Planting seeds in The bloodless scars

Strike it from your mind
Burn it out with cold

Fire keeps us safe from
The animals
Fire in the house
Makes warmth and smoke.

Suicidal hearth

Stop worshiping the paper
Stop burning down the house.

Equality is irrelevant in space
Paygrounds and jungles
Squirrels do not cock their barrels

Guns are the power
Raking the backs of the powerless

Planting seeds in
The bloodless scars

Wrapping meat with
Hats and gloves

We listen
we smile
We feed the ducks

They swim away
Bellies full of our old bread.
More beautiful
On the horizon

My paper shoes are ripped

We wasted so much time
Fearing the unknowable

Stare into the eyes
See what will take you places

Crave new voices
Face the monsters
responsible For all the good music.
Hang out in the backstage

My paper shoes
are ripped

Feel the mud
Between my toes

Pointless are
The straps on my pack

empty buildings
heated and lit all night.

Hurting people I don’t know

It takes days to recover
From your visits.

I wear neon
To avoid
Being hit by cars.

In nature
Nothing is equal

Whistling helps fill
The empty space

The trains that fuel the trains
A safe place to jump
A warm place near
The tracks

I stand by this raging river

I stand by this raging river
I happily kneel to her power

There is no boat
There is no bottle

Dip a toe
I’m a feather in a snow storm

I will be here
Before the flood
I will be here

Walking up and down
The stairs

Studying the rocks
Or not

I will watch the river flow

The last piece of the cookie

Sleeping next to someone
The last piece of the cookie

Un addressed letters
The well of pornography

Cold morning
Walking alone
Crows in the distance

Making yourself
Restrengthening old muscles

The first time
The open road
Gripping the pedals
There is no mercy



weaker and More magical

The Christmas lights
Finally took down

Posing for photographs
Post office penguins

The wrong sized bags for things
I love how you use them

a serial drama
Looking at my time here

Too long
We linger in coffee shoppes

Across the room
to each other

It’s right
How I know

weaker and
More magical

The color on paper

I don’t have to choose
The freedom comes

We listen to the sound.

We have freed ourselves
Of the soldiers
And the tattoo artists.

A path to flowers

Waking up in a tiger cage
Forgetting everyone’s name

Walks will get you places
An education takes place

A crime scene
A moment remembered
Buildings not there
Buildings there
A painting

In search of Perfect moments
Discovering Bad evidence
Walking alone

A path to flowers
Appear sometimes
on the road to burgers

The words pass through
The brush behind
The buildings
How do the filters hurt you
Telephones, appliances
Pick up the receiver
Look at the beautiful

Human signs


Things grow in the shadows

“Teens charged with murder”
The inevitable pace

Fire creeping around a log
Morning light trough
The basement window

Competitive worshiping
Judging the love

No mission

I am not your
nuts and berries

I cannot make new life

Things grow in the shadows
We can explore them

We can mold the darkness
Like mud in the bog

Strategery of cul de sac living

Neon prison
Pepsi, Doritos, Mountain Dew
Jack hammeringaway
at lids And doors

Strategery of cul de sac living

Ticking with the natives
Gripping the ledge

Small sores
On the backs of my hands

Oh to let go
And land safely
on a memory foam of
Free napkins

Swan dive into
An endless sea of
nippled bottles
And quarter pounder wrappers

Or we could be heroes

Smoke butts
on the loading dock
Shooting at fish
in a glass barrel

I hear gun shots in the distance
I read gun shots in the newspaper
I see gun shots on the TV

But there is tolerance
And love
all around
The free air

Dead wood redundant

To say a dead corpse
would be redundant

But Wood can some
how Still be alive

We fire up the human fat
For our catapults
It’s not a Mongol thing
It’s a human thing

An education in
Self soothing

Time to stretch things out
Read the skin and entrails
Consult the eight ball
Plot our next move

A larger cup is not the solution
To our cup a day ration

Bless me father
My hair has thinned

We learn to Speak
softly to a dying wind

Especially in wintertime
an especially Special

Dead wood redundant

Arguments survive
For generations

Empty boxes
Old milk
Long past it’s use

A heart is just a wheel
stuck in dried mud

a simple revolution
Is all that’s needed