Saturday, October 11, 2014

Elegy (Persistent Momentary Lapse of Things)



Can’t you see baby,

That it’s not working?

All the sincerity,

All this time,

And you break my heart,

At least once every night…


Don’t you feel it baby?

That it’s not there?

Even though I look in your erratically colored eyes,

And see nothing but your want,

with all of your repulsion,


Can u feel me seeing it baby?

That it’s not us we’re chasing?

That it’s the way things are,

In this fucking choreography of attitudes,

And the persistent momentary lapse among them


It tears my heart,

At least once every night…

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Perfect Model

jackson pollack
I wish life was merely the embodiment of the intersection of pretty moments with absolutely no interceptions in between.
You’re in the middle of one snapshot of it, and not knowing what happened, right in the middle of the next.
That way I would do the rightest thing right now and wouldn’t worry about the rest.
No time to regret it if I was wrong.

a perfect model…

Monday, April 14, 2014

Of the nature of the wind

coming from the realm of the wind,
and the people of breeze,
of no memory and no future,
until death makes us stop and gets us to know any peace.
to know us, is to feel a sting,
of being encircled by, and unable to capture.
Cursed us in the cold winter morning,
loved us in the late spring.
Wind. Karl Hofer, German 1878-1955

Saturday, April 5, 2014

The curse

Born within a snake skin
Lured by its reflection
Mirrored through the zombie-d eyes
Antagonizing imperfection
Coordinated by a blow

Saturday, March 15, 2014



It’s a bubble, hollow and warm. You crawl in it, walk in it, naked or not, when you’re a small child.

It’s your home, it’s your world, you’re always in it, lucid, round and light, no matter where or what.

if you want to grow, the means is a touch, and when you want it smaller, it shrinks down to your size.

No more a kid now, you’ve blown your bubble larger, making a balloon of it, bouncing up and down the ground.

exuberant and alive, living in this balloon was, surfing the earth and the skies, landing on others and other’s as is falling in love.

It’s so fun you keep touching it, making it so large, like the world itself: bouncy and round, vast and full of charm.

to the time it’s too large, you cannot see it. Not seeing it, you don’t touch it, you don’t think you want, you don’t even try.

You don’t try, and you don’t want to try. Don’t want to try and you forget. you forget and you die.


Thursday, January 9, 2014

class-ified ambition


If I had the sun
I would charge you all none
for the warmth,

my cold mind wouldn’t have to stray
while my numb hands do the routine
in a cold winter’s night

Wednesday, September 18, 2013



There's this little fraction of time in between the moment you know you’re not asleep and the moment you know you’re awake.

There just might lie the last frontier for salvation…


drawers of memory, salvador dali, 1965