surely this one won't smell

or if it does,
let it smell
like citrus
detergent,
in order
to best
deter
all my
body's
doubts
and
deliciously
evil
twists

a constellation of ghosts

what suffers most,
mostly a gas, a walled-
off kingdom of fast
casual dining, our steam-
y chamber un-
marbled, well-
maintained, hot.

press on
ye florid organs
of delirium, sweat o-
h fluid skin.. wear-
in me thin.
wearing me out
thin.

what's become of it
who's been le-
t in
sunken motes
of sparkling rashes
& freckles on pristine
slopes of snow

$3,000 poem

Fork it over!
Fuck-up shot
down shells
in way
over our
heads.
Lest you
ought
to implicate
some other
intricate
vessel of
porcelain.
What!? Pay
the debts
of your
attention!
Dig down
for an
umlaut.
Spoon
moon
nuggets
into my
mouth,
oh you
little
stinker,
you got
me
thinking
green.

how we spend tonight

fire lips
meet
dark ships
in the
wave
tossed
inlet
and keep
watch
over
starry
wells

fresh aches

body bent
towards bed
hopelessly
twisting
into flesh

sagging
sorrows
pool
in the
depths

bathed
in smoke
no ideas
left

guaranteed

fallen aching

body rest rather

dark all of a 

suddenly rest

rather fall

ache body 

no one's

guess is 

good as 

mine

incandescent rage

after a 14 hour day
i don't give
a fuck about this page
and neither
do they

charging

X on my calendar
morphs into an O
god irreversible 

indecision marks

my forehead with

an A (for Able)
and fastens a sling
for my drooping
looping runaround
engine organ
whose name shies

from pronounciation
but whose work

might one day

be splattered

across the nation

people talk

make him fall in love with you
so that he forgets all about her 

goes the urges of our kitchen's
citizens citing pained expressions
of my dark intentions as proof
that one needs another to remove
oneself from some other another

i don't want to be that someone
i want him to fall 
for me only

buried

tiny cuts
in the tops
of my fingers
go
unnoticed
that is
until i pinch
a lime
between my
fingers
and that
is how
it feels
to be
near
you

pumping the brake

a quick phone call
to my boss
to let him know
how it's gonna go
from here on out
that life without
scheduling mishaps
and no call no shows
and inventory flow
and all that crap
would be mighty tasty
told him i wanted
to be free said
this just ain't for me
so with gratitude
for all we've done
i begin to take my leave
as the moon
blocks out the sun

Superhuman

I am in need of rest.
This wrecks me.

Instead of traveling
one consigns to
unraveling within
the safety of their walls.
I don't know how to rest.
A day to yourself 
works when you ascertain
what yourself needs,
whether it be silence,

a spliff, or an even split
between debauchery
and clean linens.
This reluctance
to pump gas, to relax.
Admitting not knowing
yourself, the self
that begs for a shift
of direction, resolves
nothing. I hear
a voice. Whether
it's my own
I am terrified
to know.

babysitting

in one hand
my problems
packed into
cardboard
contagious
drift of
another day
of it
home
falls short
of an escape
plan
i am tired
of being
approachable
i slither
like a cock
roach
toward
my bunker
hard to tell
her how
far i've
fallen

twentyseventeen

i'm 73 and i bought drugs
says grandpa stepping off
the Colfax sidewalk into
the 7-11 where we got
cool drinks and reemerged
into the blaring Colorado
sun and it was a nice day
off to buy medicine with
your mom's dad and i'm
glad to be the shepherd
on shopping trips and
rip chickenshit klansmen
with him and admire
the fine glasswork
an afternoon in twenty
seventeen if i've ever seen one

flawed

a black metal 

bench cooked

by the colorado

sun

a fatal design

cars crawl by

donald trump 

should resign

fruitful

grandpa makes
grandma a sandwich,
pours some ice water.

i trim my beard.
and the fruitful day
is nearly over.

patiently

lately i've had it
figured that
wherever i am
absent from
waits patiently
for my return
to its form

big talk

as i said,
says the
president,
we condemn
(in the 
strongest 
possible 
terms)
this egregious
display
of 
hatred
bigotry
and violence

it has no place
in America

and neither
does he

spell against terror

white asphalt
and rubber
tracks knees
crumpled
a fallen shoe
memorial
three dead
and a dozen
injured
again
we link
hands
again
we sink
into our
couches
lost again
i have no
song
forward
i have no
way out

something great

the night roils
into dark-road
endings the lights
bending past
Peña boulevard
and I am thinking
hard about what
I want

bark throat

flick of the worm
poring itself
into a pock
on the throat
makes the most
out of an
empty afternoon

All Walk

pulling weight like

hey let's get it right

like hey let's pool

our spare time or may

be look left then right

then cross like christlike

water shoes like nobody's

moves but mine like the 

sun coming after the rain

like smile following pain

it's good what you are doing after all

this inarticulate, our mutual
backing away from the brink,
dismisses an argument which
we tangle to throw off the table,
an expertly woven dismissal
frayed by our ominous hello,
the dark time on its harried way,
the breath lidded, an ethical
furlough, an embrace of our
tempestuous space, our
mythical bruising, selectively
umbrageous, heretic sucking
of our night-blood, delirious
stump, harp of the taken,
pluck love pluck, or shark
the cage of my distance,
if you can hear me from here
delve into your wooded wounds,
and carp your balled-up tender
head into a basket-case, fettered
with felt sense lace, a paralleled
arrival, unparalleled
in some respects.

excellence in overtime

revolving poor
burdened earner
train runner
night claims
scheduled will
pause wheel
rolling for
watering lush
cash tree
what's the
score of
the board
what's become
of excellent
me

crack

when will i learn

to leave things

unfinished

will i ever earn

enough money

to purchase

stasis will 

the rain 

wash the 

soap out

of my eyes

will the

fire still

crackle
tomorrow

honey how's it feel

when ya show up relieved
and eager to dump
yr day's matter over smeone
willin to listen
and to be glossed over
in favor of silence

or when ya look for me
worried i would leave
without sayin goodbye
so i gave my goodbye
without flickering an eye

i'm so tired

trying to hurt you

island of the mind

pointing to the white mountains and lake
starting to really fall in love with this place

curled up on a couch with a body that fits
starting to feel like i've found one who won't quit

walking on a rocky shore breathing salty air
starting to feel like we're really going somewhere

some inward island where the calls won't go through
starting to think happiness thrives without you

lost at the bottom

spun
felt
into
thick
jams
and
ran
into
post
trauma
mast
splint'ring

Forlorning

by an electric
flame swerve
through flux
shift settings
fixed nothing
missed moment
of the cascading
upward eternally
moment breeding
like rats

the news that's fit to print

Injuring time
               half-cooked
                            by the sun
  bathing in smoke
                 lovin sickly vibes
angling day toward home

Nothing's fit
          for reasonable consumption

                      my eye-scar bloom
                gets more like lead
                        all the time

Mongrel humor
             
                  and expressive
                  facial suggestions

besiege my mood's variety

no qualms with openness
                  with the unlocked
                           or unscrupulous

spirits trespassing on my
                         heart's piazza

but across projected meadow
goes my hopes for
              overtime union

i had a poem for the first of august

but the day
dragged it
away