Wednesday, September 29, 2010

The Thing

This is not the thing
That exists
Between grains of sand
Silently preventing
Their escape upward
Upward and far away
This is the wedge
The knife
Pressed slowly beside
The lock
For the inevitable twist
Then kick

Now, it is before you
Before you
On the table
Like a fat, untrained cat
With a taste for whiskey
Waiting to pounce on the eye
You’ll eventually
Roll across the floor

Its patience is numbing

Tuesday, July 6, 2010


In a place where sleep is more valuable
Than self respect, I sit up to wind thoughts
Around my forearm
Counting the loops
Each a little shorter than the previous

It is not long before I am lost
Distracted from where I am
So instead, I trace a heart
Over your left eyebrow
With a blue fingertip

Thursday, June 10, 2010


Too bound to accord the metaphor
Too taciturn to find other words
Too myopic to see our touching noses
Too addled to taste our own breath

Monday, May 10, 2010


Mildly past due for an adjustment
Partially concerned
All I need is a razorblade
And 5 minutes
To slice open the sun
Watch it run out like fresh eggs
The yolk falling upon the
Attached and the Dis-
When all is done, I shall sell raincoats
And skillets

Thursday, February 25, 2010


Sometimes I forget that the belt
Around my neck
Is reversible
A trick in black or tan
I must be
Too busy lunging ahead
For things
Not quite there
A dog with cataracts
Snapping at rain

A slow turn to the left should release me
Just tilt your head for good measure

Monday, February 15, 2010


The shake
The slight shake
Of my hand
Can be hidden
Folded up in an envelope
If need be
Or held at bay
By a wall of bricks
As fake as my smile
But these days
I more often forget
To notice
Even use my pockets
The simplest of things falling
The taste of plaster
In my mouth
Perhaps soon
I shall sit center
Facing all eyes
As I inflate
Paper boxes
To juggle
Behind my back

The twitch in my left eye
Is another matter

Friday, February 12, 2010

Cap'n - Part One

The Ray Bans you brought all the way from California spread the sun out in front of you like a knife. The Chicago snow appears to melt around your feet as the Wrigley Building itself bends over to suck you off. Let loose that bomber jacket “Top-Gun”. This is going to be one to remember. Let fate top it off with a heart attack or scurvy at the very least. I’m bored and a daydreamer. But of course, you already know that, Cap’n.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010


If only I were just three sheets
I might laugh at this wind
Might lay down next to this bus
And piss in the air
Nothing of concern or consequence
At least not on a Monday

Friday, January 22, 2010


I wrote these words to get paid
But it didn't pan out
I forgot to sell-out
Forgot to wear a suit to the meeting
I slept through

I spent this paper to build ships
But all I have are hats
I wear in the rain
As I wipe ink from my eyes
Plans like water

I held out my arms to embrace you
But I've been grasping trees
While you hide laughing
I'm getting a little closer though
Moving backwards in measured steps

Practice helps


6 Becomes five becomes 3 more days
12 and counting
With more over the horizon
A stampede of boredom

Drawn out thin as a reed
Time too
While I reach for my own tail

Just a twist and a lunge
Just a pathetic flick
For anything larger than a finger
A poor man's anchor
An excuse to get behind myself

I will self-actualize in my own
Good time
Thank you
Get used to your own cock in you
Dangling your shoes in the air

Turn your head and cough when your done
Just keep it off my shelf