Tumbleweeds jutted with sandspurs

navigate the dry grooves of my mind

probing for dead thoughts and fossilized behaviors.

They prick the dormant ambition, dried and petrified 

by sands of time stretching through dunes of eternity.

This wasteland of regret breaks my spirit, 

and I am no longer whole. I'm half a man 

under the weight of ideologies caked between

my eyes and ...

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There’s a small light on my sofa

from the backdoor window,

reminds me of the drive

I have left to live.

But drive is something we do;

not something that lives.

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There lies the body of one I loved,

weathering the dust of the meaninglessness.

And I do not mourn the face

or the body. I miss

the way she rolled her eyes

when I shamelessly lost an argument;

or her crescendo of anger

at my mistakes. I was not good enough

for her outrage. But her happiness

filled me with such abandoned joy.

And I will die regretting myself.

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Testosterone

Abs

Arms

Legs

Hair

Dick

Wallet

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Blue green yellow and red

but I’m not sure I’m ready to die.

I’ve thought about the edge 

of the razor in my desk 

rusted, unshined. 

And I drink too much

and I smoke marijuana;

and I’ve done wrong and lied;

how fitting that I should die.

But tonight after too many beers

and too much wine,

I’ll go to bed alive

to wake up wishing I were dead

still on...

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Memory curses us, like the slow moon whispering a tempest’s spurn;

except now, we are the ocean, and you are gravity, softly there.

Don’t go so soon my moon.  There are things left to say to tide you over.

To and fro, we are awash, wavering with a wanderer’s wrecked yearn,

yielding yet yanked from you.  Beating the heart out of grief, we cuss the fair

memories that curse us, li...

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Are never forgiven,

which is why “Jesus Christ” as

you and I might understand him

was invented. His immaculacy 

is not holy. You and I can do that

too. We don’t need religion. But

we choose to associate that philosophy with an idealized

god. Stop fooling yourselves

to fill yourselves with a sense

of the meaning of life. God did

not make us in his image, 

we did.

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One wills

into the American experience

a narrative that we probably

won’t agree with.

My Granddaddy fell asleep

in a patio chair. I was playing

with crickets and cicada husks

by the Oak tree. When I tried

to wake him, he didn’t stir. 

I thought he was dead. 

The mind of a child wills 

into the American experience

a narrative that reality probably

wo...

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ceiling fans thwop 

I first taste lemon lime

salt then take a swig. 
 

the refrigerated air unit is shot

again, leaving me sweltering in nothing.

the guy said he'd come tomorrow

and clean the coils.

I turn 35 tomorrow. the world doesn't know.

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They don’t know pain. 

Money can’t buy happiness,

but it will buy easy clemency 

and a cushy life. 

Their lives are the ones

that shouldn’t matter.

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She slammed his head 

at the protruding corner of the wall. 

He let her. 

He didn’t resist. 

He knew he deserved it.

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Hearing the rain patter 

against the wet road 

and walkways 

as I work on school 

is food for the soul. 

The hatch turkey chili emulsifying 

and filling the house 

with a dancing aroma 

of chiles and spices 

pierces me with sharp nostalgia. 

We are children in memory 

parked at the seat of time.

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there must be something significant about a dirty bedroom that smells nice

people say to manifest 

your dreams with the map

of a poster board and magazine 

clippings of houses and things

like cliche quotes and shit

i dream of the number of ways

to kill myself

my grandfather killed himself a week ago on a thursday

maybe they’ll say

if he had a dream...

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I listen as she blinks her eyes

chirping as crickets do when they sing to the moon

and I can't help but to smile. 

She reminds me of a grassy field dancing in the wind against the night,

and I just lay among her soft blades counting her lucky stars

where cherry blossoms escape and explode like fireworks.

This is love deep, and I can't stop myself from sinking in deeper.

I just...

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On the horizon, just there

Atop the willow tree,

Poetry gushes from the orange breast

Of a bluebird from the east.

And as his song sighs westward,

in the small grove below,

Songs of Missouri mosquitoes drone—

Pitching the night black 

To the tune of high strings.

Then woe comes that night

Until darling, fleeting lights

Illuminate the jetted sky

With tears of fir...

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Come day’s end, I am nothing but a pile of dirty clothes,

A nest of slough,

Molted skin.

And I crawl into my unmade bed

To slip into a dead slumber

From which I wish I wouldn’t wake,

But my dreams center around tiny hauntings,

whispering your name in a voice that sounds like all of my mistakes.

So, I stir awake and daze away the days.

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Their relationship had ended but they were cuffed together at the wrist and still did everything together. The boy had lost the key and the girl made him suffer for it. He had grown fat; she still looked the same. He watched her change, still remembered the last time they ever kissed. His heart broke everyday. Hers did not. One day he grew so tired of being arrested to the girl he decided to saw o...

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Shit stuff things cosas junk possessions materials effects gear materials equipment objects tackle kit luggage belongings trappings bits and pieces paraphernalia clutter clobber impedimenta goods and chattels nonsense rubbish rot trash bunk foolishness humbug twaddle tripe baloney verbiage claptrap malarkey bunkum poppycock balderdash pants bosh stuff and nonsense tommyrot bizzo bullswool pith mat...

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perpetual grief steers

t-boning his insides

wreckage leaves survivor

never the same

cynical about everything

once had eyes 

made for compassion

now endures loneliness

table for one

blue now grey

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