a view

from here

i see peace


i didn’t recognize it at first

mistook it for my own


feelings of joy

of calm

which themselves are wonderful

but no

they are not part of

the peace i see

from here


i am a temporal man

from here

from here

the peace is timeless

all its fragility and chaos

its perfection

its blemishes

are fluid

and cannot be packaged

it stands

so why

can i see this peace

from here?


from here

i find a new perspective

on perspective

i make out

distant reflections

in the hall of mirrors

the water of this peace

i feel my childhood crawl

out of the sea

i see

from here


from here

i see without light

the compelling current of time

tricking me into thinking

i could reduce this


to the size of my

breast pocket though i am in



don’t take me


from here.



the day seems more whole

unto itself, a friend



guilty of exhausting myself

with questions like,

‘what’s your name?’


‘why do i recognize that smell?’

because my new acquaintance

has promised to support me

in my exploration

and couldn’t care less

if i gave any new discovery its name


witnessing the invisible

wind composes music

to which the trees dance

and in

all the dynamic rhythms of our days

i shut everything out

to focus on the single leaf


it was not the first to jump from

familiar heights

nor will it last

or be

for long


have you ever smelled a piece of quartz?

that is the water of my new chapter

where the lack of strong sensation

is the substance of comfort

and reassurance


yes, i will pick up this soggy deer hide

and let it fill me with dreams of loss

and conquer

toes frozen, heart ablaze


somehow it is so clear

that everything here is contained

in its own void


i let it rain on my laptop

and with my feet firmly in the soil

i fly in dependable orbit around my

own history

and hear the prayer

that needs no recipient

alarm clock

radiation spewing

light from your phone at 5 am

frozen to the screen

while i wrestle with my sub-conscious

six rounds, one hour a piece

it’s a fight to the death

nightly, yeah i’m a survivor

i’ve conquered darth vader’s older brother

while running the nails of my backbone

down a chalk board

i’ve stabbed my father

more times

than i care to count

i’ve emptied a few prisons

in my day

all in a night’s work

but damn

they always fill back up

i’ve pleaded with the lord

ghastly, on high

don’t take my momma, please

you can have my step-sister though

i’ve searched for so many

god damn knee high socks

i couldn’t even tell

you how many soccer games i’ve

been late for

in my dreams

i’ve made love to humans

with shifting body parts, shapes

all taste different

but certainly must be the same person

love is just


no matter where i hide it

will always surprise the one it encounters

broken hearts are far more interesting

they don’t smile

but still look good for the camera

lay down under my back

and lick me until i tell you to stop

okay dog that’s enough

i’m trying to ignore my alarm clock

going for it

start early to avoid the heat

this work can be sickening but

i feel better having thrown up

so much paint


working in quadrants is more rewarding

on this page of the internet

than it is out there

with a ladder and a brush


at least that’s true in the short term

what a neo-technological declaration!

i don’t think of myself as a millenial

but apparently I really like instant gratification


by now we’ve been watching paint dry

for at least a month and a half

and in that time we’ve decided

we’re painting for others, not ourselves


this pig looks good in lipstick

maybe the floors don’t quite line up

but hey, we’ve turned this place from homely to home

and it was all for nothing


nothing except a few great years

maybe our last metropolitan ones

and some great practice erecting paradise

and working together, in other words, for everything


starting tonight we’ll try in earnest

to trade it for money so we can start all over

in a place that is much more noticably

rising out of the middle of the sea


seeking peace and quiet, light and soil,

a structure free of mold and saddness

and a small community at the far-left

of this incendiary country


i long for new ideas about using land

harnessing human and earth energy alike

the space to see myself clearly

and a forest for my kid to get lost in


we may be leaving our friends behind

saying farewell to our sense of place

but we are not going against the current

we’re going for it

words against words

Could this be how they felt

running wild-eyed I imagine with a passion

not one could label

a desire indescribable

a longing without adjectives?

I envy those early us’s

grounded in the chaos of a

new linguistic miracle

I wish I could read the world’s

shortest dictionary


The family tree,

even the most complex primate phylogeny

we can concoct

they’re all vertical diagrams

which suggests and antagonistic relationship

to gravity

In time all trees decay and die,

but it’s hard to deny

that the least permanent of its features

are the small twigs and greens.

Can we reconcile our branching out

with the forces of nature?


Falling leaves bring tears to some

and to others, joy

we are inversely connected to the reset button

by our attachment to fleeting life

and thus our denial of its bigger picture.


I see us playing, working, fighting

way out on a limb

as if we have no knowledge of its structural limit

and if we don’t get a break from our

addiction to outward expansion and progress

we will surely find ourselves scrambling


hanging in the air of ignorance

with no where to go

but down.

scrawled exponential



with the first conversation

and thus founded by the first words


between two or more

lesser great apes,

ending perhaps

as early as tomorrow

or twenty eight days later,


as cognitive culture

created the space for


and its misses


imagine how skilled at listening

were those early gossipers

taking no grunt for granted

not distracted by a thousand

names in their head

nor disillusioned by tropes

nor fooled by the belches

of a politician,

there was a message to experience

and with the right patience and


a deep understanding would unfold,

a miracle


sharing experience through noise

through full-body gestures

and an eye’s contact

soon we primates were a more powerful

collective soul than we could express

without violence

so we opted for that sort of thing

banding together

pretending that the strength of our connection

with an isolated group of hairless monkeys

was somehow more holy

than that with any other

and faction after faction

after fissure

after valley after peak

in the cultural cartography

of the wise-and-two-legged


scrawled exponential

on the map

of the universe

which we now ignore


insulated now


the reality of other’s

by this same

liberating capacity

which brought us connection

on a wholly-[un]holy level

we sure have come a long way

so far a way

from those fledgling conversations

we may have forever lost

the ability to use the


as the gift it

really is

stone panegyric

death wears so many costumes

but there is really only one homicide

and even that death surpasses legal definition

it is simply, intentionally, taking a life


since we’re still alive, and we never conspired to kill,

i cannot blame her nor myself for this death

we watched our collective life sicken, whither away

and die; we are not murderers


sure, we were always going to be prime suspects

in the eyes of those who prescribe criminal behavior

they’re automatically suspicious

of those who found the dead body


i’ve come to this plot to pay my respects

and to consider this question:

does anything, anyone, pass before its Time?

or is this simply a conciliatory cliche?


we’re so used to playing god, us humans

small wonder she and i longed to resuscitate

the terrifyingly pale corpse

of our once vibrant relationship


a eulogy for a romance seems silly

but this is a real death, the loss of

a tangible, unique life, whose magic

we will never know again


tragic though it seems by modern standards

i watch the Great Mystery carry on, with simply

a passing nod at this minuscule casualty,

quietly certain we will all Rest In Peace