It’s an uneven shift
And rather than tell me
You serve me
Gray-faced tilt and pour
Time lapsed and distilled
And passed over

-for c.c.

Location:Badlands, San Francisco, United States


The part that stays

Standing gate, where he was
Hands clasped, smooth expectant
Lengthened gaze, relaxed towards
Pause of passers-by
Tense like gusting red sand
Without inference
Was how he waited

for o.m.

Location:Colin P Kelly Jr St,San Francisco,United States

I can tell you, to a point

You ask me what I see;
aubergine, ochre, sienna
color codes and border width
swatches of polka, paisely, houndstooth, burberry
The greater enigma;
your impressionist face
two straight and one bowed line
patches of appetitive and endless darkness
You’re going to El Segundo
to count things, you say
continuing with a banter of terms
that imply calculation and process
What isn’t clear-
and should remain shrouded
unless we’ve given up entirely
-an account of taste and temper
I can tell you, to a point-
stopping before I betray myself
or some principle of seeing
-that you’re not looking for love
I can tell you, to a point-
with great hesitation
because dilemmas are cumbersome
-that everything evolves and nothing changes.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Church St,San Francisco,United States

I need I need

I need to chill the fuck out
I need this grapefruit soda that tastes like the greyhound
that I had six sweet years ago when someone saw me writing
and I was sitting on the sticky edge of a barstool
in the hour before happy hour when I said silly things to the page
and spent more time saying hello than goodbye
I need on this drifting day
for the sun to highlight all the motes
and for the cats to sit at home in curvy asymmetries
and for this cafe to be empty except for the nerdy boys
swigging coffee and soaking up the digital stream
I need to feel like the burden of creative output
is an egoic fantasy, spun out by other falsehoods
like the statistics on unsolved homicides in California
or the corporate verses private solar panel issue
or the subverted loneliness of urban society
I need to chill the fuck out
Tuck away The Secret (TM) and the The Moment (TM)
And just chill the fuck out
Bikram, bite me
Deepak, chill the fuck out
Pema, step off
Jesus, good lord, get off my grill
(And if you think this rant is about you, get a clue)
All I want from the day, from any day
Is enough peace to distinguish my thoughts and feelings
From yours, not literally yours, but others
To ask independently, what do you mean, styled object?
Styled object, are you the cause of this frenzy?
Your substance is derivative, and before that degrades
We will make you new again
I need to leave
You, literally you, unsettled
What you need

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Church St,San Francisco,United States


Why beautiful now
Why when other hearts are broken
And none can bear to see you
Why slip in amongst the sulkers
A prince among paupers
Miguel, your husband home is drinking
Your heart absconded sinking
Why beautiful now
Why with unmeasured spirits pouring
Have you made a mask of beauty
Are you Hal of Wales amended
Will you betray us for noble ends
Or prithee, listen:
This shifting ache is the eternal verity of brief love
So prithee, listen.


my feline slit-shaped iris
to your dark sienna doe eyes
my elbow riding raglan sleeve
to your shoulder baring singlet
my hollywood malted balls flick
to your italian prison sex documentary
my persistent recursion
to your progressive revelation
my explication
to your innuendo

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Noe St,San Francisco,United States


on the surface, it’s banter
i ignore the wisps of fantasy that drift through my mind
and the warm dampening of my hands
i allow those responses to simmer
since the cause is elusive-
-the divine hand trying to bond us and bind us
inviting us to redefine love
trying to make us notice every freckle and fleck,
every twitch and tease

and when i say i am raw or tired
i mean that i am tired of noticing and interpreting and withholding
i mean that my barriers are about to give
and that i will soon feel more than is socially acceptable
or personally tolerable
or practicable once felt
i feel myself unravel as i look into your eyes
at how your irises are dark and deep
and how, while physically similar,
you are so unlike your father
determined and possessed in a completely different way

but you will never be my lover
and i am terrified of taking a new muse

taking a muse divides the soul
into egoic anarchy and creative slavery
and the only choice is when exactly
to beg your pardon
and withdraw
that i might write for hours
tipping my ear to the river of song
that flows through you

Location:San Francisco, CA