll hold up
one hand, five fingers
fully, and motion with
the other, horizontally,
until the wavering stops.

Peek into my head and I’ll
peek into your room, and I’ll
try to remember how you
moved your mouth and how
the wind chimes sounded
from outside your bedroom
window on that cold night,
just hours after resurrection.

I can’t move past all that
has been put on my plate;
instead, I’ll scrape most of
this mess into this a sealable
container to deal with when
I have the appetite for being
destroyed — for now, I’m just
trying to loosen up and let go.

Gen Xers

They're all up on Instagram like,
“Please donate to this non-profit
that helps Sudanese refugees!”

Meanwhile, they’re going
to city council meetings IRL,
protesting affordable housing.

GIF, My Princess

A name is more than a name
An image leads to imagination
Likeness is more murky to define

We as people aim for perfection
But my favorite part of living
Is the tranquility that surprises

You can find it anywhere in life
Sometimes it’s easier to find
In the real world and sometimes
It’s easier to discover it online

You can go on hikes with your dog
You can block out being iced out

You can download on the down-low
You can broadcast to the masses

I’m just trying to avoid inflammation
And find a good woman to say I’m okay

Gigging for Breath

There’s certainly no shortage
of depressing jobs in today’s
garbage-packed economy.

But how is now all that
different from back then?

Then is relative; history is forever.

Like, honestly, tell me:
When did it ever feel like
we weren’t living to die
and dying to live, huh?

Some questions are meant
to be answered, and some
are meant to be rhetorical.

It’s mostly safe to assume
that the latter is preferred.

Taste is a spectrum; we all evolve.

Gmail

Remember when
it was invite only?

A woman named Julien
(she gave that name
to herself at some point)
tried to make me feel
special for getting one
of her exclusive offers.

She introduced me to
good shit like, I dunno,
American Analog Set
and Absolutely Fabulous,
and she bought me beer
and had a crazy libido.

Oh, fuck…I didn’t mention
she was, like, a dozen years
older than me or something;
and for some reason, she, uhh,
bragged about bagging a boy
just barely out of high school.

The best part of this bizarro
situation was that she worked
for Attorney Edgar Snyder, who
always said, “There’s never a fee
unless we get money for you,”
and I always said, “That rules.”

Holy fuck, shit, goddamn —
I am almost forty years old!

Golden One

How did exotic come to describe
erotic dancing? Things like these
are what I think of when I’m driving
15 miles to 15 hours, whether it be
in the Southland, specifically, or up
the coast somewhere near the State
of Jefferson. Oh, I see — you’ve yet
to hear about the “51st state,” famous
for pseudo-libertarian beliefs and
gorgeously haunting graphic design?

Okay, so…

Don’t worry about me or you; we
can meet when I’m back in town.

But if you can’t contain yourself
or your erratic proclivities, well
then, you can do what you need
to do to get your jerk on or off.

Don’t worry about me or you; we
can text while I’m wherever I am.

And hey…

I’m not a man of demands, but
I am, I guess, prone to requests
and recommendations; so if you
want to feel better about feeling
bad, maybe you’ll drive up the 5
with me and we can go drink wine
in a foggy valley or two, watch
grainy television in local watering
holes, and high-five an oversized
stuffed animal until the flags wave?

Goodwill Hunted

I overheard my boys
talking shit on Affleck
and Damon and I had
nothing else to say
other than maybe that
Ben has somehow like
figured out something
at least when it comes
to beautiful babes of
a certain class or some
other type of classifier
and Matt is just an odd
Martian duping idiots
and staying stuck in the
most modern of concrete.

Google: "how to pick a hobby"

I had a tummy ache
after my lunch break.

I had one too many
brain farts by dusk.

Embarrassment ought
to be relative; is it out
of line to take that stance
when it comes to the ways
in which you can feel bad
about your minor moments
and your general existence?

You don't have to answer that;
don't you know you never have
to answer rhetorical questions?

I don't know why I don't yet know
that it is unnecessary to keep my
contacts informed and up to date.

So few actually care about caring.

Punctuation and pronunciations
keep me busy when I'm bored;
I used to think it was impossible
to get bored, but then I got old.

Life is just wasting days until death.

Great White Lies

Tonight, I watched
a three-year-old
eat an entire basket
of seasoned fries.

Afterward, he asked
me, “Daddy, what
does French mean?”

I told him that some
people think it means
art and beauty, but
others think it means
the opposite of freedom.

He followed up by asking,
“What does freedom mean?”

I said, “Freedom is a farce.”

Guitar Gods

Why do they all look like they’re orgasming anytime they’re on stage?

Gut Feelings

After a long day in the bathroom, all you really need is salt and smelling salts; that’s not true — you probably need a few gallons of water and, in all likelihood, a big hug, too.

Hacky Sack

What’s the worst
thing you’ve ever
decided to do with
the time you could
choose to waste?

Hair on Oblivion

The waves and curls
on the youthful dome
in an infinite universe
can make one question
all that’s here and within.

Happy Trees, Little Trees

the armpits of the forest
swoosh like Air Jordans
and the scent of her car
lingers on like the songs
of a Connecticut river
blasting on Tokyo FM

a man can forgive but
a woman can never ever
forget or at least that’s
what a wise grandmother
but not my own told me
at least two moons ago

"Harvest" by Neil Young

I hate all of the sticky stickers placed upon fresh produce; why is this something someone would choose to do? Also, have you ever noticed that all of the supermarket chains in Los Angeles are plural and not possessive? Albertsons, Ralphs, Vons…

Hashing It Out

it never rains in
Los Angeles
but when it does
it’s torrential

at least lately
and well lately
it’s been crazy

and as the river floods
all I want to do
is slurp ramen
and drink bubble-gut beer

I saw the most Hollywood
car crash on the 118 tonight

just hours before on the 405
an unhoused man dodged cars

how does a conscience survive
in the 21st Century when
none that preceded now
have been any better and anyhow

at least lately
I guess lately
it’s been crazy

and now I’m stuck in
in this suburban life
that looks like Denver
and that ain’t so bad

Haves & Have-Nots

I've been burning candles
and letting the wax drip
onto my dying room floor.

I've put down my lonely axe
as I realized I never had
much of anything to grind.

But now I look back on life
and all the notes I've left
behind to anyone of import.

And I remind myself I should
try to get some more sleep
so that I'm fresher for the end.

He / Hymn / His

Would you maybe
want to go see this
obscure vampire
film with me when
I get back into town?

I’m definitely too proud
to beg; I’m also far too
preoccupied to think
twice about theoretical
plans — or theories, for
that matter; I’m mostly
just tired, though, if I’m
being completely honest.

I’ve always been
quite the gallant;
just ask my exes
I still speak with.

Perhaps the only thing
that frustrates me more
than arrogance and
fanaticism is violence.

Some words are more
cutting than knives;
some words are more
explosive than bombs.

I’ve never felt freer
than I feel right now;
I’ll only feel freer once
the words no longer
resound and my head
is more of a home
for my own thoughts
to coexist in peace.

I’ve still got plenty of guts,
but I’ve no doubt lost some
of my old spunk — my sisters
all say I look older to them,
even though I still get carded.

Healing

My whole life, I’ve been the patient;
for once, I wanted to be the doctor.

But almost all of the women in my life
told me it was not possible at this time.

I guess I’ll give up on this newish dream,
and instead, be grateful that I’m still living.

I guess at this point if I could be anything,
I’d just want to be something; that’s sad.

I guess if I could be anything else; wait, no—
I’d be kind of okay just dying as Imi’s dad.

My whole life, I’ve wanted to be patient;
now that I’m learning how, do I need more?

Heartthrob, Starlet, Fan, Monument

When you were thirteen
what else did you dream
other than being with your
partner on the silver screen?

It’s not unusual for one to want
fame and fortune and excess and
great sex and love and money but
none of these things are reality.

So when you or I are asked to live
or die or give or take I guess we
sigh for a moment and exhale
and stop and remember to relax.

Pump the breaks and pump the gas
we must get to going and go real
fast because no matter what you
might prefer the world does not care.

Hello Angel | Hella Angelic

I am so jealous of all the women
I know, and of all those I don’t,
for being able to wear barrettes.

How hot is that? What is the male
equivalent? Wait, no — this isn’t
a gender thing; my son looks great
with them in his lovely locks flowing
from head to neck, while he strums
his little ukulele or slaps his little
accordion or chugs pomegranate
juice from his Spider-man bottle
or sleeps with his Shohei Ohtani
plushie buddy. He’s even cuter
than the cutest athlete I’ve ever
seen, and that’s saying something,
at least I think; know what I mean?

Hey, no need to pretend to be friends.

Hematoma

My baby mama done
ambushed me and
apprehended all fun.

I was indicted on charges
of wanting to still be in love.

While stuck in sex jail,
my blood boiled until
it froze and my channels
knotted each other up.

Back then, I was as free
as a pebble being kicked
down a hipster highway.

These days, I’m more like
Gore Vidal on assignment.

The juices flow up and down,
just like they should, just like
I thought they would when I
first opened my skin for her.

Here Piggy Piggy

I am a pacifist
who hasn’t eaten
meat in half a life
but I wouldn’t feel

anything if I saw
you hung on a spit
having a fit twirling
away as you burn.

Highboy

Some stack clothes
Some stack paper

I just wanna get stoned

Some sack groceries
Some sack randos

I just wanna get stoned

Histrionics

Sit, no stand; stand, no sit. If you’re high, maybe spit; if you’re sad, give me your hand.

We can picnic, if you’d like. All the Christians will have to swallow their pride (I mean spite).

You can vogue or go rogue. Either way, I’m going to play my part of all parts: I’ll be the man in the sac of a hat, feeding hemp milk to stray cats.

I can’t wait for the day when a conservative congressman asks his constituents, “Hey, uhh, you ever think maybe everything should be gay?”

Okay, okay, okay…but!!!

Maybe my son and his friends will someday be able to drink Bud Light at a Dodgers game in peace? Or maybe baseball and piss beer will simply always be synonymous with American tragedy?

[shot fades to seagulls poking at peanut shells and palm trees dancing in the wind at dusk, the smog swirls with pink and purple hues and the fluorescent lights in the parking lot flicker between hope and despair]

Holistic Healing / Integrative Investigations

An a, a the, and the huh?

Don’t worry, baby — it’s okay
if things maybe get a bit crazy.

He, she, you, and they said there
is no what, why, when, or where;
not here, not there, not anywhere.

I looked on the page,
I looked in the alley,
I looked on the stage,
I looked in the valley.

Some wanted their cinema to be
truthful observations and some
just wanted to be entertained;
if you ask me, it’s all the same,
if I get a story that’s not boring.

Some wanted their books to be
able to make them laugh out loud
and some just wanted to feel sad
or bad; the thing is, I don’t think
you ought to voice your literary
demands if you don’t actually read.

Art history is mostly just white dudes
being assholes to everyone else, and
contemporary art is now a lot of white
dudes complaining about how people
don’t care about their trivial pursuits
anymore; if I’m being honest, I’d rather
just do bar trivia than go to a gallery.

It’s not that
I’m not social
anymore; it’s
just that I’m
not on social
media, and I’m
happier and
healthier for it.

Do
you
really
think
every
cat
has
nine
lives?

I used to be so hard on myself
whenever I thought about words
I used or misused or kept to myself;
I don’t know why I’m speaking — or
rather, thinking — like this is all in
the past when, if you really know me,
you know I’m still destroying myself
over the minutiae and the mundane;
maybe I’ll never get to know what’s
going on inside this slo-mo corpse.

Holy, See?

The myriad specters of the pandemic are still haunting me and it’s 2023 — be free of all that hasn’t yet destroyed you and your spirit; that’s basically what a priest said to me over drinks back in my hometown about a week or so ago. Isn’t it wild how men of the cloth drink wine both on and off the clock and never get docked for it? If it weren’t for all the other terrible things that the clergy say, do, and/or enable, I think I might be able to place a little bit of belief in the fever dreams that started this never-ending story filled with never-ending symbolism and set to a soundtrack of self-doubt suffocating pipe organs and pharynxes. As a rule: If you see a guy in a polo shirt playing an acoustic guitar on stage at a church, you should immediately walk out and head straight for a shitty bar.

Home by the River

“Empty the bottle,”
says the bartender.

“Drain the swamp,”
says the television.

