Smells – oil on brick –
and – Morning – in time –
While – my heart goes
my – breath is bad –
And hands – are warm

in life. There – can’t be a present
Just – the Sting of – the Story
You turn – in your Fingers

And all this – slush – and all
this slush – in These
slowing steps – We can say
Will be so many more

Like I – am tasting –
just – for show
And – You – are talking
just – for you.

Lovers - trade Tokens -

When - They part -

A - Sign - of the - Mind

They'll - Demand in Time -

You have sacrificed nothing.

the meter and pattern promise nothing in the end

as the horny rub of tennis shoes

on gritty, sounding floor surface

was enough for a while enough for

harmony in structure and something like it all should be,

just, the word truth lives in your

nightfoul very breath, only, in the songs that add

so much to all our lives, and you watch like you're watching

I listened with you I

Listened with you

Christmas poem

And - it's not - her - Fault that - She Feels


Turn the - Gas up - I'm

getting used

to All this Sleep -

Hope - scrapes Those - tiny Notes

And fills - the Space Between -

A - simple Night of - simple Drink -

Isn’t Wasted - for the Faith -

We walked like strangers
 The straight concentration    and she found my skin
holding something under breath


was love she said
was love she said

    walked heavily
            like paste

petersburg sketches

Her hands
are cruel under
the steaming
mushroom soul evil in
the potato char her
eyes inside the salt
and oil rancidly
considering tomato





the woman sitting next to me
on the metro scratching her
throat makes my skin itch
splits the back of my
neck






I urge something like pudding out of
my filthy orifice suck it
back in greedily
misunderstood too
sidetracked for true love
I'll sit a little longer in
this piece-wise sleep it
away

Fantasies in the Bar, or Were I to be in a Bar

She will look back over at you with
a smile, to return a smile: and after
lying with her/the small of her
back/and drifting
through lightrum sleep, is your only
time the nights are sticky
with coming morning you return
smiles betrays that you're just counting
and jesterish piddling through nursery
rhymes and catch phrases:

Is This a new World?
the light is only this light as it gives.
Your life. Knowing what drives you
and shells success its corners and
columns; helps nothing,
and checkmarks on the list
of living the life while there is still
time; removal from a bar will
be sleep unearned