Thursday, December 30, 2021


 the shirt--striped yellow & white 


          maybe it was purple & white 

made of wildflowers & whispers either way 

i stole it off from the closet of a boy who dreamed 

of great horned owls & srtatocasters  

pressed between expectation & applause 

the shirt 

it felt like a cloud in December 

cooling & expectant 


snow will come

Monday, November 22, 2021


what matters 

nothing is real real 

everything a dream dream 

dreams are real 

birds & branches 

wind & water 

this sun 

this age 

a dream that dreams of a bike, a movie theatre, my dad & you 

sometimes it rages 

sometimes it floats 

this sun 

this age 

this moon 

tuck the dream into the branch and await the bird 

-fucking music- 

moments tinged with golden difference 

we were real we were a dream 

sometimes raging 

sometimes floating 

a bike, a movie theatre, my dad & you 

unpack the dream
sort by color 
     the moments
     the age
     the evolution of self 


the sky changes
the dreams come 
the music plays 
not better without you 
just different
 - somehow - 

i am becoming the sun 
the wind 
the water 
the branch 
the bird 
the sky 

write it across the pink morning sky enough times and the story sounds like mine 


Friday, November 19, 2021

the spell of the full beaver moon

 whisper your secret upon my skin 

so i become feathered & eternal 

some long-legged crane watchful in a golden field 

transformation comes with pain 

corded & bound to earth 

your breath tattoos a silver oath 

smelling of earl grey & time 

what is this season? 

how shiny the scales as they creep & cover these aging bones 


only ghosts come her now 

only the feathered ones who can touch the moon 

Thursday, November 4, 2021

aconitum napellus

tucked along the crease between worlds
and sunrise sofa cushions
discarded in feather canyons & forgiveness
winds still as morning turns pink-gray
paused here on the cusp of snow
emptiness feels tight--boa constrictor tight
sorrow purple rolling up the tendrils & traces of time
tuberous nevermore to ponder the space between leaves & leaving
white-blue this day
this whatever 
my body ceramic-electric


Wednesday, November 3, 2021

to feel real

somewhere in the pocket between the branch & the bird

lies a velvet truth  


a knowledge a knot a night ringed with a burning smell 

of light & dark & winter's forecast

a hollow pressed upon moonlit grass 

autumn leaves carry the scent of pine-love 

lingering in dreams 


somewhere in the pocket between branch & bird 

Friday, October 22, 2021

lojong slogan #2

 to flatten the crease 

refold the life that held you up 

you are more than all your parts 


your parts 

hold the magic key that grants you 


waning gibbous

cooling moon

shuttered light-well to Oz 


driving  walking standing 

poised upon a ledge that has become too comfortable 

what is it 

this change of season? 

is it autumn? 

ding dong the witch is dead autumn 


it is more 

this otherworldly tincture of days 

this moonglow spell of night 

casting ancient dreams from yellow school buses & winged horses 

constellations shift shadows into suspended seconds 

lace underwear, football & fearlessness 

casting visions 

longing to be 10 .. ok ... maybe 15ish

lanky--full with secret words in my pockets

we make out in grass, on beds, on bikes, in rivers . .  because we can 

because we are 15ish


you can be sixteen with your tamed arrogance & mahogany bones 

the milky way & every nasturtium belong to us 

I know what you look like in mornings 

and can smell you on my skin

innocence seeds trust long fired in the bowels of mordor & mirth 

bodies lithe & limber twined naked--easy 

our tongues play cribbage against lips curious 

and sure 

sure of us 

paused on backs flat upon earth sumac-red-deep 




electric panes of glass slide 




the moon