“All our best decisions are made unconsciously, like the heart continuing to beat.” “Why is it good for the heart to continue to beat?” “Well, it allowed you to ask that.” “Touchee.”

Straightaways, Straight-edges We see Now Along with . Our ideals, A sun setting Behind a truck bed And the TV blaring To funnel monuments Of thought, . As to just see those straightaways, To make ourselves as small as an ant But brandishing moments with our faces to the sun Will walk us into the […]

Darkness, there, Again, As my gem-bound elixir Turned To something I’m afraid to know Tells me all over That to live is to bare teeth Hardening like our plastic pitchers On the surface, navy blue and white.

Morality is gone… How else could it be, Here giving myself into What all along, My parents would have wanted for me, The joy of living, There is no way, NO way, I could do unto others rightly On this trampoline of eyes, Eaters of moments and climbers of vines.

The problem with the phrase “my soul,” to me, is that the very essence of “soul” is interpersonal, if success is to be defined by the rate at which we help and give aid to others, so any mention of a purported personal entity the “soul” is actually an evasion of the moment — it […]

Attempting to read the passage on funk in silence, in a closet by candlelight, so it would be quieter, I kept incurring damage, damage to my psyche in the form of cars, passers by, missiles like jet engines with makeshift songs, all that nothing that I’d otherwise wish I’d learned, the cadence, the rhythm of […]

That man, There, You can look at him, Because he’s engrossed in impossibility – The great possibility, Which so many now alive will correctly, So correctly, Dialect as wedged within A cacophony of capitalism.

Now I see that my anxiety was warranted, With little burrowed creatures adorned by shark’s teeth Coming out and manning platoon positions, Wanting only for that shrapneled edge To bring a hark to the Night where they stand alone Feeding the words Of the days and numbers with horsepower.

If not for music, It would break my heart when you stared off into the distance, As if nothing’s going on. . Such would be the case of my Baby mind Existing within names of streets We all left them though off the quarry At sand hill’s median Fleeing from truth.

Whitman was a lover of the planet. The zeal, the fervor, and the vividness take shape even more preternaturally than does his human sympathy, in poems like “IN CABIN’D SHIPS AT SEA”: “The boundless blue on every side expanding, / With whistling winds and music of the waves, the large imperious waves, / Or some […]