it’s all I want right now


i want to fuck
just stick my fingers
inside you
find your special spot and blow
your mind
three times and more
over and over and over until you
shudder so strong
that the world fogs away
and you drift to sleep
with a fire-cloaked smile




funny how lately on every approach
all that surrounds me
seems a perfect buoyant decoy, splendid
and floaty on the surface but really just
dull and hollow and lead-heavy, like the sound
a body makes when tossed
from a country bridge
atop the earth
after everything goes so

after I shut
my eyes

after all this
in a puff of smoke and shaking frame
to the ground


too short it was


three wishes?
dare I say I’d only need
one, for in that
far-brief space
of my eyes lost in yours
the terrible frozen fact
was all I could face –
that, yes,
time was gone, it was not ours
and what I wouldn’t have done
to make it hold on strong
forever and steadfast




I woke out of the dream this afternoon
at a howl; the witchy sound of wind a-whistle
among what must have been
branches winter-barren and thin
it was that hole in me
gaping wide, again
letting through the stale south wind
that bore me north today


that strange interlude


i was
just a shell
and I could
be that, not then, and
because I am
a Goat, not
a creature of the sea


i am more than
the mollusk
she thought I
was, and if
you can’t understand
what a Goat is

(more than just a bicycling

then, ma’am, it’s your


i must have the true heart of an artist
for if I can bleed this fast and dream this deep
and feel these cannon-shot holes in my chest
but be lifted to the sun with the slightest south wind
i must really have it inside,
just cleverly disguised in the greatest of guise
with bites and bytes and sprites –
the things geeks dream of

but I doubt they can feel as I; strong, like
the smell of fresh dirt ground beneath a
traveler’s clouded and ambivalent steps;
they see the grains of sand while
in the dying light I see the forest old and stricken with decay
and oh how the bloated sky roils above it!

what I would give
to have that microscopic vision and stoic stance
against the rest of it all like those warriors for
the abstract;
but all I can see is the reality afore me,
the blackest ice

and all around me the tankers slide


FedEx truck, thank you for signaling that I am now finished.


I’m fond of the way it all melts
when I hear your voice and the way
my pulse can quicken at a breath;
the way your heart beats when I hold you tight
and all those things
leave me, as they do, swimming
in a mixture of ancient history
and shattering discovery that steals my speech
and leaves me longing for that chance
to meet your eyes again
and isn’t it amusing how
I would long for that chance
to steal a glance
but never dared to
take the chance?

I kept it all wrapped up tight and
right against the cold

but, oh how it’s clear and hot this afternoon here


try as I might


this reminds me of a lightning storm
almost two years ago that blew over
leaving me stuck on the sidewalk for hours; unlike
anything i’d seen
but before it held me, being naïve,
i felt why not capture it? such a thing must
be saved and what better way to
trap it than in a set of photographs?
with lightning so strong and energy so electric
i’d never miss a shot

only soon I discovered, upon the recovery
of my instrument in the dark
(a storm so strong
will render household power
that it’s batteries were dead –
o how i was saddened
by my opportunity lost!

alas in the hours after
as I watched that fearful and awesome display
I realized
things of this stature
are sacred
and the act of capture
might just do them
a bit of disservice
much as I hunger to describe them
i l ove the fact how sometimes i can sit down and just blast out random shit. sometimes it may still have a particular meaning behind it (as in the piece immediately after this) but might come across as awful vague and - sometimes - might deliver an unintended, incorrect message. while i fear this may be the case with said poem (the first two are completely fucking random), i feel bad going back and
t h i n g s
for it might
from the original tight, warm, protective and subtle sexual grasp
it has
on the original moment

alas. stay cool and have a cold one for me tonight, reader! or else.
sounds hawaiian doesn’t it?


come, pull over
exit with me
now – here it is! this
is where we leave and turn off
for everything
that could lie before
us out of
the channel of mainstay and
convention so drab we’d rather
sell ourselves

it may seem like Elgin or
Valley City, or
fucking saint tropez, dear, but
I guarantee
it’s anything but

this is heaven
for those that wish to see
is this, dear, our permutation?


only the natural woodsnap proper for this place
a crack in the air

hears that
from me!
only thing alive!

and in this tornado
like the squeal of swine within
I’m the only animal
awash in a frothy spit of trees
; fir needles

and the branches as they snap they do make a noise
; but
like a whip upon
a ship
to nowhere
straining at its bindings my back
ready to explode
everything so
like a powder-keg parched
the flint but it can’t
for I’m ready to explode

the only one?
sometimes, they write themselves


awash in a frothy spit of trees; fir needles
and in this tornado I’m the only animal
only thing alive
and the branches as they snap they do make a noise
like the squeal of swine within; but no-one
hears that
from me
only the natural woodsnap proper for this place
a crack in the air
like a whip upon my back
everything so
like a powder-keg
on a ship
to nowhere
straining at its bindings ready to explode, but it can’t
for I’m the only one here
who can wield the flint


god, my poems suck lately dude... i apologize. they just aren't flowing they way they used to, or something... i find myself second-guessing them more often than in the past. i really need to stop trying to write these in between coding and all the other stuff I find myself doing on a day-to-day basis, or something. or else get loaded before i write; that's always a blast! hehe

again, i apologize. bear with me; they should get better soon. :)
the glorious thing


linen winter air and a spotless fire sun
draw me swiftly to the east
where the great mountains lie
and caught far ahead in the shimmering noon
like energy kinetic
are the manifold reflections
on the watersurface
trapped within the glass
set upon my desk
as I write

and I’m one of those sparks
found within its mass
concealed underneath and dancing in a dash
hidden away in the blue strobes a-flash
as I cover endless ground to everywhere, and make my way
in the light
through the high passes cold and tight
to that far western night
that’s as close to me now

as the other


title’s not important


funny how on a dime things can change
yet always remained, never for a time
that you'd think was just a moment...

your eyes were always there
and funny how that veil can lift with such blinding speed
that I
the simple soul
am rendered stunned,
a mere deer
electrified and tingling in your headlights

and o! what a bash
before the hurricane crash
this time on the wet and winding road