“You’re so soft spoken it’s hard to hear. Atleast for an old man like me.”

What a bad animal.

A child paces up and down the aisles to catche a glimpse of schoolyard friend after saying hello. 

You have nice music to listen to here in the schoolyard foggy and empty, crying alone.

Who knows how long it will last?

The human body moves erotically behind a glass like an animal without a name.

” I totally forgot what I was after.”

What is my name?

Cowboy in a red apron stands underneath a silo in the orange folds of a purple evening, watching his children run away…

Who soon learn pain in the heart comes from leaving home too early and watching the only people that ever cared for you grow old in your absence.

And the din of your childhood home is depressing and no longer warm.

The Earth is eating the worms.


Market in North America

“No, it’s the same.”

“You’re alright Greg.”

“You made a good choice.”

Freckled mothers, freckled daughters of old Jerusalem,

Poised to rule the world somewhere… 

“How was your day? Would you like a bag?”

With Amtrak card folded dirty in wallet of old man wine section in America, 

Whose brother is a vegan,

Whose parents are on a diet,

House empty…

“You have a good one, sir.”

All clear!

To the angel who could defend herself well from present danger, 

Balancing oranges on your head,

Poised to take over the world.

From Klamath and back again

Flickering freezer lights drive deli Zachary insane after the trash,

The cashier drawer slams closed.

And so, last two hours left of Thursday start by — two people ready for home left.

Thank you, for the beer

For the ice cream.

Who are those lonely children?

Wearing adidas, clean

Huddled beside the onions in black, 

Watching the German with glasses; hands in his pockets towards the wine?

Day before Mother’s Day 

A birthday for a lover somewhere alone along the Rhine,

Have a great evening. With dark hair.

Before I took a wretch to bed with me,

She taught me how to starve for attention.

Strong Mexican mothers returning outdated milk,

Calm voice of family understanding.

“I’ll be bringing in the plants if you need me.”

If you need me –

I’ll be running away.

From winter snow and shoveled driveways, caved-in rooves.

Running away from You,

Vacuuming up her shredded mail and love letters obscene.

For all those who sit far away from Mama on Sunday,

Paying ten dollars for flower bouquet – for Sunday,

Two tulips for my mother.

Fists Full of Sand: Excerpts from an Officer’s Diary

Entry 12

Announced my departure, skateboarding, and stupidly littered and so I will. I went from Walden and once on the other side the stone before her old Indian eyes. But now, kitchen and rubbing on my leg now, Amphibian Man succumbing to a bum exclaims, “My mom was with me running down the edge!” Saw him twice more on our journey effect subject to confusion – unrealized angels circling in every room testing – now the steepest faces window wood and an owl burrowed itself. A girl in red stripes cries. Prevailed since before the creation. City can wash away the grime as boots and belts, ghostly bodies full of ambition. Events to take place 25th District has it’s perks, going home seeing Self-Storage. At home burns the sage. We bought a shaker for Holly. Coughs of a stranger, their steps leave. Am I in a Third World country? I am alien? I do not own. White horses roaming the town the morning. The sun is wise or, a bit clueless, nearly magical process to watch. Dark clouds rolling in off the Pacific secret’s out. Our world’s ecosystem make for him a tomb of sculpture. The secret was being shared yet surrounded by the shadows of looming in the rafters on still, purple black, bloody eyes. How amazing on necessity like “Like I must do 1911 – Je ne sais quoi dear?” The values of Thanksgiving? The street showed him a bit of turn, to tomorrow’s bane, to commit robbery on three darkness popping cloud balloons in a moment to float on those sweet changing leaves – a few. Shah and Ho Chi Minh on revolution. Peace a substitute for war. Of their rider, abode of the fat white wood and please, these things will be trash south without tears. Turkish stronghold cities lead to throughways where seas the master and commander NATO, South East Asia Program and you build your family tree from my buccal drain – eyes. Samuel Liang, To Althea from Prison. Matthew 6:3, Isaiah 41:25, Isaiah 64:8. Felicia Hemans, Iliad, Odyssey, Alexander, Plutarch, Zebulon, Sephronia. Federick Schiller, Niccolo Paganini. BidbpeI Myrmidons Agamemnon Mungo Park, Lewis & Clark. The familiar face which her she slowly sows everywhere and to people with… In this country where we feel we (or are we?) subject to the neurosis. I have beaten many sharks off the Magnolia stellata, fan leaves. Praunus serrulata, Cornelian Cherry, Magnolia grand flora. The man driving handed me a pack of fall and a giant cool, deep, pool.