Precise, with bluefrayed carpet at the edges

If I didn't know better
after looking at the tree
and the light as it glosses off the
faux wood finish
I'd think it's the 60's, back to haunt
from a time long past, aeronautics glamourous.

Future has crept in, though
besuitted man with headphones, staring
with a lover's gaze
into a slab of silicon and plastic.

Loose women drunk near the bar
flying to places
dreamed of
in boozehaze;

Fat man in the chair, that
held yet another man, of similiar
stature, nondescript -

While the loose woman in blue
declares to the Tongan
behind the bar
that she loves him.


cat treat


            fluff and plump the numbers full of hot-air lies
more protein in the pocket more slick sales overseas

like the cat knows anyways, or really gives a shit…
            it just wants the gravy after all
fucking loves the gravy after all
licks it from its chops seals the deal
The funny thing about the world I live in is that it seems so easy and consistent; I almost wish my house would start on fire or something just to mix things up a little bit.

Don't get me wrong; life is pretty bad ass at the moment. I'm just trying really hard to not take that for granted.

I've been traveling a lot. If, in the off chance, the lack of blog-postings has made one concerned... that's what I've been doing these days. Frequent travel is a funny state of being. I jump around so much and to so many different places that they all blend together, and I sometimes forget where I am. I get lost in the "fuzz" and start living in the box. My consciousness, my awareness of the vibrant life around me, the everyday magic around us all, begins to swirl down the drain and disappear like a big fat turd.

However, unlike when issuing forth the latter, there's not a lot of relief in losing that consciousness. It's a strange state of being.

At the same time, I don't mind the travel, either. Working from home, I get a lot of time to myself, which is both a blessing and a curse. After a few weeks of it, I start feeling the call of the road again. And I just plain like to visit new places - it's one thing i'm very passionate about. I do start to burn out after awhile, though, more emotionally than in any other away. I'm still energetic, to be sure: I could party like a mofo... if only I wanted to.

Since February, I've been back to Bismarck, North Dakota twice (I think), as well as Palm Springs, California, Idaho - both Boise and Idaho Falls, Las Vegas, Nevada, Zion National Park, Utah, and now, Columbia, South Carolina. But the fun don't stop! In May I return once again to Bismarck, only to follow things up later this summer by traveling to Phoenix and Salt Lake City each to see RUSH. (Mind you, I'm also seeing them in St. Paul in the fall... I just have to feed the monkey, man.)

I'm eternally thankful that I have the opportunity that I do, that allows me this much freedom and the ability to go places I might never see otherwise. It's just that, in these busy times, when it's so easy to take things for granted, it's so important that I don't - that I realize, every day, that the life i'm living is awesome, special, and could be taken away in an instant, like, by some gun-toting assmaster on a collegiate rampage, or a plane crash, or something equally bogus.

A lot of people, it seems, lose sight of how fragile our lives are... and I'm scared that someday I will too, as I get swept up in the hectic, meaningless trivialities of adulthood.

Alas, it's time I turn in.


with spring




are all the ways that don’t crystallize the
hour and the dull slate in front of
me –

in disappointed realization
words like those
are just too

for that child flame
once written off thought gone for good
but fortunately still…

      here… barely


northbound roosevelt


it’s chilly here under the stars in the wind
but the scent of you and the drunken night
blend ahead like points of light
like satellites ‘cross the sky
and in this evening, in the stars above
you are

and if the world should cease or just my days
all of it right now
in the most perfect
of ways, at your side
I’d go smiling


that last poem begs some explanation, perhaps, since it's slightly vague (the intent of it, mind you), but it seems to beg further commentary.

It's about my life, in general, over the past number of years. A general theme i've been touching on lately in my poems and myspace bloggings is this notion of age: i'm 25, but what the fuck is going on? I'm getting older by the day, but I don't feel like I've done anything to really better my own growth and evolution since going vegan, really. That was awhile ago. Now what? I worry that i've been on this slow decline for years but that i'm finally starting to realize it. The irony, of course, is that I always thought the past was shit, and the future was cool, but lately the future doesn't seem to hold a lot of promise. In fact, it's downright scary, and i'm not fond of the way things may turn out if i don't alter the course of things as they stand right now. (In other words, i need to get off my ass and change things, lest i just sit here and fester in the current state of affairs, as they have been for an awful long time.)

Alas, I ramble. Enjoy your Thirsty Thursday, reader, and keep it real and such.
long haul heavy and low, steep grade


all those dark nights
with stars snowed in, always the mirror was black;
pointed pins of light
towards or away swimming and winking beneath the ink
oh how bright my rearview is! oh how sharp and clear
I can see behind me now with brights blasting strong

oh how sharp
and clear the irony! of the dark road afore me
seen with the crystal eyes forsaken
of their
weary cataract foresight, finally and true (perhaps)
of that
I secretly
hope it’s anything but; maybe just
a truck in the dark)


father time, take this! bitch


when did Saturday night become this?

funny, but I can’t precisely recall
any party-night cocoonings, nor have I
stumbled upon the skins
of any last-weekeneds;
this molting, this metamorphosis
is nothing but a grand surprise, designed to catch me

Thank God
I still have my wits about me.
(false)quicksand / nothing is solid, or is it?


whatever can be
will be
like I’ve said every day
and like no other today; twenty-five but
still the same, feeling just the same
as eighteen, eight, one
and all the foggy useless days in between;
cutting through the hours
indestructibly, sleek

until I hit the wall and it all becomes
everything I thought it wasn’t


ubi amici, ibi opes


and as there is you, there is love.
one does
have to hand it to the Romans
now and again.