sitting down

 s i t t i n g d o w n



My dear.
Three sheets to the wind
moving on
I smell tea
& a hard sea breeze
crawling up the bluff
through the apple trees

I sit.

Croquet & wine
between friends
I hear in the distance.

I see the clothesline,
cut the sky
three sheets
hung wrong.
They’ve been there
for years.

Cold air comes
with the moon.
I must go in
for dinner.
Though, I doubt I will eat.

If the sun shall wake me,
once more,
I will write another letter,

The post man skipped my house,
I have piles of letters

collecting dust. as I wake,
I smell my neighbors’
coffee brewing.
It’s time to feed the dog.




In the field

I can see the wind coming.

The smell of dirt
kicked up.

Apple blossoms falling.
The night sky,
white light.
The birds are dying
no music.

I feel my feet
sink into the ground,
bury my head
& shield me from the change
in winter wind
rolling through the grass.




I would like to see

what happens
when I don’t
feel this way.

A broken window,
bathed in sun.
to run

r i v e r s




I’ve seen pavement
take rain this way before;
past madness.

Everywhere you go,
rocks hard.
Soil soft.
Air convoluted.

So I’ve taken to fighting.
Drunk with fury,
drunk with liquor and fear,
I’ve been losing.

Turn on the bright lights
and let me see your skin
because it’s dark and my vision is blurry
as I get up off my knees.

Say what you have to say,
then tell me something
I don’t know.


Watch the weather change.




Warm moon.
Crisp wind.


people with
no flesh,



Light trails
& my body is engulfed.

Good vibes only
go so far.

So take me up
and lay me down

upon the mantle
that stretches miles

suspended inside
the deep sky.

The one the thunder rumbles.

Roll across
transparent plains.

Where my body
lay limp

surround me
& let me

feel the
warm moon.




Take me to the hill
watch the sun rise
as it peals the dark
sky back.


We saw the trees
had all burned down.
The black sky has
flooded the land.
I wish I were sitting down.




…kill your Father.
Blow smoke.

Take control,
feel regret.

Beat yourself
with your one good arm


pills &

break your hand
on a rough brick wall.

Clean the blood
with your own spit.

Shit in your bedroom.
Wake up at noon.


not smiles.

Kill yourself
& with your regrets,

wake up for dinner
on new years eve.

Fake a smile
tired by nine. 

Fuck yourself
& kill your son.

Peal my
skin back;

mow my lawn
I am

sit & stare

the spider in the corner,
for hours and hours












to die




Rain runs thick
in my house.
My clothes mold.
I still wear them.




What was it that you loved about me?
Was it the way my eyes hold the most
amazing shine you’ve ever seen?
Was it the way that I would get so excited
when you’d come to visit in the summers,
I’d take a shower quick because I heard
you were at the border,
I’d give you a tight hug and sneak you a kiss hello
when my mom wasn’t looking?
The way that made me look so fucking adorable?

Were you in love with the way I was embarrassed
about my sexy body?
Didn’t you just love the way I’d curl up into you in bed
and fit perfectly in your arms.
Did you love that we were the same height
and fit like spoons in a drawer?
Or was it simply that I was the kindest person
you’d ever met?

Or was that you?
And you’re me,
and I’m you,
and I’m still confused.
So, what was it that you loved about me?
I forget or you never told me.




A careful mind
moves the sun west.

Place me so I may lay
my feet upon the ground.


Morning dew holds me down.
Burned away by the late afternoon
I rub my eyes awake.
The blue bird sings.


Smell tea brewing
as I come from sleep,
just before bed.

A warm center
calling me with arms wide.


A macabre light,
with teeth;
it loves my spine.




Sideways blown
straying planets
waiting, I rest in the waiting gate.

Say that ballad
wrapped in a ballad.
So she ate
the ocean smells,
the fish,
speaking of tomorrow,

God get out of here.
An island of calm
like a sunset down.
No such thing.

The thought walked
couples lounge in slim, fenced yards
covered in fog
a margin of empty space between water.
Am I crazy like you
on the table, a book of glass?

My fever’s growth
the slow cresting
O’ lung
didn’t get it,
lost is in not having a secret.
as soon as it becomes something else
only wish to survive the last word said

an island of calm
The thought walked of disbelief 
and that’s a wonderful thing.
The slow cresting.




I walk a lion
"Roar" he says
Sharp teeth, Keen eye
I roam his shadow.




We’re on our way
to finding out
we’re a long way from home.

I miss the smell of sunshine
and the sound it made
playing across your golden hair,
soft and sincere.

I haven’t been able to stare it straight on recently,
not like I could when I was younger.
My eyes start to water and my heart sinks low.
Often my cigarette will slump in my fingers,
grasping for life, above the dirty puddle
spread for miles under my feet.

You sound like sunshine
and smell like sunshine
and you both erupt with
blinding beauty,
overwhelming power,
when I catch you radiating out of the corner of my eye,

My body starts to shake
as if it were too cold for this sunny weather.
And although you beat down upon me
with all your effortless radiance,
my Sun,
my thoughts get lost and my lips start to quiver
and my heart slows down
and stops. 

I am freezing 
under this white heat.
My being is turning black and blue.
But I bought a rosey new shell this winter
with the money I saved for our trip together.
No one will notice me in,
as long as I keep from throwing up.
that always calls attention to the things I hide inside.
It’s embarrassing.

You’re the only woman that makes my stomach curl,
my heart sink low and lose my breath.
and feel I’m looking into the sun.

And I don’t believe we’re over.
Although our day is through.
Tomorrow’s supposed to be
just around the corner.

My Sun,
my Sun,
my radiant Sun,
you have to see the other side,
disappear behind the city.
But know the whole time you’re gone,
I’ll be right here,
waiting for you to rise.




I’ve been spending my time in abandon buildings
Talking with the broken windows and collapsing foundations.

Storms whistle through the spaces;

the empty air carries their songs for miles. 

I cry out to the storms, “Me too! Me too!”
And then realize as my words rumble
away in this empty space around me,
That I’m still alone, in this abandon building
With whom I’ve grown to be quite fond friends.




Cobble stone,
hard with ice.
Cold blood pumping.

An old lady and her husband.
Tea beside them.
A crisp snowfall,
sharp air.

Sun on my home,
Dusk upon my person.
Nightfall takes the day,
just over the hill.

Lay down heavy;
hear what that sounds like.

I wake up alone.
A low rumble
deep, rattling.

My world trembles
my neighbor’s hand holds