The Beginning Din and the Subsequent Uproar

Goddamnit why is

distance a thing that exists

in such quantity?

One crumbling old building

says to another

crumbling old building,

“Let’s make this

fall to the first

floor really last.

Let’s make it

worthy of our

broken steel bones.”

I made these eggs

with good intentions

but even the best intentions

mistake sugar for salt

Short poem 17

In an alternate universe,
there are Disney Princesses
auditioning for roles as
19 year old subway buskers in Brooklyn.

Haiku 2

the dilemma of
all childhood nursery rhymes
long lost remembered

Haiku 1

hot on the skyline
in a chase scene of sorts, to
where the sun is at

Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski

wanted to live to

the year 2000

and be 80 years old

and fuck 18 year olds

like how he fucked

women in their thirties

in his fifties, he always

wanted to get closer

to youth when he

got closer to death,

and he died in 1994

when he was 73 years old

and he wasn’t fucking anyone.

Short Poem 12

I can always tell

you’re listening

with any varying

degree of elipses

when you open

your mouth to

not speak.

Short Poem 11

Like biking up a hill

and upon reaching the peak

feeling free

and falling

Short Poem 10

You get big and realize

how deep the river isn’t

and how deep the ocean is.

You get big and realize

how little you know about

being small, smaller than

you were when being big

was a big fucking deal.

A Fucking Poem About A Dumpster

Do not play

in, on or around

or occupy this container

for any purpose.

Containter must be placed

on hard, level surface.

Load uniformly.

Keep container on level ground

at all times and avoid tipping.

Do not fill with things

you cherish.  DO NOT

bring yourself to put

this container on a pedestal.

Do not write beautiful things

on this container.

Do not let this container symbolize

anything at all.

Do not let other people load this container.

Leave it be, but your blood,

let no birds free.

This container is not a cage.

Fuck The Wind.

I burn black smoke,

burn black the branches

and break them,

rust the fog,

leave a trail of broken

dreams.

Fuck the wind, it leaves

yesterday’s bad smells

in my clothes. 

Fuck the wind.

Walk To And Away

As I was walking

to where I wanted to be

the leaves were blowing

in front of me from behind

because my new north was

the way the wind was blowing

for the first time in my life,

my two winds were aligned

Dreamy Dreamers Dreaming Dreams

Dreams are all we get.

And even if someday they’re

Covered in that goo

we call regret, that

placenta of death,  know that

once they were your life;

the future, never

the past, something you can go

back to, and have, and

maybe will before

you’re dead, because dreams are all

we get, in life, and

all that we are left,

all we have to want without

exception, sometimes,

our only regret.

Short Poem 6

Look, you know how well

I don’t respond to pinches

on the arm, it’s not

St. Patrick’s Day and

don’t wake me, yet, don’t wake me

I’m just dreaming, dreaming.