( Read more... )

Hello any of you who still have me on your friends list ( Read more... )

I caught white moths with my brother in the desert shrubbery near my first house in Dubai. White dust on our fingers. White dust in the jar ( Read more... )

I imagine, before anything, I must apologize for being so silent here for so long. Many of you may have forgotten about me. I have still be writing; most significantly, constructing a long poem that a particular dear girl in Seattle might turn into a chapbook. I have most of it down, but its still restless and continuously wanting to eat itself. I' ( Read more... )

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child with a crayon
asks how many legs
for the octopus

you say

as many that
makes it beautiful.

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My little friend in army surplus clothing walking through ( Read more... )

LSD ( Read more... )

maybe in the dim ( Read more... )

The sentence that runs, as if from death, exhausted and sweat-beaded, torn by blackberry thorns, bloody dust on its knees, each misspelling a shudder of breath, each comma a banana peel in a cartoon scene, how it gets up and continues through the canned laughter, ringing with all it has collected and let go of, as the old man pulling the great fish ( Read more... )

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it hurts in the chest where you hide it
where it mumbles and paces and fears
that you will be its only home.

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