The train rides emptyit creates the wind, you see.O, whisper to me.
Untitled SoC 01I light this morning's cigarettebreak in my palms gonnaone day kick this lip-bittenmemory of home and fastfood junkie hipster pop-cultivated mainstreamofconciousnessfeeling I get when I seeher teeth glint through afrown her gown reminds meof the town I used to livein full of ants and facelesslies to my ignorant eyes ofhow a culture swabs itsfilthy four-dollar shot glasspanic attacks on the war oncrime being a state ofmind-numbing back-pat patrolmenlooking to cash-in their druggiefriend next-door to thecave of misbehavior swampedwith interior desolation andmisappropriated smiles that stringtheories of grandeur mud flatsslatted together like brick-builtmortarboard coffeeshop employeescollecting to exit their fees anddebts neglected since theireducations death warranted forarrest of intelligence and apiece of paper signed awayall intents for regret; unlessthe rent is too much stressthat rest is only between my fluidbreath and the nextcigarette.
Western Haiku 04I've stared at the sun,seen all that I could not see;yet you are still here.
(and the dark stopped being scary)once I fell asleepbeside you, I no longerhad need for nightlights.
A Corner of Skya light blue cloud singing in your hand folded once, then once more; the wings of your origami crane I breathe in deep the flesh-like tissue uplifting me through fluttering lids to a corner of skyall to myself, lighter than birds kiting through the draft and rush, reaching for the sun I have no voice with which to sing no feathers, I; still I bank and soar,trying to remember you
available nowlove is like a bruiselurking just beneath your skinbegging to be born
ellie.she was always agalaxy, and i am not allowed to touch stars.
Chaosthe Queen of chaosfrays, rents, rips, eliminatesa complex decay
Hakuna Matatano cares in this worldsing hakuna matataand just fly away
Advice from Master ShaoAs the Spinda movesSo the grass on the hill flowsA beautiful danceAs the Swablu singsSo does the wind in the treesA beautiful songAs the LunatoneRises in the evening skyThe moon does alsoBreath as the breeze doesAllow the wind to carryYour spirit awayThe world always movesRegardless of what you doYou must also moveSing like the SwabluRise just as the LunatoneDance like the SpindaStop to enjoy lifeOr it will move without youAnd you will be lost
and poetry is our baby.We are old lovers,words and I, finding shelterthrough the stroke of pens.
Night haikuThe moon comforts a waveBefore its impending deathUpon the shore
Western Haiku 02The train rides emptyit creates the wind, you see.O, whisper to me.