Monday, October 11, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Saturday, July 18, 2009
high
december, january, and all of
the ordinary horrors
sixteen year-old girl drowns her
newborn baby in the toilet
box full of maps
room full of nothing
tried to sustain my anger,
but i couldn’t
there were bills that
needed to be paid
small dogs crawling on their
bellies through shit & filth
potholed roads
you want to drive to the ocean
but can’t get past the hills
it’s a joke told by a man whose
eyes have been gouged out
you laugh with him
or you laugh at him
you find the body in a landfill
flowers push up through
the bones of forgotten saints
all of our darkest dreams
make perfect sense in the
bitter grey light of day
the ordinary horrors
sixteen year-old girl drowns her
newborn baby in the toilet
box full of maps
room full of nothing
tried to sustain my anger,
but i couldn’t
there were bills that
needed to be paid
small dogs crawling on their
bellies through shit & filth
potholed roads
you want to drive to the ocean
but can’t get past the hills
it’s a joke told by a man whose
eyes have been gouged out
you laugh with him
or you laugh at him
you find the body in a landfill
flowers push up through
the bones of forgotten saints
all of our darkest dreams
make perfect sense in the
bitter grey light of day
Monday, July 13, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Thursday, July 02, 2009
was kissed by ghosts, was weeping
find the ocean just inches
below the desert's surface &
then wait for rain
this is the kingdom of false prophets
these are the bones of old lovers
no one here
wants to be your friend,
but being an enemy has value
too
wars cannot be fought
without cowards
children cannot be raped
without the cold embrace of priests
what matters isn't the truth,
but how pretty the
lies can be made to sound
what matters is power
the shame of being poor is a gift
given freely by the rich
houses built by the hands of
beggars can only fall
you will stand naked in
the ruins of everything you've
never owned and wait like a dog
for the kindness of strangers
below the desert's surface &
then wait for rain
this is the kingdom of false prophets
these are the bones of old lovers
no one here
wants to be your friend,
but being an enemy has value
too
wars cannot be fought
without cowards
children cannot be raped
without the cold embrace of priests
what matters isn't the truth,
but how pretty the
lies can be made to sound
what matters is power
the shame of being poor is a gift
given freely by the rich
houses built by the hands of
beggars can only fall
you will stand naked in
the ruins of everything you've
never owned and wait like a dog
for the kindness of strangers
Saturday, June 27, 2009
sun & the moon
like death she said or
like dreaming,
and then she tore off the
baby’s wings
then she laughed
about what she’d done
like dreaming,
and then she tore off the
baby’s wings
then she laughed
about what she’d done
Saturday, June 13, 2009
SUNPOISON
new collection, an assortment of poems from 2004 - 2008. $15, can be ordered directly from me. 160 pp, no rhymes, profanity w/in acceptable parameters, soundtrack not yet available.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
one for the man wrapped in barbed wire
or the sudden and undeniable knowledge
that all you are is an asshole
the broken wings of birds
the bones of all the
children you’ve watched starve to death
such a huge fucking feast of misery
laid out for you to grow fat on
that all you are is an asshole
the broken wings of birds
the bones of all the
children you’ve watched starve to death
such a huge fucking feast of misery
laid out for you to grow fat on
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
holy days: an attempt at chiaroscuro
strange to end up lost in this
house i’ve called home for
fifteen years, and strange to
spend so much time considering
suicide on these bright
blue mornings
if you were here with me,
you would be beautiful and stoned
if we had children, they would
learn to live with disappointment
they would understand the
inevitability of being born in
a building on fire
house i’ve called home for
fifteen years, and strange to
spend so much time considering
suicide on these bright
blue mornings
if you were here with me,
you would be beautiful and stoned
if we had children, they would
learn to live with disappointment
they would understand the
inevitability of being born in
a building on fire
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Friday, May 08, 2009
servitude
It’s the age, yes, and it’s the war.
The naming of the enemy, the gift of
destruction, and this man I know, his
son, a soldier, a child, burned alive
inside his metal fortress, and so we
speak of revenge, we speak of God, of
victory, of the need to win this thing
that cannot be won, and the mother
cries in the boy’s room. The women
in the villages are raped and then
murdered. Are gutted, then left for
the dogs. What their flesh tastes like,
i’m told, is freedom.
The naming of the enemy, the gift of
destruction, and this man I know, his
son, a soldier, a child, burned alive
inside his metal fortress, and so we
speak of revenge, we speak of God, of
victory, of the need to win this thing
that cannot be won, and the mother
cries in the boy’s room. The women
in the villages are raped and then
murdered. Are gutted, then left for
the dogs. What their flesh tastes like,
i’m told, is freedom.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Friday, May 01, 2009
miro, dreaming
with thousands of birds
singing or screaming
fields of mud and snow
10,000,000 miles of road
between susan and maria and
one of them to love and one
of them to fuck
are you anywhere
that can be mapped?
have you been mouthing these
same words for too long now?
look
the plane goes down in flames
accusations are made
and victories declared
the churches
are set on fire
what this accomplishes
isn’t immediately clear
singing or screaming
fields of mud and snow
10,000,000 miles of road
between susan and maria and
one of them to love and one
of them to fuck
are you anywhere
that can be mapped?
have you been mouthing these
same words for too long now?
look
the plane goes down in flames
accusations are made
and victories declared
the churches
are set on fire
what this accomplishes
isn’t immediately clear
Sunday, April 26, 2009
MARK YOUR CALENDAR
a new e-chap, SMALL CHILDREN BLEEDING POOLS OF SUNLIGHT, will be available for one day on May 1st at Poetry Superhighway. get the skinny HERE
Friday, April 24, 2009
prophetstown, before and after
everything turned
suddenly to desert
the women raped and
the children missing
tenskwatawa
pulled from the fire
brings a vision
back with him
not the death of
everyone and everything
he loves, but this is
what happens anyway
this is the
birth of america
suddenly to desert
the women raped and
the children missing
tenskwatawa
pulled from the fire
brings a vision
back with him
not the death of
everyone and everything
he loves, but this is
what happens anyway
this is the
birth of america
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
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