The line’s still strong,
bluer than the screen
of death reborn (again).

You want to go back to
the first base you knew
before you got squeezed.

But you are stuck to your seat
and you can’t taste your drink,
and now, as you look around,
you see that you’re surrounded
on all sides by minivans and
electric scooters and legs and
faces that use electric razors.

“I smell sex and candy here…”

"Homo Shit"

It was greyer than Buffalo
Yesterday afternoon in L.A.

But as I sipped on some free tea
I heard doo-wop at the clinic
And I began to dream about
What might happen that night

As I hopped on my first bus
In maybe more than a decade
I couldn’t help but be touched
By the candor of a Christian

This wrinkled old crypt-dweller
In his wrinkled old polo shirt
Told me that gays like me
All burn in the bowels of hell

I told him I’m straight but I hope
I end up in Satan’s anus instead

Homonym Phone

We’re all more wrong
than we’d ever like to
call ourselves out on,
and if this can be off
the record, I’d like to
say that I’m sorry for
all the times that I’ve
been unbearable with
my constant noting of
inaccuracies and mis-
steps in language and
otherwise; please for-
give but don’t forget
me, if you have it in
your delicate hearts.

Horns Play Through Fog

The squinting and the sanctimony is just too much for me to bear, especially when I think about what I’ve already bore under the dome and within the confines of the coronavirus and infiltrated by convoluted conspiracies propagated by self-proclaimed patriots and recent parents. My one new neighbor often says things like “take one to know one,” but I always wonder, and in particular here, it’s like, “Who do you know? What do you know? Are you one of the ones? What does it take?” I’ve recently taken up improv, but the other folks I perform with don’t know that they’re doing a bit with me; the casts and scenes always change, but the central character stays the same. I’m a one of one — that’s the type of thing I might start to say. I don’t what I know; I just know who I am.

Horse, Radish, Pig, Plum

here at the house
there is a feast
to be seen to eat
but I don’t want
none of that no
I don’t want any
thing but the plum

Hotel California: (No) Vacancy

She put a hex on me —
double whammy, baby.

She was so vexing —
super dry, super hazy.

All I ever really wanted was
some semblance of respect.

And all I ever really needed was
something close to tenderness.

But her expectations and demands
superseded my wants and needs.

After I sailed down to the cranky port,
I gave my ego to a witch’s squeeze.

She shuffled tarot cards until
she decided to pour some cups.

We drank red wine and ate shrooms
and I took my lumps and we fucked.

She put a hex on me —
double whammy, baby.

She was so vexing —
super dry, super hazy.

Hunger Strike

There was a god
And then it was
Well it was gone

All my memories
Were spooned
Out of my nails

I will bury them
Out back under
The kitchen table

Where I ate meals
For my first year
As a single father

Hybrid Nature

I walk one step at
a time with my own
red-painted knots
on blue hasty lots
and it goes on and
on until I’m forced
to take off for one
week minimum but
at least it’s on that
flex corporate dime
which is only sort of
not harsh because
of the culture clash
and post-pandemic
blah blah blah etc.

I Got 9 on It

When I think about you
I don’t always think us
through and that’s okay
so you say but can we
be what I want us to be
or are you just trying to
stagnate like the rest of
society as far as can be
seen by at least well me?

I Hope the Peaceful Ruler Sleeps in Peace

One of the best works of art I’ve ever seen was a noose made of rope purchased from the Lowe’s down the street from the artist’s studio, contained within the plastic bag provided to him, along with the receipt for said rope. Depression has consumed me, as of late, and I only feel worse about life when I think about the fact that this artist has not yet had a museum show or anything close to that sort of exposure. This world is such a bitch; the art world is even worse — it’s a son of a bitch.

Ikigai

It's impossible for me to comprehend
your constitution. It's not that I can't
read or process the words; it's just
the process of entertaining your artful
dodging of compassion, reason, and/or
etiquette is so foreign to me and my
upbringing that my eyes start to swell
and my brain begins to sway and my
heart sinks way down to my stomach.

The indigestion that results is unlike
anything I've ever felt — at least since
I stopped eating antacids like how an
aging baseball skipper spits countless
sunflower seeds from his hard, hot seat.

Imi

The only reason
I still care about
living is you, pal.

In Digestion

The cycle
of eating &
excreting
goes on for
an eternity.

In Wonder of the Bred

Here’s the deal:
When I was like
ten years old or
something like
that I thought
those twins who
launched that
cannonball into
my life were just
the coolest ever.

Inanimate

go ahead and smash in my glasses
I don’t care if I ever see my future

go ahead and steal all my records
I don’t care if I ever hear heaven

go ahead and smoke all my weed
I don’t care if I ever sniff prosperity

go ahead and make my gums bleed
I don’t care if I ever eat again friend

go ahead and mix up my medications
I don’t care if I ever feel a single thing

Industry: Before It Broke Me

I used to go to all the things
(at night and during the day).

I don’t know how I managed
or why I tried; I just know I did.

I used to be most of the things
(to as many people I could find).

I don’t know how I managed
or why I tried; I just know I did.

Infinite Info (Roasted in Porcelain)

You ever see someone
or think about someone
and wonder who they are,
where they are from,
what they do, etc.?

Like, what is their deal,
and how can you find out?

Good thing Wikipedia
exists for situations like
when you’re watching
random YouTube videos
and Lily Allen suddenly
enters your boring life.

But what about when
you’re stool-sitting
at a Japanese cafe,
and you really want to
know about that cutie
drinking their hojicha
all by their lonesome?

Thank whatever god
you can only find out
if you ask them, unless
you’re James Dolan,
but then you’re nothing
but a rich creepy douche
with a twisted agenda.

I left the sterilized shop
with my own hojicha latte,
with oat milk — I left alone,
and I wonder what she puts
in her tea, but I’m also fine
not knowing, if that’s that.

I guess I’ll just have to focus
on figuring out my own deal.

I’ve got a few hours to spare,
I’ve got a few cans of beer,
but I’ve got a dog to walk
and a few dozen e-mails
that won’t send themselves.

Intellectual Property

I own everything I say
I own everything I do

You own everything
That you say and do

We both own every
Moment we’ve spent
Together over the years

I don’t care one bit what
Those corrupt justices
Have to say about it

I own everything I say
I own everything I do

You own everything
That you say and do

Interabang

You exclaimed
when you proclaimed
your hatred of everything.

I questioned
your sincerity and your
vulnerability within your skin.

“I never said that.”

How many times have these four words left your mouth the morning after you drank a third martini?

I think I’ll maybe rent a car and drive until we run out of gas.

How many people
actually enjoy
reading anymore?

How many people
actually enjoy
living anymore?

There are few things
I feel compelled to do
every single day, and
I guess I’d say that
most of all, I want to
read (and write) and
live (with my son)
until I have nothing
left to give (to him)
or (to anyone) other-
wise I can’t quite
comprehend what
I’m supposed to do
with brain and body
that my mom and dad
chose to give to me.

Do you actually enjoy
reading or living, huh?

Do you actually enjoy
anything anymore, huh?

Japanese Gin

When I crossed
the threshold
and stood in
her foyer

looking
looking
looking

I spotted
a fishbowl full
of matchbooks
and I asked her:

“Got a light?”

We smoked a pack
and a half out back.

We woke up naked
on her bedroom floor.

And I remembered
what it feels like to
not want to be alone.

And then I asked her
if she wanted to go
get eggs and toast.

Jukebox Reality

Suddenly, there are songbirds
in my enveloping yard and Jeep
commercials are circling my head
in the form of dreams dreamt by
drunks and the dead; tweet tweet
say the elders before they complete
the end of society as we pretend to
know, but it’s all just go with the flow
until we regret to know what we know.

Justified: How Do You Do It?

You are always on the brink of
flipping out, yet still somehow
somewhat enjoying your mild
case of silent sadomasochism.

Just Past the Citrus Grove, the Red Balls Roll into the Canyon

Part One:

I can taste soap in my smoothie,
and I can feel rocks in my chest.

Whenever I’m in the hospital,
I shall wear a bulletproof vest.

These doctors from Stanford
don’t even pretend to care.

Nurses are the only reason why
our dumb asses are still here.

Part Two:

If it is my fortune to die before
my parents, which will be who
knows when, but if it is to be,
then I want to make sure that
I get to see them before I go.

If it is my fortune to die before
my son becomes a man, which
I hope is not the case, but if it is
to be, then I want to make sure
there is one thing that he knows.

There is nobody else I could ever
love as much as I have loved him.

key priorities

shift your views
control your self
option the story
command more
return improved

Kickball on the Brain

I feel like I whiff a lot
these days but maybe
I just need a swift kick
to the noggin and then
I’ll be back to jogging
towards the finish line
like those in parallel
lanes claiming to be
ambitious whatever
that means to them.

King for a Day (Strawberry Fields For Now)

I love every season of every year,
but especially this one, this year.

I would love to get juicy with you
up in Sonoma in a few months.

We can pretend like we
don’t have responsibilities
and as if things never got
any type of way between
you and me and the last time
we had seen each other
in bed or at a bar or wherever
we are or ultimately want to be.

It’d be so special to drink as much
wine as we could in a long weekend.

It’d be extra special if you were my
queen for a night at Golden 1 Center.

Kiss the Sick (When We Need It)

I thought my heart had exploded
and this saint told me about when
he had overdosed and even though
my body didn’t feel any better my
mind did even if slightly until I called
my girlfriend at the time as I walked
around the sterile lodge again and
again and again until she made me
feel like my heart was exploding again.

Lactose Intolerance

I don’t get why
anyone would cry
over spilled milk.

I once saw a drunk
bawl over a broken
cigarette, though.

I felt his pain, as I
have sympathy for
addicts, don’t you?

Lacy & Racy

I appreciate the help
in all the ways you offer.

Keep being naughty; no
really — I love when you
are and when you use
that word and every other
one you mutter, so go on
please continue to go on.

Thank you for your service;
thank you for your everything.

Land Cut by Ravines

She was a mood;
I never knew which
one she was in, though.

She was an enigma;
I could never solve any
of the riddles she wrote.

We went from one coast
to the other, and she went
back to the origin point.

Now I’m carving my path,
and she’s carving hers,
and maybe one day…

Last Request

Never again
will I suck
down swill
until dawn
unless a bar
full of bikers
are willing
to break
bread and
glass while
I oddly dance
like a champ.

Lavender & Lemon

Some women smell
as good as they taste.

One woman transcended
all senses in my experience.

She texts me all the time,
but the time is now still.

But still, I can’t help but
think about her everything.

Thoughts and actions
can be so counterintuitive.

And that’s the problem:
What to do, what to do?

LBC

I got hoppy, surrounded by hipsters,
not far from the gayest beach in town;
some old heads don’t care about much

beyond what they know and have
always known, and there’s nothing
that can be done about that, other
than, I guess, you could say wait;

wait until they die, wait until they see
you cry? But do they have feelings,
or do they just have pride (and/or
money)? I’m not sure I understand

much more than what is right here,
right now, in front of me, and that is
a lack of upward mobility in society.

Leave of Absence

I think everyone should be able to afford to take a month off from life once a year. I believe we’d all shed far less tears. I believe we’d all drink far less beer. I think everyone should be able to afford to take a month off from life once a year.

Leftover Love (Nuked)

Nothing is limitless;
everything is a drag.

I am not lonely so much
as I am lonesome unlike
the doves that run amok
in fairytales told among
idealists and cynics alike;
what’s that mean, huh?

I’ve been drained of feeling,
but I still have legs (barely).

Leroy & My Boy

I watched the Chinese sun set
while drinking my final beers.

It had been far too long since I last
sat in that sacred grass on which
I had so many times parked my ass.

In this moment, I can see the harmony
that is weighted in reality and fantasy.

Moving forward, I would like to propose
to myself that I will be more available;
like, to people and the planet, equally.

A drink can be much like a wink,
an homage to what is or once was.

Letting It Bleed

Both of my blood sisters,
as well as my adopted one,
have become model mothers.

They are lucky to have partners
who make them feel important
and unconditionally loved.

I always wanted that, and
I obviously still do, but I have
become more realistic as I age.

Fifty years ago, Mick said that
you can't always get what
you want, which is true.

But I just want to get what
I need; can't I get something
that makes me feel something?

