along the way you lose a few.

I would like to believe my entire life is a struggle between worldly desires and the effort to make myself as empty and shallow as possible. Free from wanting to be.

animal spirits.

you love is like a dog
wandering the streets of Calcutta:
wild and untamed, and always hungry for more.

your love is the freshwater carp
in Lake Michigan -- an undesired visitor,
remorseless, strong, bull-headed
I cannot tell most days if I am the ill-fated
waters of Lake Ontario, suspended in anticipation
of attack,
or the shores of Mississippi
mournfully observing
your departure.

a suitcase of stones.

If I could make a necklace of your teeth,
I would wear it like diamonds,
like prizes of days spent
being made smaller & sharper,
like a photograph.
You wanted to be a photographer
and I only a lens,
an eye between Descartes & Newton,
never to succumb to Art History Laws.
Instead, I accepted the scars with piety
and devotion, like a bird
in the black garden of thorns.
Focus & shutter, precision & clarity:
virtues that lead to redemption.

how soon is now?

To change the world I would like to _________________________________
Wouldn't it be great if I could ______________________________________
Someone with purpose who I admire is ______________________________
I would have satisfaction in my life if I could ______________________________

white as diamonds.

some hearts are ghosts settling down in dark waters
just as silt grows heavy and drowns with the stones

shallow work is the work that I do.

Behind us, we left downfalls and sunsets.
All we need now is an unnoticed, invisible take-off.

I thought to myself, smoking a borrowed cigarette,
whatever happens, I'd only like to see the sun rise.

And so, go ahead,
jump on my back with a knife, from the trees --
it's wasted effort; even with a cut throat,
I will manage to see the sun rise.

We walked on the edge, then, so as not to slaughter them all, sleeping,
and suddenly I noticed, when they cleared the way:
a single, still green, unformed, yet responsive
sunflower
already turned its head
toward the east.

the numbers still add up.

List of great record titles c. 2009.

Bombay Bicycle Club // I Had the Blues But I Shook Them Loose
Damien Jurado // And Now That I'm in Your Shadow
Frightened Rabbit // The Midnight Organ Fight
Daddy A Go Go // Eat Every Bean and Pea on Your Plate
Lambchop // How I Quit Smoking
Badly Drawn Boy // Have You Fed the Fish?
Man Man // Rabit Habits
Cracker // Sunrise in the Land of Milk and Honey
Jason Lytle // Yours Truly, The Commuter
Paul Westerberg // PW & The Ghost Gloves Cat Wing Joy Boys
Major Lazer // Guns Don't Kill People... Lazers Do

the clock still runs clockwise.

Spinnin’ tops and weirdo magnets: a song for Buck 65


We didn’t want to be rapper thugs. We simply wanted to listen to records and cruise in an old ‘65 Buick (you know the science). Buck-y dun gun. We had no stellar moves, only some hand waves and steps jivin’ wit da musik in da livin’ room. Yo. Bring it back in style, said the poet who was not a poet. This isn’t rap and this isn’t musik. We went to no spoken word performances (what the hell is dat anywayz?) or concerts. We knew all the words by heart, even the math equations: Sum over shuffle sigma sign of sigma times open bracket A sigma one A sigma two A sigma n close bracket plus B one B two minus n equals zero. Can you imagine if people actually talked like dis? Jesus. We were no b-boys, sk8trs, jocks, emo punks, indie kids, cool dudes. We bought those records with our own money and wore holes into them. When we got older, the CDs remained. We remembered pieces of those text fabrics: “if they don’t begin to pedal, ‘cause when rain hits the metal, the parts that are wet’ll corrode if the drops settle.” We still knew da beats.