zebra

throat the moon
shine cherries outta Tenn.

breathe fire, like a Dragon
push from the south diaphragm

my chakra bent drunk on mountains
makes you sorta squiggle

legs kick up
makes it sorta hard to go

hug

say where the bed goes, my smoking
indoors, windows open
damn humid inside

sweatty, or the bodies that don't stay there
telling them to shift around,
lake

swim, the fish that don't travel
miniature sharks
livng in a puddle.

when i'm older i will drink less,
maybe i will be able
to walk.

never odd or even

saw these
half the way in water is sunk

how strong must i be
to break the moon,

or a butt
sticking out of it's pants.

will you tell me
that this isn't fucked up.

earth day

sing a funeral, in your brain
random is.

death in a god will make you.
fake money, or faker anything to agonize,

wish for them back
the shadows of comfort

or standing there naked
quiet

wait for everything to notice
you exist.

your dad dies too

nothing strange happens
just laying there naked in the lawn
where the dog burries its shit.
come to conclusions.
think how normal it might be
to never speak to him again.
maybe still love him.
not sure.
you write a poem about it.
you call it a poem for your father,
remind yourself when he told you
the dog was hit by a truck
because maybe
he thought you would hate him
for telling the truth.

for ACK

a beaten filthy golve
flexes best around a pop-fly
swinging branches
pointing them out to distance
these are the jokes
call the sun big sun
call a girl anything
holding cigarettes in our left hand
waiting for the next sizzle
not at all like love, Jack
unless you know where it comes
from.
and noses to water
the motion of moon waves.
why would you scream at me
pain vomit,
why is the death of us so important

salt

im sporting the smell of your breath
i lick my own neck
with my pants down to my ankles
my body
floats on water.

morning

remember the deaths of.
that is not
where the hurt is.

watch the coffee drip.
you
don't touch it, yet.

i'm calling you to leave
a message.
please don't call back.

take away the hands.
soft
is a weakness.

forget to lock the door.
someone
is home. that you don't know them
is what makes it.

april

trim my nails for me, the toes
i'm moving to get away from you
all to silence myself.
i told you the sun would expand
came out of nowhere, there was nothing
hanging heat in the sky,
not enough water in the ocean
to put out a star,
too much chaos banging
from beneath us.
i told you i wouldn't bake,
told you i would save someone.
but there are too many, too many
ways to save myself.
my love will hold me accountable for hate
or the violence inside of me
that i cannot show.
blasting drums beneath the face of earth
you do not have to hate me
to hate me.
my smile does not mean i am alive.

breakfast

feelings of top heavy-ness, i steal
the chill bending over for spring

and isn't it odd?

monotony of mortal feeling
it was my love, my love, burning

centered around your form
there is always a shadow there is always
the face side.

throw yourself at someone who shows no interest
isn't it odd?

the difference is what we don't remember.
difference in monotony
this is your brain on mortality
this is your brain
livin'

end of the world

ambling, river walk hey lady
does the angelic flutter into dark
and rainbow trout
hides the hook hooked under a roundish face
ray of light, oh god
the gays!
ambling lazy street walk
the weather makes you
talk, a life like tornado
i am the moon ripping the waves of pain in your metal jaws
i am a songbird singing
i am the wind and the wind and the wind blowing
storms of jupiter into your mouth
Woman
sideways eyes on a snake gargling hiss at the black spots on its face,
the inevitable swollen sun
you are the watered lawn
you are the grass growing
Woman fosil, sinner of freedom
pressing the green against me
moon never sways
the lonely endless midwest
surfing to galaxies.

autobiography

wants to be
brutal too,
hammerhead shark-like
where the eyes are at,
burried under ocean.


doesn't remember the great compromise
ing it, make the sounds
leap off a do, or i
movement brush
forget what is covered up.


brutally
wises you over
with the glance of unshaded eye
sockets,
owl turning neck of her.


expanding sun, roast
makes the conscious beat
of what we can live,
ing it,
again, and then some.