Libido / Lobotomy

life is often so hard
that you just want
to let go of your grip

please release me
from all that will no
doubt weigh down

the scales of justice
cannot come close
to an accurate read

a cherubic tattooist can
gently inscribe my poems
into the earth above me

but before my last slumber
I'll lie so tight yet asunder
imaging a lovelorn breakfast

gluten-filled dreams
topped off with cream
oh such finite delights

Lifetime Entertainment Services

I have always sympathized with the mothers whose husbands leave them for their shared nanny; that is, until my wife began treating me like a flaming brown paper lunch bag — filled with her dog’s shit — and I decided to move out. Then, once the divorce really started becoming real, our son enrolled in a Montessori-adjacent school and I met our son’s teacher, who is probably ten years younger than I am and has the most taut tummy you can imagine. She never ever wears matching clothes, and it’s somehow the hottest thing. By the time I had met her, I had already left my son’s mother; nonetheless, I started wanting to fuck my son’s teacher. I think he’ll understand once he’s old enough to read this poem.

Lint

We all need reminders
to pay closer attention;
otherwise, we end up
with crud in our cups
and our caves and our
crevices. Free yourself.

Lobster Rolled

Ain't it funny how hipster-ass art folk
don't know anything, like (I don't know)
math or geography or how to be free
from money or influence? Hence why I
have distanced myself from the factory
farms called MFA programs that need
to breed in excess year after year after
year until ignorant youth's bank accounts
can't check themselves, fearful of never
being able to be saved from themselves.

Locked Out & Worn Down

You can break my face
with the key to your space
if you’ll let me in because
I must tell you I haven’t been
able to share what’s within
with anyone the way I thought
I could or would even just like
four years ago for at least
two or three years or so.

Loggorhea

I don’t stop
I won’t stop
I just can’t
Stop words

From exiting
My mouth
And entering
The world

Loose Cigarette / Bad Joke

I drank my way to hell
last night and the night
before I smoked myself
all the way up to the bar
called St. Peter’s Place
and the bouncer told me
there was a $1,000 cover.

The only cover I’ve ever
heard of that should be
that expensive is maybe
that time Jimi Hendrix
made Bob Dylan sound
like a junior varsity guard
jacking open-gym threes.

I don’t think I need to do
any more anything for
a week or two or three
but who’s counting when
every option is a pyramid
in ruins and every plan
is a wet electric blanket?

Los Alamos to Las Cruces

There is truth and there are consequences, whether you’re heading either way on the 101 after a wine tasting or you’re heading out east to Vegas. Some places west of the Mississippi look like Isla Nublar, while others look like Crait. You can eat pie at Area 51, or you can get your teeth cleaned in Ciudad Juárez. If I can get the time, I’ve got the miles. I’ll fly to wherever you want to be, if you’ll eventually drive on open roads with me. I’m tired of traffic and I’m dreaming of freedom.

Lost in a Gully of Despair

I thought I had edited myself, but all I did was embarrass myself. You probably didn’t notice, since so few people ever do. But I was mortified after the fact, and I had a panic attack in the produce section of my local grocer while my toddler tried to chit-chat about pomegranate seeds and sunflower seeds. I wondered whether or not weed or wine would help. All I know is that I’m no longer sure who or what I am or who or what I’ll become.

lotus-eater

thank you for not judging me as you walked me to slumber in a room full of clowns steel and lumber thank you for not holding my held-in depression against me thank you for not giving up on the night even though I couldn’t drink any of those frosty cans of Coors Light

Lupus Fiasco

I kicked my old disease
to the side and pushed
my new one to the front;
you can feel bad for me,
or you can show love to
me (or you can just wait
until there’s no more left
of me, if that’s what you
determine to be the most
comfortable of all options,
friend of my most-recent
self, and soon-to-be foe).

Lush Line After Lush Line (After Death)

It started chill; now it’s full-bodied.

I rode the massive Cascade wave
right down to the kombucha aisle
and dropped at least four bottles
right onto my left knee; how is it
that some people or regions are
just prone to repeated torture?

I don’t actually feel for myself;
is that a problem, or is that more
like some version of a solution?

Stop getting on that stupid fucking
microphone; nobody wants to hear
your annoying big sister voice telling
us to hurry up with our purchases —
we all know you want to go home
to your fixer-upper show or whatever.

Trust me, twat — I want to go home
to the overpriced, but still drinkable
Pinot Noir I just impulse purchased.

When I look at the kaleidoscopic
graphic design on some of these
bottles compared to the shit that
looks like a guy who doesn’t even
understand Microsoft Office maybe
thinks is cool, I’m left wondering, like:

Do I still want to live here in LA, or
should I maybe move to some place
like Austria or Australia or, fuck it…

What am I talking about? I’m drunk.

Maimed Me

It’s okay
I’m okay
I’m only
Bleeding

Making the Best of the Worst

Even the most organized fuckers
can let shit get out of order and
it’s best to invest in good friends
to let you let go of all your negative
tendencies and counterproductive
impulses before you no longer have
a pulse and somebody has to choose
which of your poems will get read
at your premature funeral service.

Malaprop

I am bad. I am a bad man. I am a bad bad man. That’s what she said. That’s what she said about me. That’s what she said about you too. But the thing I know about me. And the thing I know about you and her. It’s that goodness is great and badness is hate. And haters love to be with each other. So you two can fuck. And you two can fuck off. And I’ll never give you the pleasure of hearing me say a malaprop.

Malignant Development

I dreamed that we
would dip biscotti
in Chock full o' Nuts
hugged by Styrofoam
in Italian Williamsburg
at least twice a year,
but it was all a dream,
and now I'm reading
WebMD magazine
in the oncology wing.

Manbaby by the Sea

I wish I could just drown
in water like a drunkard
instead of in all these
reegrets and sorrows.

man-made objectives

You stay all day
in your big box
throwing shade,
throwing rocks.

I have chosen
to walk about
the vampires,
inside and out.

Mantis

I pray not to be
the prey of my
next partner.

“Dead in the head,”
said the root guru.

I hear that faith
is mostly fear;
I have neither.

“Fear not, my friend,”
said the lama’s lama.

Mantra, Action

When you live alone
There are no rules

Give up your phone
There are fewer rules

***

First I pick a peach
Then I pick a plum

Next I brush my teeth
Then I chew some gum

March Madness

I watched growing men
look like prepubescent
children all month long.

It’s okay; humility is far more
necessary than most of us
think these days, but lately,
the male gender has been
confusing being humble with
being humiliated; not okay.

The ides are not the only
time you might want to
beware if you’re aware.

Marfan, Texas

when we drove
from New York
to Los Angeles
a decade ago
I think I know

you’d have liked
to look at lights
and boxes and
stars of course

instead you chose
to sequester us
in Oklahoma City
for long enough
to make me die

you didn’t have
the heart to stop
in Memphis longer
than a hot bar trip

the connection
was probably
lost on the road
somewhere
near Santa Fe

as I listened
to chupacabras
and Terry Allen
I started sinking

my shoulders began
to slump low low low
and I lost my spine
beneath the queen bed
in the Pomona motel

my rapidly drying skin
melted in the parking lot
in the diner next door
but I ignored all the signs

marijuana

some days
I get so stoned
I forget to write

other days
I write so much
I forget to get stoned

the best days
are when I’m so stoned
I can’t stop writing

McSee

He is an amateur diplomat,
hesitant to be called to judge.

He’s a part-time prophet,
who’s impossible to nudge.

You reflect on past times,
seeking a participatory run.

You’re looking for a decent memoir,
and he’s done before you’ve rung.

Meal Plan

Apple
Banana
Coffee

Mega Hurts

It hurts to stand
It hurts to sit
It hurts to sleep
It hurts to live

Mega Über

Hella
Hello

Goodbye
God Gone

Memorex’s Greatest Hits

My mind melted when the love
I cannot live with handed me
a CD-R that contained much
of the misplaced feelings that
I have been feeling for at least
a decade or more and said little
more than “you’re welcome” and
“I hope you like it” and gave me
a kiss on my cheek like we’re
auditioning for the first romantic
comedy in at least as long as or
maybe more than I have been
feeling these misplaced feelings.

Mess ‘Em Guess ‘Em with Hazelwood Jack

Can you tell the difference between a raven and a crow? Don’t worry; neither can I. It’s truly amazing how much and how little one can simultaneously know.

Have you ever spilled expensive organic peach-apple-pear juice full of even more expensive homeopathic herbs between your kitchen counter and your fridge and had it drop into the crevices between each of your toes? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Stereotypes are real; board games are fantasy. I got rooked by a knight and knighted by a rook. I always get robbed in Monopoly by a by-the-books crook.

Thank you for all the pierogies, French fries, and sauerkraut. I’m more into rabbit food these days, though; trust me, you can definitely feel free to put me back in the hat. I’ll love you, nonetheless.

Messy Ktichen

When does appreciation become appropriation? When is it okay for ideas to pass as pastiche? One: I believe respect and devotion are required to dedicate anything to anyone. Two: Sometimes a melting pot is meant to boil over, but if the chef knows what they’re doing, it all works out in the end.

Mia

I could have gotten a beer or two
I could have gotten a cup of coffee
But instead I was lucky to get you

mined mind (line by line)

it’s so simple
to get squeezed
like a pimple
on the oily face
of a teen queen

it’s so exhausting
to deal with how
those in power
can make you feel

but there are times
when it’s on you
and there is nothing
else for you to do

you must accept
what you suspect
is the intent and
pivot the way
you used to watch
Barry Sanders
turn nothing
into something
every November
when you still
ate meat and
still had dreams

wait I went on
and on and on
for a while there

what were we
talking about?

I was engulfed
in a cape and
misread what
you even said

what you typed
is what I meant

forget I said
anything okay?

Misfit Darling (I’m Not)

holy shit I’m so high
I can’t believe how high
I am and you can’t be
who I felt you were
when I first met you
and that’s okay but
it’d be what I’d need
and you were what I felt
I needed and I wish I was
right then but right now
I just want it to be night
so I can die die die and lie
okay okay alright alright

Mocking the Measure of a Man (Not Chill)

Last week, I saw the dude my ex-fiancée cheated on me with many years ago. She’s now in New York — I have no idea what she’s doing these days, though she’s probably still making terrible paintings. He and I were both at the Home Depot in Alhambra — I was carrying my son in my arms on the way to their public toilets; he was scowling at strangers, looking like he had been dragged through hell by Axl Rose. I don’t fully feel bad for him, but I do feel for addicts and alcoholics. So despite the pain he caused me, I hope he gets better and someday finds something that resembles happiness.

Monger

I only want to give you
what you want but also
I hope that it something
of which I have surplus.

Moonlighting As Myself

I don’t know who I am
most of the time most
of my life but there are
some nights when I feel
the way I think I’m meant
to feel if that makes sense.

Moon Nails

The index dips,
as if one knows
anything anymore;

but just like our bodies,
nothing is predictable—
nor sacred, actually.

You can scoop up
some guacamole
and stay insecure
about caloric intake.

You can scrape skin
against the ridges
carved into keratin;

I will contemplate
if and how molecules
might communicate
with each other.

And once I come to
something resembling
a version of a conclusion,

I’ll ponder further what could
be the most pervasive religions
in our neighboring galaxies.

More Suffering, Every Day

From the elbow down on my left arm and the knee down on my left leg, I can now feel tingling, but not in a good way. And every time I receive more test results from my doctors or their contracted labs, I try to avoid doom-scrolling the Internet for answers as to why my body keeps failing me. I’m not the only one who loses patience each time I become a new patient, am I? Maybe I should join a support group for people with chronic pain? If that’s too dramatic, please let me know; I always want to be drama-free. But I think I’d prefer to be pain-free even more than drama-free. Do support groups cost money? Because I think I’d also prefer for whichever one I were to hypothetically join to be hypothetically free. Do you know what I mean?

Motto

Be cautious. Be generous. Be patient.

Muted

There are moments
when you must know
it’s just not your turn.

My Refuge on My Hill

When I make my coffee
each morning I tend to think
about how so many people
have carved themselves out
to be caricatures of what they
once hoped they’d become
and most of those who don’t
just want to hide in the dark
shadows created by the flimsy
cardboard that mimics real life.

My Right Foot

It feels like a cinder block
has been set ablaze, and
I’m wondering if we could
maybe, possibly get Daniel
Day-Lewis to portray me
in my antemortem biopic?

