She blocks the sun

she blocks the sun with her hand

knows what my mind is thinking

is the ship at halt or just sinking

she blocks the sun with every rain

reminds me of the fools advice

that love is not free
in this paradise

Turning down the path
where are we

Where are we?
It’s simple at best,

sliding into a calm mess

she blocks the sun with her hand

seems to know just where we’re going

realizing with a smile
there is no way of knowing

she blocks the sun with her pain

lies down to rest

the sky can’t stop denying

her soft request

the bridge can’t stop decaying

in this wasteland

of vertical straying

across blue masses

to construct the center


falling through the feeling in your hands

footprints in the sand

that make no sense

Turning around dead end
where are we

Where are we? It’s reckless to mess,

confessing to calm distress

She blocks the sun with her hand

knows what my heart is making

shrugs me off

returns me to the race

she blocks the sun with her presence

a shining lamp of goddess

her resistance

streaks mutiny in rough hearts

Turning from the trails

where are we

where are we? It’s wild out west,

burning in calm stress


Broken GovT

I got a broken nose
cut down, jointed bone
I am not going down this round

In wrecked noise

acute to sound
distinct in disruption
for lines not secure
scattered by comedy
in leisure and soft design

I got broken nose
jointed down, cut bone
I am not going down next round

In exhausted fall

against weighted incline
the pranksters
haunt in the wild
in every split head
split mind
spinning atoms for all

Be rush Be a rush

dodging crowds that blend easy

banishing carousels to free gods

seeing this heart of darkness

rapped around by fanatics

every wire transmitted

across trapped liberty


reading to expose

the madness of writing

realizing the seams

of dream are without matter

resurrected atom

erected to stand in angles

We got a broken government
shut down, stripped bone
contempt to destroy everyone around

In spliffed inferno

I am wood man and I burn too
we come so close
for peace and justice
that never meet.

Stick Houses

A thin disguise

barrier in dream

glazed by mint leaf

Brittle pulse

cradles invasion

no changes that can be erased
before saving

Her sharp needles always bleed

A smell in pine barren

nature’s menthol

gift wrapped echelon

Caged in laughter

in shaft of sickled vine

hanging shards
in lost holiday glow

Her sharp needles always burn

A mean reprise

dream in barrier

anxiety shifts under embryo

from within the stick houses

her sharp needles warp

from memory

disguised by art
for stakes built in pain

don’t go to sleep

Freddy is coming for you

Christmas lights cracked

to feeling


to the third eye revealed.

On writing


he has the eyes of a writer
keen and cagey
waiting for some threshold
to fall
the exhausted flowers
against a red sunset
more worlds to collide
with the power of pen

he has the eyes of a writer
buried in his cataracts
a pupil of thought
for a sight dilated
marked by his madness
cradled by his salvation
dimmed unwanted and hopeless
worthless to the wandering eye
set in his sculpture
the one inch of creation
denied by the unaware

as a writer he is tragic
no difference even if he didn’t write.

Write living

Seems distant to believe
We grow no more
Just endure
velvet stars
in moonless night
Write living
Focus my energy for attitude
To change to grow
Vicious moments lost in time
And I awake everyday
On a mattress with no sheet
In the soft hum of rain
And cars beating into pavement
To crack the window
Is to endure
Write living
Cardboard notes left to rust
Cold and rough
A paper cut
A nail that is red, irritated
By the exposure of daylight
In this existence
Write living
Focus your energy for altitude
Above forgotten wind
Creeping past us in a vacant lot
I will cut my chin
Against the frozen wind
And endure
It is what was trained
To keep writing alive.

lonely soul warrior

lonely soul warrior
bent over a pint
listening to old jazz
that hits the pavement
echoing the hard
pellets of rain
lonely bearded
soul warrior.
inside the minds
of others
shrieking at dissidence
like it was a stranger,
a con man of clowns.
lonely bearded cradled
soul warrior
to the dream of himself
locked in a cabin
surrounded by
vinyl and whiskey
girls that dance
to no music.
lonely soul warrior
bent to the straightness
of the world
so suddenly and rash
we smoke the hash
pent up residue for
the masses.
lonely soul warrior
scribbling away fancy
for the trench madness in us all
face tilted to the lights
pen deep in ink
eyes wandering
landscaping the terrain
of this dubious shelter.

silent campus

downshift to second

let it roll

through the rail track tunnel

sound your horn cowboy

no one stops


third to accelerate

leans to the circumference of force

in the way I press on the gas

she reacts

she purrs me into the windy gray night


what is left


the crawlers

fantasy and brutality

a war

machine made

to drive us mad

silent campus

voices that remark

we are this media

we succumb to reality murder


in three years

I will be sitting inside

a broken bus


mad radio institution.

Election Rejection

Election Rejection


Figures for the classified

Punch lines for the comics

A way to read something

And not really understand it


Nominated on time

Press lines for the drones

selected media all programmed

Waiting for you


Elected on the front page

Pinpricks for the wicked

A way to kill yourself

without dying


Corrupted in the funnies

Idols to false idolatry

redacted pages burned

Waiting for you


Provisions for this junk box

A way to mangle the words

one last time


Very Little Sun

these days, things

accumulate like weather

moments will freeze

in slow train motion

the flash rivers we endure


these days, things

when you see hear listen

if you’re vacant

to a smoked death

trapped, antique attic

a worn circuit


this daze

has very little sun

the insincerity

of timely sun rays

flattened by the trees


these days, things

have no meaning just memory

devoted to wandering

exhausted in wondering

the path you remember

or need to discover


these days, things

are seen with much disguise

seasons forget one another

we see the acceleration

of erosion in every

fall and rise

or need to realize


this daze

has very little sun

the insincerity

of timely sun rays

flattened by the trees


these days, things

dissolve seized remnants

dreams moments will sleep

in edged disturbance

the mindless voice we disband


these days, things

when you feel, know

the reasons

in uncontrollable sadness

mechanical world of motion

a torn devotion

this daze

has very little sun

the insincerity

of timely sun rays
flattened by the trees