Monthly Archives: August 2015

“Miami & Golfview”

At morality’s maximum, You will hover in a taut, Coiled state, Knowingly peace only in death, Growing angrier with every green sign As the plants exhibit furtive miracles Straight off of plunder.

“A Song”

How you go through life, There, I should say, I see like the jackrabbits Elemental in the forest . Where to exalt you would be to stop the world, To appease you would make maladaptive indentations In the grooves of wind, As you maneuver through zen poets, Their eyes braced in drastic explosions, . I […]

“The Night Moves Purplish”

We will look back into the wars For images of beauty Because it is there that we cast off all vanity Under Zeus’s scope, . And for our bones and cartilage Know no value in this life, Only rotting into theory, Into still life, . Within this conjecture Of “splendor.”

“Nikon Dens”

I started wearing a black t shirt every day. I thought it might be fun to see what happened if I lost all feeling in me. Just mockery. Mockery of the self, mockery of the world. An albatross in flight. The only feeling that would penetrate my psyche with any significance was of conquest, of […]

“‘Soul’ Revisited: 08/23/2015”

To be exact, and to explicate, one pompous aspect in the propagation of this thing called “soul” is its ignorance of the fact that people affect each other to eventual commonness. So in pursuing the fulfillment of the “soul,” a person rejects coexistence, in a sense. This is, of course, a decision made alone, the […]


Old, ancient trees Like sistine chapels Speak the loudest, to me — . They speak of another time In their hotbeds, now in summer And they drape the canvas of the moment With boundless pride and exuberance, Although the message become’s that of one’s own temporary spot In restless consciousness, Forever shirking harmony In all […]


Sure, All you wanted was to get to a glorious plateau Where you could reproduce, Where you could perceive beauty In the tonal, morphing green sky And shirk the molestations of freedom so aural, . But we’re piled heaps upon heaps, Here, And nobody will ever show you a difference…

“Chains of Direction”

All of the formulations we produce in our minds Are in some way delusions, Because in them is woven pride and ideal, And a love that’s so categorized by society, Flanked with damnation for incompatible vision, Stripped of kinetic foray Under documents and séance faith.


Elegant shine of plenty, Even if I have nothing left to give you, I will give you the last wets of my eyes, The last basin of bone marrow That they granted me on this earth For too short of a time.


There, Which heaven is, I see the little sands of furry animals Nestling around the student building And the bell tower, . Just doing what they can.