I often feel like how he looks,
which I guess is old and tired
yet virile and vulnerable; how
much longer do I have to live,
and how much longer do I have
to give? No need to answer that.

My White Suit Poem

I’m currently taking
like 30 pills per day
and some days I wish
they would just mix
with something else
and nix me I mean kill
me because what is
even the point of any
of this bullshit that we
call life and you think
that’s selfish of me but
I think it’s selfish of you
to not understand any
one or any thing other
than your pathetic self
and your pathetic ideas
and opinions so fuck you
and fuck every single thing
you stand for you worthless
piece of shit motherfucker.

Namby-Pamby

Don’t talk to me
if you’re going to
talk to me like that.

Goodbye!

Don’t even call me
if you’re going to
call me shit like that.

Goodnight!

Nasal Preservation

I must be honest,
and I have to say
I know this isn’t
going to win me
any fans; still…

I need to tell you
how much I can’t
stand body odor
most of the time,

at least during
the times when
I’m not playing
hoops or fucking
a beautiful babe.

But when the time
comes for me to
smell the crotch of
a working woman,

I can’t help but
slowly inhaling,
as if I’m getting
high on something
better than cocaine.

Near Beer (Nearly Everywhere)

I understand how easy it is for people to make assumptions, because it’s just as easy for me to make pronouncements — or at least it’s easy for me to come across as if that’s what I’m doing (I suppose).

But an opinion is not a fact;
you know this to be true, right? Yes, an opinion is just a thought; and I thought it was fair to share.

Just because I do or do not want to do this, that, or any other thing — well, that doesn’t mean that I am judging you, you, or you for any good or bad reason. And anyway, I’m not sure I really believe in valuing things like that anymore — it’s more like a sliding scale for me, these days.

Listen, I say people should be able to live however they want, so long as they’re not hurting anyone else; by definition, the second half of that statement makes me not a libertarian, but really — I don’t care what you do, so long as you are mindful of the health and safety of your fellow people.

So cheers to near beer and whatever else makes you happy!

Neo-Bohemian

The best songs
are folk songs
except for
in the United States
because here
in this country
folk singers either
talk about how
people used to protest
or they just drink
pistachio-flavored
espresso drinks
from a union-busting
douchebag and yet
they still somehow
have at least
a 2,500-word defense
ready to text you
justifying their actions
and explaining how
they are not complicit
in the global capitalist
corporate takeover
but it’s like hey
why don’t you just
order a black coffee
from Mickey D’s
like the best mandolin
shredder in all of Sicily
would do in my mind?

New Kensington

in my mind
in my dreams
maybe we might
watch fireworks
someday sometime
years from now
on a docked boat
down the river
from where my
alcoholic uncle
and asshole aunt
went to high school
and we can kiss
like you wanted to
when you were too
drunk to remember

New Life New Love Ho Say No Way

What do you do if the new one for you
reveals the real too early in the deal?

New Perspective

We always think
of ourselves as
the victim until
we choose to
listen to another
person speak.

New York Shitty

I always hated how Xenophobic
the locals could be about their
islands and their Yankee pride.

And I despise how flags always rise
like the rents do, at least when mayors
don’t agree on fucking over the layers.

But the first and the worst sin is
the way MTA cards never work when
you’re drunk or high and you’re stuck
standing in line, like a mannequin
at the mall, after hours during family
meal part two and all you can do…

is tell the meathead from Bay Ridge
who called you a fag and a tourist
to choke on his papa’s storied gravy.

No Age (Been Around)

Have you ever considered
wearing a frock in public?

I’ve decided I want to be
bolder in the year 2024.

I’ve now got less than
twelve months to figure
out how to be bolder.

I’ve now got less than
I thought I had when
I first left the nest.

What are you going to
accomplish by the time
you’re forty or whatever?

When is the last time
I asked for your birthday?

I’ve decided I want to be
bolder every new year.

No Pressure

I was listening to this no wave song
that somehow sounded like doo-wop,
and I thought about how if I’d written
something like this, the lyrics would
mostly consist of these titular words
on repeat while the drums would
pummel and the synths would sweep
us all up like the gnarliest, most
romantic tornado anyone in Kansas
had ever seen; rock chalk, fuck off.

Noble Delicatessen

You never know what happens
behind closed doors, and some
people just want more, more, more;
a friend once told me a potato knish
a day keeps the phonies at bay,
but how can you ever really know?

No Myth, Only Me

America is Goliath
I am David

Except in my book
I still lose

Because my story
Is reality

The only fantasy
I live is love

No-News Nomad Blues

begging to be
something
approximating
what I believed
I could become
when I was
somewhat young

no regrets

last fall
someone
told me
that they
loved me

this week
I told them
I loved them

and I haven’t

heard back
from them
ever since

No Skips

Who doesn't want
to find perfection
in a world where
such a thing has
never existed?

No Such Thing As Gospel

Listen to your own thoughts
and make up your own mind.

You’ll only let yourself down
if you give in to the grabbers;
they take and take and take
and give and give only what
you’ll accept until you’re sick,
and they’ll dip when you get
mishandled just enough; but
do you think it’s ever enough?

I’ll be agnostic like an object,
letting my mind be malleable
like the nimblest of bodies —
can you flex what you suggest?

Are you willing to entertain any
such sort of questions, or are
you so confined to the slime of
a one-track mind forever? Oy…

not quite hybrid

work power
&
merge worlds

break hearts
&
end convos

been great
&
gone forever

Not Too Bold

it’s easy to forget
your obligations
when you’re lost

in translations
past midnight
without a fight

and all you want
is for her to care
enough to scare

Ode to Pistachio Road: Patriotism & Pain

I’ve been been called soft and told to walk hard. You know, I’ve never believed men or anything they've said; well, I mean the type of men who pretend like they have no fear or self-doubt. I’ve always said I’m not afraid to die, but now that I’m a father, I’m scared that my boy will lose his dad. Even if I live long enough to matter, I constantly question my worth.

Will I ever feel like a normal person? What does that even mean? What am I talking about? What is the point of anything?

Right now, my entire body feels like it’s being smothered by the apathetic ass of a Hollywood producer. It feels like Steven Adams has set a few dozen picks on me. It feels like I’m being stabbed by Baraka’s Tarkatan blades. It feels everything, really.

Earlier today, my son took a three-hour nap. When he woke up, he said, “I had a dream you bought me ice cream. Will you buy me ice cream?”

It’s Memorial Day, so Google says that most ice cream shops are closed or that the holiday might affect the stores' hours. So we drove to the Vons down the street from my still-new house and I bought him a six-pack of organic strawberry frozen fruit bars. He asked me if I would eat one with him. I told him I’ll wait until I feel better and can get a pistachio milkshake from the Handel’s down on the main drag in my still-new neighborhood. He said, “Okay, daddy. Let’s go there tomorrow and I can get some real ice cream.”

Oh, what a night!

From six to twelve,
I listened to showtunes
with two elderly Thai women
and ate edibles with chopsticks.

Old Prague

I’ll never forget all the hobbled steps
I took on streets so damn cobbled
That I splinted my slender man shins
Only to be told by an ethereal woman
That there was no water or any exits
So I just rolled up like an armadillo
As if I was back in West Texas again
And rolled down the hill and into a bar
And drank enough pints of original Bud
To make my body forget all the pain
And to make my mind forget it too
I guess everything is connected huh?

Olympiad Ad

How many countries
on a current map
do you think you’ve
never even heard of?

How healthy can
competition be
if fourth place is
is to be forgotten?

Why did we even start
fighting in the first place?

Why don’t you think it is
odd to have these gaps?

On the Bright Side

At least my depression
makes me a prolific poet.

One Last Slice

When everything is up in flames
You might give in to your cravings

When everything has gone to shit
You might get the guts to clean up

Meet me at the cardboard corner
Bring a six-pack and two glasses

You can be the server and patron
I’ll simply enjoy what’s left of my life

Onus

You owe it to yourself
and to everyone you know
to be the best person you know
how to be because otherwise why
would anyone want to know you, right?

Open Chords / Closed Doors

24 days a month
7 hours each day

We listen to what could be
We look away from what is

Operation Shun

All the ways that
I’ve gone insane
she still seems
to find pure joy
in making a boy
want to figure out
the most creative
ways to end it all.

Organic Everything

Some people like to bust your balls if you care about yourself or your health or your planet and that’s okay because you probably deserve cracked nuts if you can’t laugh at yourself and how you’re a schmuck and how you can never do enough but what’s the point of living if you’re not even going to try?

Organisms, etc.

Water wiped down
the sandy fabric
and then went
cascading down
the rubbery curves.

All things have
the potential to go
slow and incognito
but this world asks
us to be in a rush.

Benchmarks and
mile-markers give
us purpose and
relativity but time
can change us still.

Overcome, Overdone, Overtime

It is my hope that we will eventually
communicate more calmly and clearly
(in person, and not just electronically).

We all know what we know, and we can
only do what we can, but please don’t
ever expect me to gauge heat properly.

I am burning on both sides of my skin;
you will never be able to understand
vulnerability if your only goal is to win.

Page Not Found

I searched &
I failed, but
no surprise;
am I right?

These people
don’t know how
to back up what
they write; some
sites should not
be cited, others
should not even
be mentioned.

I searched &
e-mailed, but
no response;
should I mind?

Pale Dry Independent Thought

I have this problem with repeating words in conversation or in poems; I mean, you can’t escape things like articles or filler words, but also, why bother including filler words, really? And beyond that…I mean, what are filler words, really? Is it kind of a contextual thing? Like, if you want to be colloquial or something, a certain word might be essential; but then, if you maybe want to be pointed, you realize you should cut most adverbs and adjectives out and collect them and put them in a pile in a drawer like coupons you don’t actually need from stores you wouldn’t otherwise visit? Is that what were talking about? Articles are always crucial, whether it be a, an, or the — or the a or the an that hooks the other to initiate new ways of thinking, acting, or being. But anyway, I still have this problem with repeating.

Parapet Android

The kismet cops
are at it again;
I’m in my bunker
with nothing but
my wits, anxiety,
and a dying cell
phone in hand.

Oh, you thought
I’d stopping eating
an apple a day,
just because my
body is dying, too?

I believe I’ll be
forever beholden
to certain habits,
standards, and
routines; my god,
I could go for some
vegan poutine!

Parasympathetic Trooper

For the entire length of a presidential term, I’ve been trying not to allow my soup to boil over, I’ve been trying not to argue about the packaging of food I shouldn’t eat with stock boys at the local grocery stores, I’ve been tying to stay at the bar for the exact right amount of time, but you can only control so much — the shit’s going to pile up however it chooses, this life is constantly going to take the piss out of you. The state of my union is divorce. The tributaries within myself are all bottled up, and I think I maybe ought to put the bottle down, at least while I make an honest and sincere attempt to better understand myself from within the center out to the expanded tips. Don’t we all want to be centered? Don’t we all want to reach our tips? I shouldn’t say shit like that. Generalizations are stifling and drastically inaccurate, typically speaking. I know about as much about you as you know about me, and that’s the whole fucking point — you don’t know anything about me. When my parents were younger, people joined bowling clubs and stuff; now, what do people do? Small communities are conformist; online communities are isolationist; but here, in this sprawling city, whose population is actually indeterminate, community is nearly impossible to attain for most of those who reside within its core or on its margins. Lately, I have begun to wonder who or what I am, how and where I stand, and why I even bother to attempt to give a damn.

Parenthood

The embryo you watch grow
into the weirdest character
in the novel you accidentally
decided to write at some point
in your unexpected life is what
makes it worth it at all, really.

Passion and Compassion

Hammer banging nail
From hand to chest

Two hearts chained tightly together
The brain and the body get no rest

The savior and salvation
The damned and damnation

We mustn’t judge lest we shall be
Judged ourselves without sympathy

Peace Be With You

My body is inflamed from the roots to the limbs, and my brain can hardly contain the vapors floating round and round up in there ever since I was back in teen town. Damn, just about any thought or feeling or song can be misperceived. But as I listened to this podcast about mall cops while driving on the 210 East, I had full clarity; I couldn’t help but mutter to myself, “Mall cops are bastards, too.”

Just then, a CHP officer pulled me over for allegedly speeding; I was like, “I’m really sorry, sir — I didn’t think I was speeding; I was definitely in a hurry, though — I’m on my way to pick up my son from school and I have irritable bowel syndrome and I really have to poop.” By the look on his face, it seemed like nobody had ever been so honest with him — at home, in the office, or on the road. He still gave me a ticket, but he said there was a Jack in the Box off the next exit if I couldn’t hold it any longer.

