im counting on the ability to know
more than you do
somehow always.

when i asked my mother why kids were sniffing glue
she said
it helped curve hunger.

i was seven at the time
and can understand why any mother would leave out
that sniffing super glue
can get you high

because hunger is a decease of society
of all of us
none of us feel the guilt

a junkie has all the pity and repulsion they deserve.


im going to tell you
you will be visited by either the Lamb
or the Beast
but as usual,
only i will attend here.
like the moon who invented rhythm
i’m now a servant to civilization
who uninvited it.
theres been an ebb against potential here
a halt in scrutiny
a tsk tsk to routine
there is such thing as too much of a good thing
just ask the desert man drowned in the ocean
not too many sunsets  have been seen from that angle
there are words in here you may not reach
months that escaped
like scrutiny
that last beer in an alcoholic’s six pack
they’re not for you
those secrets are not for you
those months are not for you
so when you hold me next time,
watch for the tide of my breath
soft like my skin on your warmth
picture me small
mouse-sweet and drip-dripping tender
but know and wonder
there are secrets in there
some we will not mention
even to the loudest of roars

tell me again now,
how gentle.


it feels bitter when it should feel sweet
it feels ragged when it should feel smooth,
it feels deep purple when it should feel pink
these smells should only
bring back memories of stay and release
not damp apartments in cities
where our mothers cried
where we cried ourselves awake
many days tugging your tail too far
off your fruitful grounds
so who was wolf
and who was fox?
now you see me scurry back in who’s little borough
i still think of you.


in traveling, a companion
in life, compassion
consider how compassion might feels about it
abandoned in any travels.

yesterday my feet still burn
stings in my legs
pain by some thighs
you’re expanding.
you’ve gotten,
bigger in life
perhaps too much – too light on your feet
no more.

pretty spider populated
would call it
cramps or twitches
sighs of something too heavy to lift
waters where I can see my feet
and freeze my lungs
all in the same breath
this is beautiful
and necessary
maybe elemental

regarding attention
too detailed to really be sown into some prism
you’ve decided to call it evil
by the beard on it’s snout
i’ve told you “yes” but only in the lightness of interpretation
fate, definition and discipline call it the law
i’m in-prisoned by a push for balance
shackled by guilt

ive sent a man to trial
for sequestering an idea of me
walled in by his thoughts
words that follow you home
crawl into your belly at night
dig out past nightmares
and leave you sighing with defeat
if i could show you my shame-wounds
you would think twice
before you spit heavy desires
on my shirt.
this is not just about you.