Monday, May 24, 2010


you can find the text version, here.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

S [elf] I [sh] the painting

you can find the text version, here.

starting to paint

so, i told you that i had been doing some poetry with art...
like the poem S [elf] I [sh]
it has a painting to go along with it, also.

so, i will post them all, i think... since i finally took some pictures.
even if they aren't good pictures.
i have a shitty digital camera, and for that i apologize. both my poetry and my photography deserve better. but it will have to wait until someday, when i have money to get a decent DSLR digital camera.

i think i will also find the entries with the poems, and place the pictures alongside the poems, as well...

and hopefully someday soon, i will be inspired to write more poems. and you will hopefully read them.

Saturday, May 15, 2010


so distinctive
taste, texture, look or smell
and so different in its stages
red to brown, the brightness fades
reverses, from a thick
smell of copper, to salt, and decay -
even a decade later, on the paper,
the smell remains
preserved, a way
to completely transcend time.
i'm back again: young
scared, a whole lot crazy,
equipped with razors
and an inability to cope -
it all projects sadness,
i should feel that -
but instead:
half of me
turns out the remaining lights,
slips her hand
into her wallet
pulls out a razor,
rests it against wrist,
do it.
do it again.
more blood.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

make it neat

anxiety is eating a hole out from
under my ribs.
i take my pulse,
lose count. take pulse; fuckit
it's racing, i don't care.
or do.
i'm not walking straight, i veer
off the walls, towards
the kitchen
fetching tea to wash down xanax
and sit on the couch,
i swallow my panic,
beat it back
open the door and shoo at it
like a recalcitrant pet,
panic will not leave, but
curled on my kitchen floor, smirking,
waiting for me to let it through
the cracks between
madness and medication,
the drinks i'll suck down
to dull it all,
the scotch in my glass
into my stomach.

Monday, May 3, 2010

jazz fest

rolling through my city -
lone trumpet,
4 am,
no ordinary street musician,
but something effortless
the kinds of notes
that rain forth like musical bliss
mingling with
the muted shouting of the neighbors
and people walking home
from bars -
the night is never quiet, here,
the cars fly by
incessantly, highway
always humming

Sunday, May 2, 2010


i do this sometimes, repeat a poem...
forgive me if i don't catch all of them.

it's not purposeful...what happens is that i'm pulling from at least three separate sources, and i occasionally forget if i've done a particular poem.

considering how many i've written over the years, it's a bit hard to keep track of which i have and haven't archived online.

Saturday, May 1, 2010


in the gulf
right now, the
ocean is burning
engineers staving off
the inevitable ending
of oil against delta,
oil in our mud and our fish
and all of the marshland
they set the water on fire,
hoping it'll burn quick -
before the rain i can feel
hanging in the air, before
it spreads steadily,
to land.
we are quiet.
we wait.