Pedantic / Perturbed

Why is it that people
continue to confuse
things like lecterns
and podiums, and
why do these fuck-
ups, minor as they
may be, bother me
so goddamn much?

Pencil Shavings and Heartbreak

I was born north of the Mason-Dixon, so I’ve only drank moonshine a few times, but I grew up on the moon and I’ve been to Chicago half a dozen times, so I know about the potion that was concocted on Lake Michigan by some invertebrates with big boners during one of the saddest times in America — but aren’t they all sad times, if you think about it? That’s a rhetorical question; of course they are!

Pentacle

maybe I’ll just die
like those tomatoes
wilting in my fridge

the ones I bought
for you that you
chose to ignore

maybe I’ll be born
again like a moron

original ideas are
so hard to come by

in the 21st century
so I can’t really blame
anyone for giving up

but if you’re just bored
maybe go for a walk
and find your own life

Penultimate Paradox

How do you let anyone
know you don’t really
want to live anymore
without making them
think you want to die?

People & Organizations

The discomfort
of being oneself
is more common
than most might
admit — so why
can’t we all try
to make others
more comfortable?

Pep Boy

Yesterday morning,
I noticed yet another
dent in my daily life.

Last night, I decided
to super-glue myself
to myself for comfort.

Here’s an inspirational
quote from me to you:
“Once you find yourself,
try to never lose yourself.”

You should put that shit
on a mega church sign for
suburban white people who
want you to take their money.

Perpetual Check

One puts one down
Other comes up for air

It’s so hard to find a mate

Other goes down of fear
One pulls one back up

Pet Poem

You can take a cab
while I ride in the ambulance;
it's okay, I swear —
I never thought you'd be
by my side, anyway.

I've been smelling
oranges everywhere I go;
it's amazing how amazing
they make everything smell
until they rot away.

There are days when
I miss smearing oil paint
on super-taut surfaces
while I let my greatest hits
blast on a busted MacBook.

But my joints no longer
allow me to do much more
than type and walk these days;
when I think about feelings,
I just want to get high.

While I rest my eyes,
can you tell me tall tales
about how you were once
a baker or a ballerina or
someone other than you?

If I stay, I still have to see you;
if I go, maybe I can come back
as my favorite person's cat,
and he can feed me his leftovers
and we can watch Star Wars?

Petroleum Jelly

dry hard skin
don’t be glib

no longer cold
we must hold

onto the moment
and stay cogent

oh what a ride
just make it slide

Pits & Vinegar

Fruit flies
Don’t bother me

Fuck you
Don’t bother me

Placebo

I have so many medications on my
nightstand, I sometimes forget what
I have already swallowed and what
I still need to stomach; does it even
matter anymore, or am I just trying
to get by until I say goodnight, hmm?

Pleonasm, be gone!

I'm working
on being more
concise this year.

Poached Life

I’m so over
being easy.

I’m tired of
scrambling.

I’m bored
and fried.

Take me;
I’m ready.

Pocket Change

I’ve been dealing with the ups and
downs, the ups and downs, the ups
and downs for more than a quarter
of a century; I’m ready to get dimed.

My back is as stiff as John Belushi
at an all-you-can-snort buffet, but
hey, I guess by now, I’m used to this;
I mean getting boned, and it’s likely
time to throw out the first pitch at my
second attempt with the game of life —
how boring can it all be once you really
start to write down the ins and outs?

The answer is probably not what you
had been hoping for when you chose
to be my friend; don’t worry — I’m not
trying to let myself go; I’m not trying to
pass out, pass away, fade off, of fade
away; to be honest, I’m not even really
trying to do much more than the bare
minimum, as I seen the value in that.

You think hard work pays off, but in
the end, you don’t get what you earn,
you don’t get what you deserve; you
just get mad hard and blow your load.

Poesia Borghese

Some people make paintings; some people do karaoke. Some people do both, while others do one while appearing to do the other. Does this make any sense to you, like, even at all?

I once considered writing an essay about how there are so many folks smearing pigment around on surfaces, in such a blasé way, as if they are under the influence of their own egos (that were inflated by their professors and their parents who helped pay their professors’ coastal elite lifestyles) that it has come to seem as if their ridiculously meticulous studios are something approximating Japanese boxes in which you are meant to drunkenly scream David Bowie songs (or whatever) at your friends — or at least the people you consider to be your friends at the moment — but ultimately, I decided that I don’t care enough the art world anymore.

Once I gave myself a thumbs down, I contemplated why thousands of people continue to seek out unrequited love affairs on a daily basis, really. But really, I still haven’t come close to anything close to a conclusion; nothing even appearing to be something like a thesis, if I’m being completely honest with you. And without a thesis, how can you write a dissertation?

At least once a week, I regret having wasted the time and money smearing pigment myself. I conceived a thesis; I executed a dissertation. But who cares? I don’t need to be a certificate to be an artist. I don’t need power to be a poet. Status is an illusion.

Poison

Three years of depression
and disappointment caused
me to vomit on my person
and my possessions while
driving past the magnates’
mansions and through the
concrete commercial pits
surrounded on all sides by
fluctuating flora where all
my new carnivorous canine
neighbors roam and now I
stare at the wafer in the water
as it foams and foams and
I wonder: Was it the pandemic
and the divorce and the lonely
longshoreman lifestyle and
the myriad micro-aggressions
that I’ve been dealing with,
or was it just the pizza I ate?

Popping or Working

The truth will always
get you — one way or
another — so you might
as well just be yourself,
as much as you can be.

Authenticity is a virtue,
among some — among
the real ones — so don’t
trip, just spit, and fear
not if you see a camera.

Portable Hostel

I was a dweller
on some dry land
until I met up
with those three
stooges in France.

Everything got wet
and blurry after they
started Jonesing for
more and more, and
then I was slipping
over my own words,
trying to find my keys
and trying to find
the door through
which I could pass;
and once I woke
at forty-five degrees,
I felt like such an ass.

Thank goodness I have
a brain and technology;
otherwise, I'd be derelict.

Potential

We spend our entire lives
either meeting, exceeding,
or falling short of expectations
created for us by other people.

There are moments in between
where we remind ourselves
that joy is not a sin and we try
to find peace and comfort within.

But the planet on which we roam
is a sphere, and the time we spend
existing is a circle; at some point,
circles always return to the start.

And we start with expectations,
and we end with expectations,
and the axis and our center
simply remind us of our potential.

Precious Stones

More than ten years ago,
I unearthed something
remarkable in Philadelphia.

I’d lay on leaves of grass
in lesbian-laden public parks
next to flower-printed fabrics,
then I’d go drink cheap beer
in bars with cats and patrons
who chainsaw the sidewalk
and opine about everything.

It’s just not okay how okay
one can be with losing
things so special, so easily.

Processing

Pawns and jawn after pawns and jawn, left in claw; I crush and crawl, and I ask where y’all be when I need to be, and I guess I learned, electronically — that we are never quite who we say we are to be, so we maybe ought to just be who we think we could be…because potential is way more powerful than what we believe reality will ultimately be, and shape is more important than sound, at least historically.

So back to Philly: Here we are now, entertain me; no, I don’t need us — I don’t care about us. I’m not from Philly, and to be honest I’m kind of tired of Joel Embiid doing a 180. Instead, just do a thing; do a thing that lasts longer than a thing — please, please, please, please, do more than a 180, Joel Embiid!

Thank you — my guy, my friend, my enemy, my stranger, my Joel Embiid!

Professional Depression

There comes a time in your life
when you realize you are older
than all of your favorite athletes.

Prolegomenon

Open your mind. Let the utilities run.

Keep your eyes focused. Stay with yourself.

Take notes. Share with goodwill.

Prolific Pens

So many women
have become muses
for me and other men,
and I don’t intend for
that to be sexist, clearly;
rather, quite the contrary,
as I believe the reprieve
a divine being can offer
is crucial to and for the
survival of a fragile man
and his fragile fucking ego.

Go ahead and mock me;
it’s okay, I don’t mind —
perhaps someday you
will inspiration, too.

Providence

So many maladies;
so much for a priest.

I think I’ll just stay
in this hospital bed
and drink this tea
and think on how
I’d rather be lying
on a massage bed.

God, it hurts to be alive;
but lord knows I’ll be fine.

Pseudoscience Fiction

I have a face
without a view

and
yet

I would love to see
a life without you

Raised Voices (& Glasses)

I know I’ve apologized
more than you deserve;
I’ve also never heard
you say you’re sorry.

And you know, I never
once gave you hate,
despite the word puke
you loved to spew.

Having said all that,
I can’t wait to speak
proudly and publicly
about the one thing
that keeps us bound.

I promise to make good
on the promises you made
go bad, and I’ll begin to
forget all the things I still
wish that I could have had.

Ranch Life (Chock full o’Nuts)

I tried to tell the Chicano cowboys
About the little chicken bones
That me and my boys accidentally
Dug up on my new farm with foam
And grit and they ground coffee
For me without me having to ask

Sometimes it just feels good to be
Understood despite a language
Barrier or any other obstructions

Sometimes it just feels good to be
Accompanied by a kind soul or two

Raw Diary

is probably what Hikaru would call my poetry. when we were roommates in Bed-Stuy after college, he would talk to the pipes in his bedroom and write his thoughts down in a beautiful Japanese journal. he would bring home leftover bento boxes from the restaurant where he worked; these were often the only fresh meals he and I could afford that year. and in return, I would give him a couple of Budweisers from the bulletproof bodega across the street from our building. our big sister would make fun of how little I ate while she’d bite his cartoonishly oversized head. it was a Section 8 family lifestyle portrait, with dirty laundry for miles and miles. and my immune system was worsening daily, and his safety was in peril, and she missed her future husband more than our simple selves could have possibly perceived. it was the darkest cinema after she left us for the South. we’d sit on our camping chairs in the otherwise empty living room and blow up the television until our eyes burned. but then one day, he graduated to mature women, and a soldier with a van full of beer picked me up and drove me through Appalachia to a yin-yang time-warp town. Soon, we would both get to start anew, just like the girl with the name that sounds like that of a rebel Jew.

Recession

Everybody worries about money
Even the wealthiest motherfuckers

I have nightmares about my teeth
Falling out before I can join AARP

And as I walk from one side of this mall
To the other I wonder why balding men
Don’t just shave their heads to the scalp

And as I drive myself into the deepest
Depths of neuroses I worry that I’ll be
Nothing to anybody especially my son

Refined Palate

I don’t care much for desserts,
and I have no use for sugar
in my coffee (or otherwise, really).

I do appreciate especially sweet
peeps, though, as they are nearly
as rare as illuminated manuscripts.

Replace or Rescue

There are so many bottles of pills
in my bedroom, you’d think I was
an addict, but instead, my body is
just pathetic; like that tagline for
that shitty action movie says,
“I’ll die when I’m dead.”

Return to Pig City

A reincarnated woman
asked me if I would marry
her while we listened to
this theoretical band
called Gangs of War
on this busted stereo.

At the first party since
my last relationship,
there was a DJ from Riga;
he played all the songs
that should have been
hits from the last century.

I’ve been on the outskirts
for nearly two years straight;
now I’m back on the streets
with myriad sirens blasting,
and I’m on this new lifestyle
shit: Buddhist, vegan, fasting.

Nobody knows, nobody cares;
I’m not even sure if I’ll be here
by the next time strangers
come knocking for the census,
but while I’m stuck like a nut,
I figure I might as well crack.

Rhupus Room

How many times
have I been made
to feel like there is
little reason to be
alive? I dunno, but
I guess I’ll just wait
here by myself in
the Rhupus Room
and get ready to die.

Right Said Fred

There is a good man who I believe will someday be a part of history; he’s half-Jew, half-who; a who is enigmatic, not dogmatic; yet this Jew/who lives in a church and has never left me in the lurch; I would hope he finds comfort in reciprocity, the kind I think we both practice; our neuroses, our obsessions, our generosity, our affection — we share these things in common; but he is older and (sometimes) wiser; and despite perhaps not believing in the afterlife designed for us by dead dudes in cobwebs, he is very concerned with what happens to our names and our images after we die; he is devoted in a way that most folks cannot comprehend; he has boxed his shadow, he has been a cowboy and a troubadour, he has honored witches, he has played with aliens and dogs and rats alike; he is the savviest luddite I have ever known; I ask you, Jew/who, am I right or am I wrong?

