Beginning before,
I had run out of gas.
So therefore I proceeded onto no route.
Soon after,
I found myself at a destination
Judging by the vast majority
Of transient populace.

I found no solace,
As it figured into
One dilemma
And the name as we know it,
Lost all meaning,
or was seldom there to
begin before.

But it started nonetheless;
Forgotten winds,
Passing by.


For Liz

There are some spaces that hold the most magic
That adorn the least judgement
That flourish nothing but purpose.

There are some beings that attain true grace
That concede to no other form
That constantly start anew.

We will always cherish those
Who leave us, seemingly, behind
to achieve greater reason.

This poem was written for my beloved cousin, Liz, who left us much too soon. I know now she feels complete, although I wish we down here, selfishly, could have kept her for longer. Love you always.


We always speak as
‘Every so often’,
When reality is,
our saying should be;

Always are the times changing;
always are moods swinging.

Always do we understand ourselves to be better,
able to concur as much
As the next.

I, for one,
Lack strength of all sorts,
In abundance I possess anger,

can be left in the past.

Parking Lots

‘Bad Moon Risin” hits my head,
as I stumble past here, again,
grey sandals
shuffle thru dirt
as they trail behind
it’s tail.

Coarse hair hits my face,
cement graces my figure,
I figure,
let’s have another,
as I trip against time.

Structure collapses over the tar,
stifles its sounds
of nothing at night.
Suddenly it creates treble,

Not so far as humble homes;
not including fixed stables
waves and waves
amidst all those

Divided by change.

AD, Part I

‘Alex’, I whisper,
before voices were meant to prosper.

Your Name Here, I reject,
once so many lovers became suspect.

Here, and now,
Consciousness upon a cloud,
I open without revelation
of a desire so profound.

You create health
in all gone sour,
and relief
in all that was fire.

I lose inhibitions
previously concerned,
in a way that heals
in a way that ceases to yearn.

Never have I realized my craving
for this,

until you fulfilled no expectations
and introduced pure bliss.


burning holes, and then the sheets,
burning holes and then the sheets…

haphazardly mixed into automated voice
the faces of inclines,
facets of the clouds
cut from cliff
shaped from sound

the skin I’m in
had never been home,
until you blessed it
with your solemn tone

Until then,
I flee from sin
The sin, the sin,
I place myself in.

Niceties of a Lady

I lack the soundness
in stature,
Subliminal pace of which I
must go,
Perched upon iron,
Set unto stone,
Few and far between
that endorse you have grown.

Towards grandeur
Forward still,
I found a partner
Within your windowsill

Not of flesh,
absent touch
for present flight,
Around the time
you lost your sight.

Fast, withheld speed,
the Winter Lady fell upon rock
Retrieving slack from your rope
As time passed
Without a clock.

I’m Sane

It was just one last chord that struck,
And I was just the last guest in line.

And it was only ten o’clock,
But it was just me.

And I don’t think they really understood
Why I kept on about the scratchy horn
Playing over the speakers
And why it got to my head

And then I had already ordered
And it was time to go, I held my food,
And I couldn’t open the door
And a kind soul assisted me

And there I was, back on the street,
And I had no idea where to go.

And I did have a place to go,
But that defeats the purpose, now.

For Frank O’Hara

bright like light lavender
slips unintentionally
between your glimpses back
and forth,
noisily contemplating
each other’s banter
lengthened between
the litter.

Beseeched liquors while living
Leaves no burden but lament;
Lifted a ban that left you
Literally belligerent

After four cups of coffee,
Six shots of Jameson,
and two free chugs of Tecate.

My change had been chartered
across your street
and when soft words bleed into ashtrays
I listen in to your minuscule exchanges.