just a few would'vebeen beats ago ( Read more... )

my hair flies dissonantly ( Read more... )

There were poetry days ( Read more... )

my sunset is minutes away.
only minutes, and then,
the lord will paint the sky
like some santa fe landscape
without the cliche.

my sunset is reinvented
each time it happens.
i defy convention and custom
and bare myself to the earth
and all her glories.

creating is the home of humanity.
welcome.

a swarm of trees encloses me
an ocean of them
more trees than i have ever known
or even contemplated, really

on all sides their brown tendrils reach for me
beckoning me to come and commune with them
but i am not ready yet

careening calmly above the clouds
in an airplane of stifled purple

majestic lake erie to my left
like an upside-down sky

i am the most senseless eagle now
drinking the scene's unexpected loveliness,

and recalling the sky that day
when you bled in my stead

past the point of breathlessness ( Read more... )

juncture of the freeways
each brown road
connects to another one;
even more dreary than
the first

the scattered trees
on the roadside
brings little hope either

even the greenery looks brown
in this twilight

in this world of
transient beauty
there exists one boy
who looks high and low
for something,
something of meaning

I make my fingers
into a heart shape,
but it still doesn't
mean anything to me.

And every time
I hear your words again
in my obstinate skull,
I become a fish.

I flounder on the shore,
gasping for breath
with my now-useless gills.

Maybe it's time for evolution.

piles of papers
candy bar wrappers
laundry to fold
sheet music scattered
a few books
some thin dust
a guitar case
old bank statements
an unfinished poem
my favorite play,
the glass menagerie

all these fragments
and hundreds more
are, quite honestly,
indicatave of my
cluttered, disheveled life;
shambles around me

i clutch my
rosary more tightly