“Right,” said Fred. “Right,” said Fred.

Riled Up (Godfather Gets Me)

I never cared much for potato chips, but these ones are made from avocado oil and I don’t know, but damn, they taste like just what I need, I guess. And the Malbec I pulled from the mid-shelf somehow makes the salt feel perfectly necessary. Also, I’m thinking back on the first weekend of freedom when I had uprooted my life and drank South Bay beers and ate two types of French fries while watching the Knicks lose to I forget who before having seconds with Paul Thomas Anderson. The East Coast clowns the West Coast, but from where I’m standing, eating, and drinking, I’ll be slipping, shitting, and dying soon enough; just give me an expected natural disaster. But…in the meantime, you can scrape your windshield, deal with “showtime,” and/or enjoy your time watching Guardians of the Galaxy with the person who pumps your gas. I say good luck and goodbye and stop trying to try; we can be acquaintances at best and if that’s the best you can do, you are who you are; who am I?

Ring the Bell

Face down on a table,
I will be like a dead fish.

But think of me instead as
a nice slice of land meat.

Beat me up; knead me, too —
go ahead: use oil, if you must.

It’s getting hot in here (so hot),
so take off all your clothes (ayy).

Roasted Cauliflower & Dark Chocolate

After an entire bottle of red wine,
I realized they sorta taste the same.

Robotic (Nite Jamb)

figurine comes alive
portraits cannot define

maybe you tear a page
perhaps you tear an ACL

nothing makes any sense
once you’re old enough to

rent a car or get divorced
or realize you’ll never live

long enough to buy a house
so why not go underground?

Rosa-Luxemburg-Platz

Last night, I had a dream I was caught on camera drooling at the Miss Hong Kong pageant, but when I woke up this afternoon, I was lying next to the most beautiful woman from Kowloon City and surrounded by synthesizers and Simone de Beauvoir texts; how did I get so lucky to have this kind of sex?

Saturday Night Life

One of the most romantic dinners
I’ve ever had was a cheese plate
from Murray’s on a hand-me-down
mattress dressed in Target sheets.

Sax Massage

Magic fingers
Jazz hands
Magic fingers
Jazz hands

Just like how
Two things
Can both be
Right I think
Two things
Can become
One over time
And that’s fine

Live jazz
Dead magic
Live jazz
Dead magic

Schmuck

I try to believe things can be better
than how they currently are but
I know better so of course things
can and will always only get worse.

Scrambled Eggs

the unborn have nothing
to look forward to aside
from big mouths cracking
their future shells with lies
and judgment and vibes
that could kill any cherub
immediately upon landing
on the toxic pan called Earth

Sea Salt

I love the smell of the hot beach and the way it makes you smell once you come home and settle into the warm comfort of cold sheets.

“Selfie Bitch”

That’s what one ex
called another ex.

I am so relieved that
both exes are exes.

Semi-Dozen

I talked to my mom again this weekend;
she said maybe I should start running
more than I have been, she said maybe
I should start taking more vitamin D, too;
I can never remember what each vitamin
helps with other than vitamin C since I’m
always sick; I saw my best friend again
this weekend; it’s been a few months,
and prior to that, a few years; I always
forget how much I miss home until I cry
in my bed alone; one of these days, I’ll
take Imi back to Pittsburgh for pierogies.

Sessions

A place is only a place
if you acknowledge it
and sadly not enough
people staked a claim.

I’ll drink to the brink
of feeling some sense
of regret over not being
more present in moments.

Once at least once I’d like
to publish a poem in neon
for the public to see in the
streets as they walk in bliss.

Sever & Win

Break away
from the abuse
pull into the absurd
and take comfort
in the love that you
never realized
was there.

Sfumato

it takes so much time
so much effort to refine
in order to define after
all of the years of ideas

and opinions and memories
and other thoughts all just
blurring together to make
portraits and still-lifes that

you thought you’d never want
to see again but then you’re
stuck somewhere in Paris or
Texas looking back in vain

trying to abstain from the pain
each one of your mistakes has
created for each one of your
past lives until you lose count

SFV / SGV

I love valleys
I love peaks
I love valleys
Oh I love you

Shadowboxing

The moon grows
on my fingers
more than I would
have expected
in an enclosed
silhouette, if you
can imagine.

But I can’t expect
anything from
anyone for much
more than a moment.

You hope for the best;
I advocate for no regrets.

Sheepish No More

Today in therapy, I talked about how the coldest, most inscrutable woman I ever dated was the only person who routinely came to doctor’s appointments with me. I guess warmth is relative and understanding is debatable. I’m still disappointed she didn’t want to go to a red sauce restaurant with me in Buffalo. Some memories just stick better than others.

Tonight, as I sort of doze off while accompanied by a whole lot of shameless wannabe Hollywood fucks and my body twists and turns from the neck down as the antidepressants, antiphlogistics, and psychedelics slowly seep into every nook of my body’s book, I flip back to prior pages and ask myself, “Who was I? Who was she? Who were we?” I’ll never know, because I’m not sure I ever fully knew her or myself. But I’m starting to learn more about me now. And I hope she’s doing the same, in her own way.

We’re both good people, regardless of some bad choices we’ve made.

Shoplifting

should not be a crime
if a person who has little
steals from a company
that has board members.

Shopping for Peccadilloes

an aging woman I once knew
used to take pen to paper
and list in excess all the things
she could hold against you

she’d put them in her virtual cart
and store them all for months
even years until she was ready
to purchase the pettiest snubs

Shore Up

I am an island
and you can feel
free to wreck
your ship on me.

Siamese Dreamscape

The moon is a good god
The food is all but gone

Scrape the porcelain plate
And just toss it to the side

A pile of surface-level issues
On every surface identified

A pleasure piece for you
Is pleasurable for me too

A pile of white oblong pills
At the center of my mantle

Scrape the porcelain paint
Off the farmhouse panel

Let’s walk my dog and pet
Your cats and melt in bed

Sick & Tired & Lonely

This week
When I swallow
I taste zinc

Zzzzzzz

Maybe next
I’ll start to follow
Leads for sex

Sierra Nevada (Torpedo)

There’s a psycho killer
making fantasy claims
up in the burn zone.

Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho!

He entered my life
like sandman in strife
and exited like a light.

Sketchy Accounts

I think of biographies like alphabet soup: The letter noodles are the bits approximating fact and the broth is the fictional bullshit in which reality swims. So I guess my point is that we mostly tell ourselves and each other stories that sit on a spectrum between fibs and farce, all fabricated for no good reason, other than entertainment.

Skinny Fingers

If you can pluck
a clean arpeggio
while half-drunk
on half a bottle
of blended red

halfway into the night
on a fully empty belly
other than the oyster
crackers you fished
out of your tiny purse

I will tell you how
much I love you
in front of friends
or inside your bed
without hesitation.

Sky Flavor

I haven’t been breathing
like I used to for the past
week or two or three or
what does it even matter
at this point when you
only care if I stay alive
because of how it may
or may not but probably
will affect your own life?

Sloth Sofa

Lounge life
got you feeling
slight and right
about now you
might want to
die since you
were reminded
that your last
love before your
ex-wife is now
married so what
is the point of
anything really?

Sluice Flow / Orcutt Riff

city boy in the country

been an old man
for at least a minute

you can hear the cracks
down near the creeks

country in the city boy

open your eardrums
if you want to feel
the good vibrations

now size up your eyelids
you know you can’t ever
know what you can’t see

Slumlords

I see bed frames
all over heaven
and see nothing
but black hearts.

So Tense

The past is for regrets
The present is for stress
The future is for death

Social Standing

I can’t stand millionaire faux-philanthropists, until they make my life easier. I’m human, just like you. When they refuse to ruin my day, I guess they are, too. But what if we didn’t live in a capitalist nation? Then would they go on a sympathetic vacation? That was obviously a rhetorical question…

Some Breaths Are Stolen

Never trust anyone you ever meet
whose favorite band is The Police;
they most likely are also a fan of
one or more of the following things:

1. Unfettered authority
2. New age nonsense
3. Trickle-down economics

The truth sure stings, doesn’t it?

Something’s Wrong (Your Song)

The vessels in my left forearm
are tingling like they want to fuck,
but the rest of my body is saying
it wants to croak; now my hand is
numb, and I can barely use my
thumb to type this poem or text
you that I want you to come over
and kiss me and calm me down
with your unfounded optimism.

Sometimes Snail, Usually Human

After a morning of pulling out of the gym and coming onto the breadbasket, I amplified my life and pressed the ground extra tight. Next, I moved on to some trivial pursuits and circled back to flip-flopping between work and play, checking one thing after the next off my infinite laundry list. My mid-afternoon meeting changed my life; isn’t it wild how and, I guess (or maybe I mean), what you can eventually become once you decide you have suffered for long enough?

Satire is king; sarcasm is queen. And what’s more ironic than reality? But no, for real, I now have a drawn-out life to look forward to since I have become gluten-free — at least that’s what a couple of doctors told me.

On my evening walk around the neighborhood, I thought about how many people move in circles, but here, where I currently reside, I tend to walk in irregular paths; if I drew them out on a map, they’d look like clothes hangers or nooses.

Fittingly, my night concluded with some criminal searches and crunches and NBA free agency rumors and, finally, a YouTube marathon. I can so easily get nostalgic at (and/or for) the night. But these days, I’m always so weak and tired, no matter how many hours I embrace or fight.

Somm Body (Hetero Love)

My main guy just returned
from his stepmotherland
with his beloved papa bird,
and I swear — it’s never felt
better to see his soft face.

I looked through his new library
of free-verse crip images and
made at least three too many
pop culture references for his
preferences, but this is what
we both get when we get
together — and it only takes
as long as a sitcom episode
to rev the engines back up
to full speed; however, on
this particular evening, he
was jet-lagged, and well,
I was feeling death crawling
inside me, but we both tried
our best to push through it all.

The diplomat of all dudes
decided to fly us back to
the Mediterranean in his
mind, and we ate and drank
like decent real estate agents.

Sonoma Stain

Running on fumes can
lead to run-on sentences.

I need to get better sleep;
I need to turn off my screens.

I’m sorry about my anxiety;
I’m sorry about my neuroses.

My body tears itself apart
as my brain melts away.

Speakerphone, or The Spunk of the Young

Hello, hello, hello!

The cabs are here,
the nag is there, and
I was once everywhere.

Do you remember how
we used to show such
promise before thirty?

Goodbye, old friends!

Spud Webb Kinda Soul

I never feel bad about how I’ve spent
the day when I look at my poem count
and I’ve reached more than the amount
of drinks I’ve had up to that point; but
I must ask if this makes me a caricature.

I care not to think any harder about
this than I already have, and you can’t
make me any more depressed than I
already am; hey, if you choose to fall
into the trenches with me, well then,
I say that’s on you, my friend (or foe),
if that’s the field you choose to sow.

St. Nick

I met a non-religious, yet pious, man a few months before the world shut down for what seemed like a lifetime. This period on the planet made sane people go mad, good people go bad, and bad people go evil. He and I just went into hiding.

Prior to this fortuitous introduction, I could count on one hand how many people I’d ever met who talk as much as I do, or who love as much as I do. It was kind of terrible timing to have met him, of course — if it weren’t for basketball and technology. We texted about hoops every day until we both received our mystery jabs. Sadly, I was secretly on the receiving end of countless domestic jabs, as well.

In your most fragile moments, your brain might inform you that you need to exit certain relationships, despite your heart’s desires. And in your most vulnerable moments, you might be lucky enough of a bloke to have a Great Samaritan just show up with a six-pack of beer and a shitload of stories.

Statement

One of the worst things about America is you can’t pee in the streets.

Stiff White Knuckles

It's easy to freak
yourself out when
you're driving your
self to your birthday
party in a weathered
hearse and your cell
phone has once again
inexplicably lost service.

Storyteller

I’m self-aware
enough
to know that
when a person
asks me a question
they’re looking for
a sentence
not a paragraph
but that doesn’t
stop me
from reciting
at least a chapter.

Subterranean Wealth

You think you are king,
I think you are hellish;
neither is quite right,
but wrong is relative.

Sun Bitch

Put me under the overhang
and wrap me in a cold tarp.

