this coffee is caramel, or piss-colored

and the question stayed choked as i slumped to the floor

and the curled carpet rose around. Ave, ave, ave…

black-and-orange caught our hips and held, soft/tight facial lines

I need to close. I am weighted.

But it is late/early morning and the sun is a one-sided hug

and we know that everyone is probably full of shit, (anarchy) but

that doesn’t stop burnt letters from whirling forth and fro….

suspended. taut line.


less than impressive

what do you know? (me?)

could you speak plainly, straight up, shooter

but this stirs up so much, history

is our deep d[anger]. I miss

the compainionship, the very idea –

would you speak up or will it always be I?


arms draw out

in black, which soaks up light safely

and leaves bright contrast in limestone

I rock, smoothing the surfaces across each other until


A touch of acid and gum, the image fizzles

washed away carborundum

resin dust could give you cancer. So could asphaltum.

but etched in stone is family.

seven hours

back home, this would be an adventure

I would know what to do

something great would happen

and we would eat chapati on the side of the road.

Would. But we are here,

I am windswept, arms folded, staring into a stream off the shoulder

of 215.7 southbound at 7:00pm (it’s getting dark, we have 4 hours to go)

and the engine is spluttering. Maybe it will explode.

Every pothole will be a curse, every damn trucker

will be stress.



what am i without all this water weight?

it’s been slowing me down, keeping me under

and for the first time in months I can consider

what I really want, the fresh greenery

of optimism and ideas springs up in my brain and spine

I am a little bit freer than I was yesterday and I will drink

all of this rainwater happily