Sound is rising slowly
Like the foot
Of a wayward giant
Slowly lumbering
Through the pass

From the freeway
Bull beasts on wheels
Roll with the fall
Down the hill
To come back up again

Sounding like warped
Helicopter blades
Distorted in wind
Flying far overhead
A jaw-wired hiss

Into the return
Of curve
Of a wide winding road
With drivers struggling
To stay awake at night

Fistortion of hands
Meatily feeling their
Way while the giant
Groans and breathes
A song of pavement

As if on wheels
A calm grinding noise
Of travel
Off in the distance

Echoing off
The valley walls
And reverberating
Down its hallway
Like a brook

Heavy footsteps
Of a giant
A towering form
In the skeptic-laced skies




I murdered my successor

Had his body, mind, and soul
In my prying hands

I threw him against
A pot-holed street

And as instructed
By future forces

And kicked

Mustering up every ounce
To look myself in the face

And enact mercy
In the name of destiny

With blood of ours
Spraying with white bone

What a walk of shame
It was walking up the hill

Back to his car
With the keys

Wearing his clothes
Wearing his birthmarks

With his dog tags
With his gauntlet

Fjord Passing

Fjord Passing

I could call it a heaven
Or a hell

Maybe it was even

Where sailing
On air

Paddlers went by
With oars in hand
And they were rowing



Leaving wake

As a microcosmic

To tell the tale
Of where each
Came from



‘Till death do us part

But the death of what?
What’s dead?

What’s the thing
On the butcher’s block,
Or in the
Pyre pit,

Or drowned in the ocean,
Waterlogged and bloated


Murdered and tied to
A cinder block
At the bottom of
A river

If it’s neither of us
Taking it’s place
In the grave

“As long as we both
Shall live”

Yet what are we?


Who’s to say
When divorce rates
Are climbing
Where a fault
In our promise is



Who made the urn
And was commissioned
To spin the pots?

Layers upon layers
Of wafer thin wires
Hiding in a body
Made of clay
In pottery

Are eviscerated
From the vessel
The shell

To be embalmed
In thick oils
That cascade
Like rich chocolate
Into the jars

When the brain
Is pulled out
And blood drained

They inset
The veins with fluids
Foreign to the body
Nondisposing the parts
Of the dead

Wrapped in bandages
Now from head to toe
Under tomb stones

So while they fill
The jars with organs
And herbs so that
The dead may be

Scent like death
Like pages of papyrus
Withering with wraps

Around every finger
And wrist laying lifeless
In the sarcophagus
Fraying with the pages
Like chipping paper-machè

Homewrecker Sleaze

Homewrecker Sleaze

I could tell you what it felt like
To want to be
The homewrecker

I could tell you of
The conflict in my mind
And the ferocious fire that burned

Over a dame to kill for
I didn’t mind knowing
She already had a lover

Didn’t mind showing
That right now I was
Here for her

In all those gross, private ways
I’ve felt before fantasizing
She’d grow weak to me

But she didn’t
And instead she texted
Her boyfriend

To tell him what she
Had just done with me
And to ask forgiveness

Which he did, adding
“Maybe you shouldn’t
Talk to him anymore,

It seems to be hurting him
To see you with me.”
Before she scowled at me

Like I wasn’t the one feeling
Held hostage or as if
I didn’t feel like an idiot

Because I did
But there was a feeling
Worth killing for

So the next morning
I sacrificed myself
And decided to give up

And I could tell you
For hours the things
I felt like screaming

“Why am I here?”
“Why would you let me…
Get so far?”

But I was silenced by
The voice in me that said
I shouldn’t be so selfish

When I saw the panic in her body
As she reached for the phone
After she pushed me away

From then on
I couldn’t find the voice
That said those things

The voice that told me
“Do no harm”
If I cared so much

When I realized that I wasn’t
“Making it right”
For the right reasons

So there it was at 4a.m.
I held myself hostage on the floor
With roulette at my head

Waiting to see
If I’d say something stupid
While she laid above in her bed

But I didn’t
I left the house
So far from home

And found a bike
That wasn’t mine
To do laps and think

To tire myself out
If even I could
To find that voice again

And I fell asleep on that floor
When I came back
Waking up to her asleep

6 in the morning
When I was meant to leave
She sat up

I didn’t feel like saying goodbye
Because the voice said
I shouldn’t

And as I ignored her on the bed
I opened her door
To see if I could disappear

“You were right.”
She stirred in bed and said
“I do feel something.”

With tears in her eyes
I wish from years away
That I’m still some happy memory

Because the stupid shit
I said and did didn’t make
Me feel high and mighty

I was in the silent carpool
With her dad who didn’t know
She and I had a history

I decided it’d be best
To let go as much
As I possibly could

He dropped me off at home
And I fumbled for my keys
At 7a.m.

Tired and dripping
With genuine sleaze
I crawled through the door

Making for my room
Tossing my things on my floor
And knocking off

With my shoes still on
Not caring about
The cold window open

I deserved it
I deserved the cracked eyes
And groggy face

I deserved the raggedness
In knowing I just tried to borrow
Her happiness



I hear it’s relaxing
Getting naked
And having a stranger
Massage you

And getting caked in mud
Or green exfoliants
While calm music
Quietly plays

But I wouldn’t know
I’ve only heard of the people
Who shed society for a moment
And walk nude in hallways

And it’s okay to them
While they’re there
But they still have to
Put on clothes to leave



Missing a place
I’ve never been,
I look at my wrist
To make sure
My watch still says
It’s 19:81

Sensing the tear
In this moment
We wear
While spotlights
Of all different colors
Move high
On slow motion

And the crowd is alive,
Breathing a wave
Every time someone
This time

And in
Next time
In 20:14

With the beat of
Some speakers
In a bloc party outdoors
We’re lost in a trance
Next time
Last time
This time

We’re here
And no one else is

It must mean
Something more
To share a purpose
In one moment
Than the fleeing
Sense of strangerhood

Which tensed air
Before this
Minute rolled around

It’s 19:81
And my ego is done

It’s the feeling
Of emotion
Swelling in my lungs
And clawing to gush out
As spontaneous tears

It’s numb air
My hot face
And cooling my

All the voices,
However strange,
Are the jazz
Of confidence

My teeth
Don’t chatter
So I know
I’m acclimated

I can’t focus
On myself

But the time
And the place
For whatever it means
Are crystal
Cold to me

In a second
In an ecosystem
Where nothing is needed

But to be inhaling
Light polluted
With the bloc

In 19:81.



Thick bubbles in the throat
Clog the voice,

Distorting and stretching
Music from our speakers,
On the skybridges,

The mountains distant
In pale burgundy dawn,
Sticking out like
Thumb tacks
From the world

To pin down and mark
The places we’ve been
And will go to

Some day.