I love nature, but I don’t need
to be outside if my sides will
become charred like a pig
swallowed by fire on a spit.

I’ve never wanted to run with
the big dogs; I’m fine staying
on the porch, if that means
I can sip on my sweaty rosé.

For real, though: Don’t mind
me or my wine-soaked mind.

Supertramp is a great name for a band.

If I were to go around the world,
I’d want to do it in at least 160 days;
self-proclaimed adventurers and
egotistical entrepreneurs are always
in such a rush, while flâneurs like me
have a better sense of how to enjoy
what is actually right in front of us;
unfortunately, we typically don’t
have the funds to maximize our fun.

Supple Rhyme Time

Bury the living lies if you want to stay alive; don’t forget the dead if you’d prefer not to lose your head. It’s this kind of shit that makes you wince; thinking beyond what’s for lunch can be the pits. Every day, you can itch at that rash; every night can feel like Ogden Nash. You may feel like you’re seeing curtains, but perhaps you’re just looking for some respite. This is the part of the flick where pretentious people say, “Fin.”

Supremely Blessed

Don’t be mad.

Don’t be sad.

Be attitude.

Surfing the Dumb

The kids always invent
a brand-new lexicon
to evade the asinine
and ass-backwards

authorities that any
of us with common
sense avoid, as well;

but well, if every
other word needs
to be translated,

we’ll probably continue
to cede power to all the
silicon-infused vermin,

who be tripping on
power and ketamine,
and own the land on
which you piss and shit.

Swinging Dick

I’m not sure anything is sillier
than a Rococo painting, other
than maybe when a man can’t
admit that he is in the wrong.

Symmetry

Nothing is the same,
only sometimes similar;
symmetry is a concept
in theory, not in practice.

Syncope

Cerebral personas
can be subject
to change, and
they often do;
as a means of
what, I'm not sure.

I'll lay on the floor,
until someone
decides to pour
salt on my face;
I am now chalk
outlining this place.

Systemic Poem

Everything
that once was
is not always
and everything
that now is
will not be
but when we
look back and
look forward
we must think
about ourselves
and each other
because if we
lose our minds
and our hearts
and everything
else in bewteen
we will never
get any parts of
ourselves back.

Tangled Web {and/or} Finger Trapped

Oh snap
I’m back
I’m bad
Says her

Or she
Says he
Or him
Says Jim

Christ
Almighty
Holly
Golightly

The relief
Of being
All alone
After all

You can’t
Possibly
You won’t
Probably

How could
You would
You would
Not good

Teenage CIA (Undercover Brother)

The blood and the wine
congealed in my mouth,
and once I felt it was fine
to spit it all out, I felt fine,
too; and to be honest, that
is a tenuous line to cross.

It’s unlike anything you can
imagine; it’s almost like being
an indie rock icon who was
once an ace pitcher and a
school teacher (also, a fun
drunk wherever he drinks).

Teerak Forest

every day
ends at 10 pm

you lock
your phone

you block
your poison

you chop
your wood

and pile it
into your car

drive as far
as you can go

and cover me
with your honey

Terrene

Zig-zagging
On every type
Of surface
Rare and equal

This place knows
All of our pain
No matter how
Big or how small

Tesserae

perhaps you’d like to lay down the material worth of our lifetimes with me somewhere where we can watch time pass via the sun and the shade and while we’re sweating on top of each other we can admit mistakes and apologize for things we said and did or didn’t say or didn’t do going all the way back to the first summer we met each other and even further back if you find that to be appealing in the slightest

Texas Meadow

you think I forgot
about when we
first became real
together but then
I splayed my face
on your birthday
table because hey
remember when
we wandered that
dying landscape
together that was
something else that
was something for
sure and to be sure
we can still be real
together forever
if you want okay

Thank You & Thank you

One of my colleagues
includes “thank you”
in his e-mail signature,
so every time he writes
anybody he says it twice;
I guess if you double your
gratitude, you come off
extra nice? Is that true?

Thank You for Shopping With Us! Have A Nice Day!

Capitalism kills more people
than guns and drugs combined;
I don’t have the exact statistics
in front of me, but you can look
them up if you really want to know.

The Axe Is Laid at the Feet

She chopped me down,
but I planted my own seeds
to grow back even taller
than I was when I met her.

I stand straight like a Sequoia
and I wrap my branches around
our prodigious progeny, protecting
him without projecting, hopefully.

And maybe once I wilt, he’ll
have read the words I’ve written
about him and I’ll have given
him enough money to help.

The Barracks

it was lit
but it was dim

the room
where I first saw

that petite
drummer boy hit

stretched skin
as penance I guess

he asked me
if I’d mail a letter

I asked him
where it was going

decide after
reading he told me

all it said was
isolation is torture

I chose to send
it to my son’s mother

but before I did
I hung it in my bedroom

and I pretended
as if it was in her mailbox

sometimes it’s best
to keep things to yourself

The Broth

You can’t
burn me
anymore.

[not in 2023,
nor in 2024]

You can’t
burn me
anymore

[not in clouds,
nor on floors]

You can’t
burn me
anymore.

The Brown Cheese

she only knows one way
to live and to laugh and
to love and to learn and
the most patient man
I’ve probably ever met
is fortunately the one to
try to tame her as best
as he possibly can but
at the same time what
the fuck why shouldn’t
she just be the person
she is meant to be like
seriously let her grow
into the mold and be
and become the smell
of the century because
that’s what we all should
aspire towards and I’m
sure I’m really sure that
is exactly what she does

The Cat's Whispers

"Can you hear what I see?"

That's what the stuffed pet
at the corner bar imported
from the Midwest asks me.

Just how frightened are you by
the unified, uniform simulacrum
exhibited by this movie-set city?

"I cannot see what you hear."

That's what the stuffed pet
at the corner bar imported
from the Midwest tells me.

Just because you can be
doesn't mean you think;
please try harder, friends.

The Economist (2023)

I have a friend who is “in government” — whatever that means, and I don’t really care about that; what I care about is the fact that he only reaches out to me on his own terms, when it’s most convenient for for him, as if his life is somehow more important than mine (or any of these/those people we symbiotically have nurtured together); all of these people reciprocate and have continue to do so, and that is the detail of all details not to forget. So it’s like…dude, don’t forget that, and don’t forget me or her or her; I’m clearly specifically talking about me and my boy and our gal pals. You know what? I’ve recently taken a dozen or so corporate seminars, and the main takeaway is that it’s maybe best to just be as clear and direct and honest as possible. Then again, you might get fired. Whatever, though — just do whatever you feel like is right; I guess?

The Deans of Life

some people are just special
and they make you feel like
you could be or do better
not that they are better
than you but just that
I guess they are open
to life and its mercurial
ways more than you are
and maybe that is worth
exploring from every angle
for as long as you can manage

The Faces of Fascist Fashion

While some folks choose to place beepers or guns on their belt buckles and drag you in person or online after arguing about the alleged accuracy of pronouns, we prefer to debate the details of the Cretaceous Period, which national intelligence agency is the shadiest, and who we’d prefer on our favorite NBA teams: Alex Caruso or Austin Reaves.

The Gaping Hole of America

It gets bigger and bigger every day of every week of every month of every year of every decade of every century. And you never know when the bowels of congress and culture are going to empty out and more unexpected, unprecedented diarrhea might spray out all over your life. It could happen at any moment: while you’re trying to buy (finger-crossed fresh) produce from the Trader Joe’s because you can’t afford the sure-thing good stuff from take your pick. Or maybe while you’re trying to catch up on the latest HBO hit series after falling weeks behind. Or perhaps while you’re just trying to get a good wank before bed. Next thing you know, your blood is not clotting quickly enough or your cat is refusing to eat or you find out that your wife of two decades is fucking a hot construction worker or something. And if it’s not that specifically personal, well, every moment still has the potential to be profoundly dark and depressing on so many levels, surrounding you or impacting the person in front of or behind you at the grocery store or the person in front of or behind the camera on the TV program you’re watching, for example. And the doctor giving you the bad news or the construction worker fucking your wife both probably have their own shit they’re currently dealing with, so I guess I just always try to remind myself that life sucks for everyone; it just sucks more for some than others.

The Governor of Pearl Mountain

her brain is bold and her head is hard
her neck is as wide as a water bottle
her shoulders are as broad as a boy’s
her breasts are in Witness Protection
her wrists twist as she speaks Latin
her waist is flatter than all of Kansas
her ass is crowned with pagan mounds
her legs are defined like a dictionary
her feet float as she caresses carpets

The Itch

you know it’s real
you know it’s bad

you gotta scratch
you gotta appeal

The Jester

egg yolk is dripping down my face and into the toilet and the toddler sits stands pisses and shits and other adults stop and stare because where else would they go and what else would they do if they don’t have a kid too so the leaving and the dealing is of course all on you just as it ever was just as it ought to be just as it ever will be party’s over

The Love of the Lonely

I have a tendency to tell those I love most how much I really do love them; I try to articulate my feelings in myriad ways so that the authenticity and consistency and validity can never be questioned, but sometimes I fear that I’m just annoying and come across as a drunk or a sap, even though I don’t drink all that much, nor am I overly sentimental — then again, I guess that (and everything else) is relative, right?

The Modern Globe

Listen: Follow your love
wherever it might go.

If you give yourself
permission to be free,
perhaps you’ll learn
to show what you know.

You can graciously give;
you can maintain humility.

Don’t worry about people;
I mean, the judgment of
the individual or the group
(applause is mostly a farce).

The world is essentially
a large community theater.

The Occurrence of Events That Happen at the Same Time by Accident but Seem to Have Some Connection

I’ve had two therapists in my lifetime,
and both of their names are Jessica.

What is a coincidence, anyway? Like,
not the definition, but what do we
determine to be one, and I guess,
how do we make that determination?

Therapists look for patterns, right?

I wonder what they think about chance
and fate and destiny and these sorts
of things; I mean, I suppose I could ask
Jessica #1 or Jessica #2, couldn’t I?

I’ve had too many ups and downs
for someone who isn’t even 40 yet.

The Philosophy of My Jazz June

I have one wish for the fuck-all
cave-dwelling children of Earth:
leave me and my people alone.

Civility should not be an option
in civilian settings, like schools
or parks or farmers’ markets —
it should be a requirement, of
course, and if courses need to
be requirements, as well, well
then, so be it; nothings is easy
and then, suddenly, what once
seemed hard goes limp in your
hands and in your mind — pay
attention to your body and note
how you feel on all three levels;
compare and contrast with what
and where you’ve been in the past.

Back to the basics of bullshit now,
if those of you who care don’t care:
if you want to live, let others live.

The Poem That Wasn't

I had an idea,
and then I didn't;
it came back to me,
but I couldn't find
my phone or a pen
or anything to write
with or on; and so
I guess I'll just
get back in bed
and feel sorry
for myself again.

The Rose Wilts Before Me

There it goes,
there it grows

&

I’m ay yi yi;
you’re mine,
mine, mine

&

the black heart
enters the red.

The Sensation of Punctuation

The spaces between the seams
of letters and words can be
more than what you think
they can be and hear and see.

The Spirit Is Gone

Every time I’m at a bar and a DJ plays “Disorder,” I end up dancing with a beautiful woman and kissing her by the end of the night. Sadly, I don’t go to bars very often anymore and most people younger than me have never heard of Joy Division. I guess I’ll have to find a hobby that I sort of resent.

The Troubadour

I wish I could play piano so
that I could write the most
beautiful ballads to charm
the pants off beautiful babes
and when I felt like being
fully clothed maybe I could
pound on keys until strangers
shed tears with me because
we all know that when we’re
not fucking we’re fucked.

The Tunic Wars

I was at a Westfield recently, and I saw some older white women arguing about some trivial bit of shit that clearly doesn’t matter; a security guard showed up and politely asked them to either leave each other, or to leave the mall, altogether.

A few weeks later, I visited the same mall and I saw a young black woman exit Macy’s; shortly thereafter, security showed up and asked to see what was in her bag.

The rest of the world hates America because we drone-strike the piss out of cities and choose which governments we support, seemingly at random, murdering civilians without remorse. I hate America for those reasons, too, but also because of the glass ceiling, the class ceiling, and the scum that stews beneath the floors, everywhere from Alabama to Alaska.

The USA Is a Monster

A mermaid cracked
open her skull tonight
and nobody noticed
other than me, but like,
what could I do about it?

Her blood was pink, and
it poured from one corner
to the other of my kitchen
floor; my dog tried to lick it
up while I tried to sew her up.

It’s been a sad day to cap off
a long week of hard work and
little to no sleep; in this country,
it sometimes feels like the less
you do, the more you get paid.

I moved to the mountains about
three months ago, and it’s been
mostly a pleasure, but there are
times like these when I just miss
soaking my feet at the oily beach.

Thin Blue Line, Short Red Light

The thing about cops is,
well, they’re all bastards.

I realize that some people really
don’t like this semi-ubiquitous
phrase they see spray-painted
on the sides of gas stations and
other places that should shutter,
but I urge those folks to try to
make a compelling and convincing
argument as to why they are not.

Tonight, I met a po' boy who, under
other circumstances, in another
life, in another profession, he might
just be something approximating
decent; like, you know, if he owned
a pizza place in Iowa City, I’d maybe
enjoy making small talk with him
after the big game or whatever.

But the thing about cops is,
they’re all bastards; no, really.

This Poem Could Have a Similar Title to One of the Best Video Art Pieces I’ve Ever Seen

You know, you can’t ever know how comfortable to get with someone, no matter how close you think you two are; that seems ridiculous, right? Well, it is, but so are people — we were born to disappoint and be disappointed. Just get over it, and get over yourself
while you’re at it. Goodnight and goodbye.

This Shit (Again)?

Someone put fruit in my beer,
so I have to ask someone else,
“Why are we even here?” At this
point, do you know? You don’t,
and that’s okay; when the drinks
are this tart and the bar smells
like rotten farts, it’s clearly time
to say goodbye to whatever idea
you had of tonight; okay, guys?

Tick-Licker

In an open-carry world,
I just want to learn how
to love myself better
and to hold and be held.

Time Comes & Time Goes

Do you ever miss the days when every movie theater was neon as fuck and you still felt like holding hands in public and shame was some foreign concept that you heard older people talk about from afar like maybe across the way at your local diner chain that sold black-and-white cookies that gentiles could never possibly fully understand or appreciate or maybe your experience was at a bus stop when you still couldn’t afford to barely afford to pay for gas and gas was actually affordable? I miss those days but sadly I forget those days and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be as happy as I was when I would watch the best girl I’ve ever known eat disco fries on random nights in New Jersey until midnight. If only I could hop in an old white Dodge Caravan and melt like a marshmallow.

Time: Luck Runs Out

I never try to forget
my punctuation, but
sometimes even the
best writers slip up
now and then, and
if I could only learn
to remember her
when an update
is truly necessary,
I'd be happier than
I was when I was
30 and still semi-new
to this simulated city.

Tinctured Verve

One, two-step
the dead drop
until you can
no longer walk.

Be grateful you
don’t have to
live this life if
you don’t want.

Be great for as
long as you must,
though, because
why the fuck not?

Wait, did someone
say they were going
to get beer to wash
down the hash pills?

Tipsy Cowboy

Push all the buttons
on both of my feet;
scrape my bone spurs
and dump them in
the ceramic mortar
your mother bought
you and make a paste
with the smooth pestle.

You didn't want me
to talk, so why should
I bother trying to walk?

I'll go horizontal for
now, since I don't know
how to stay straight up.

I've got some kind of
hunch that I'll be back
bending over myself.

I've never been able
to escape my pain, but
at least I have a cane.

My operating system can
no longer run, it's difficult
for me to walk; I'm okay
with, like, a lifelong struggle
with a forlorn shuffle, I guess,
mostly because I have to be.

To Be or Not to Be (I’m a Sharer)

Hi Wilson! I am here to serve you; just kidding — I’m not that lonely…not yet, anyway. Hey, let’s go sit up on the terrace and stare out into the distance, like buttoned-up painters in the Hudson Valley. But you might ask, “When’s the last time you actually made a painting?” And that would be a totally fair question. And you might say, “But you live in the Foothills of Los Angeles.” And that would be an obvious observation. I am and always have been a poet, and it doesn’t matter where I am at any moment, but at this particular moment, I feel like a big rig driver coming down the California State Route 2 about to have a heart attack from looking at the majesty of Old Mexico. Or maybe it’s something else causing me to feel this way? How can I possibly know? It can be so tough to learn how to trust. I don’t like to hold grudges, but I do like to prove points. Sometimes I just want to relax, but I’m currently in real-world purgatory — too old to have fun, too young to give up. But maybe I’m at the age where I can finally let go of typos?

Tonight, Tonight

I received an unexpected phone call from a coworker that unexpectedly lasted three hours long. While we were chatting, I was walking my dog; as we got closer to my home, I spotted a pack of emaciated coyotes. We ran to the well-lit main street and then we stumbled into the corner store; I bought a Gatorade Zero: Lime Cucumber. I was feeling stressed and anxious, so I decided to drive to Planet Fitness. After my workout, my car refused to start in the parking lot. Ironically, I had parked right in front of the AutoZone next door, but it was now after hours. The AAA technician who came to the scene told me that the AAA technician who had sold and installed the battery to me two years ago gave me a model that is incompatible with my car; he suggested I go to my mechanic in the morning. On my drive home, I listened to Smashing Pumpkins and by the time I got on Foothill Boulevard, I felt confused enough to try Jack in the Box for the first time. I bought some curly fries for me and a hamburger patty for my dog. When I got home, after he and I finished our snacks, we watched a few episodes of “Cheers” together in my bed.

Trapped in the oat blossom

I seek to escape the lure of
empty-calorie irony and the
antiquated nature of most
intellectuals; but honestly,
I find it kind of hard to be
charmed by most people
who are too afraid or too
proud to be themselves.

Trepidation / Trepanation

We worry so much about money,
and how we can afford the future,
that it’s nearly impossible for us
to enjoy most present moments.

Maybe the answer to anxiety,
the noose to hang neuroses,
is to just lose our minds, but
maybe I’ve already lost mine.

Tribute

I play songs
you play games
and we play each
other until we have
nothing left of ourselves.

Tujunga Winds

The olive trees
can’t stand up
but what’s the
point anyway
if nothing else
around them
is trying to
grow and they
sit within these
elevated cyclones?

Tumbling Fruit

I don't worry so much
about losing my guts.

I've bruised enough
bones to only feel
pain on the inside.

But when I spot a pear
in mid-air, I shed a tear.

Ulster Scene

My man, the genealogist, is a champ; he has been slapping leather and smashing peaches since before makes sense. But many of the best things in life are illogical. We just do the best we can with information and situations.

Under the Bodhi Tree I Go

I was told I am a natural Buddhist at heart. I don’t know if it’s true, but I’m certainly willing to give spirituality a start. Enlightenment can offer a new life and prevent self-harm.

Unitarian Universalist

I have one friend
who always forgets
that I’m a vegetarian.

I have another friend
who refuses to believe
that we’re not just flesh.

I want to be that friend
who remembers to accept
everyone else’s own reality
as a matter of fact, relatively.

I think I think that when we
embrace each version of life,
we might be better equipped
to figure out what is truly right.

Unmoored

No longer attached,
no longer confident,
no longer oneself…

Unrequited

Why do some people
have such a problem
with loving other folks?

And why do the rest
of us have a difficult
time understanding?

Up on Alpha Road

When I sat at the patio table
with little else but my regrets
and the thoughts that have
collected since I last gave
confession, my ankles felt
heavier than ever before,
and I didn’t have any desire
to light up the cigarette you
had put in front of my face;
honestly, all I wanted was you.

Upton Sinclair Lewis

“It can’t happen here in the jungle” would have been a great way to begin or end a novel, don’t you think?

Van Nuh-Uh

Aloha means goodbye
and hello; this I know.

A wise man once said,
“Bitches is lord.”

Where was I going, anyway?

The lights are dim
in this complex;
why does life have
to be so complicated?

I think I’ll thank Buddha
for my little best friend
and watch Gonzo vids
until next Christmas.

Vegetable Curry

I didn’t cook the rice
long enough
but no one seemed
to notice and
even if they did would
I care much?

Vices by the Dozen

It gets so sour—
the way that days
can taste when
you let old news
bubble and brew
and foam and spew;

some nights, when I
am by my side, it’s
easy to imagine a life
reading by an old
heater in a studio
apartment somewhere
in West Berlin, I guess.

What can I say? I don’t
have any desire to smile
in industrial alleyways
anymore — I’m old and
I’m cold, and I’m so tired
of being told what is what
and who is who; I mean,
aren’t you? But also, umm…

who are you? And what am I?

We’re just two pieces of
an aging pie — painting
is dead, punk is dead,
the only presidents
who matter are dead.

Capitalism is the worst
thing to enter our minds;
markets want to conquer,
markets want to divide.

It’s a hard reality, this virtual
existence, this balance between
insistence and persistence.

Virile / Vital

Most men
used to worry
about anyone else
other than
themselves
questioning
their masculinity
as if the opinions
of others were
worth more than
self-worth but
it’s like what is
being a man
anyway?

I guess plenty
of us still worry
but my anxiety
is bottled up
and boiled down
to or by things
way deeper
and darker
than testosterone.

It’s going
to be so rad
in the year 2040
when half
the population
is trans
or post-trans
or whatever term
is used to make
millennials
and those who
came before us
stop being
so fragile
and start loving
whatever is left
of this planet.

Vodka Sauce

Won’t you please come over
and cook carbs and drink
sadness and talk shit and
remember why we fell in love?

Wedding Soup

I never wanted to be Italian,
but I wanted to share
a lifetime of slurping
with the woman I wooed
with the buzz of my words.

She blew on the spicy broth
so hard and for so long
that the flavors subsided
and all that was left was
the salty residue along
the pock-marked perimeter
of the deep ceramic bowl.

I never wanted to be anything;
I mean, not exactly, not quite
specifically; but I wanted to
give and receive some form
of the love and harmony only
the high notes Mariah hits
can truly and fully convey.

Wee Boy

when I was
on a diet of
regret and
despair and
a desire to
forget I had
a torrential
figure taking
calls for me
like she was
my very own
smoothish
operator

Wet Dog Fart

the aging pup just stares up and begs for all of my love. you already have it, I say, but he only knows as much English as the lovely Thai woman who gives me full-body massages on the westside maybe once a month or so. two months ago, she told me that her boss is married, but that she told her that I’m her type. last week, she asked me if her boss could text me. now, as I scroll through this roll of digital nude pics, I can feel my dog staring at me again. as soon as I look over, I can smell him, too. we’re both getting so old, but he has a grey beard and I still get carded.

What’s a dumber lyric?

“Thunder only happens when it’s raining” or “my eyes are blind, but I can see”? For the record, I love both of those bands.

Whatever

In Los Angeles
most of the homes
you’d want to live in
are far away from
the place where you
might be when you
think you’d like to live
here for more than
an few years in total.

I miss how accessible
the look of New York
and New Jersey and
Philly and Pittsburgh
and Baltimore were
at least when I lived
in those places or
even visited them.

I remember how I was
so in love with a woman
I met out there and I also
remember how much
I loved taking the Fung
Wah and kissing this girl
who was Korean but
worked at a sushi bar and
wanted me to move there.

She said we could be
a couple or roommates
or whatever I wanted
us to be and I thought
it was silly not to be more
honest about what we
wanted from the other,
but I’m American so…

When Doves Die

I introduced my son to Prince on the drive home from school today. He was like, “I love this. Does he live in a castle?” I said, “He did.” Then he asked, “And now?” I was like, “Well, bud…he’s actually not alive anymore.” Then he was like, “So he’s free?”

White Houses (To Use or Consume Without Sharing)

The father of the lead singer of the Strokes “is remembered for his development of the supermodel,” according to Wikipedia. Goddamn, privilege is real. Both father and son kind of seem like assholes — but hey, those first two albums were pretty damn good, at least at the time, at least that I remember.

[pause]

Upon second thought, I just listened to them again; they’re fine.

Whiskey a No No

ripper shredder
thrasher hesher
gimme whatever
he’s having mate
is what she said
on our first date

Winning Bread

Nobody ever needs a whole loaf;
a croissant is more than enough.

Xanax

Nothing makes me feel
quite like how I want to
feel, but I guess this is
a close approximation.

Yes, Master

This guy told me
he was the guy
behind chemtrails.

Turns out, he just
received his MFA in
sculpture from Yale.