The heat
will make you do
and think, many
sleepy things—
when time slows down
to the dripping of sweat—
oscillating at noon.
Monthly Archives: June 2022
Thank You For Those Good Times
There was a roll of film
I shot in New York—
shadows of sidewalk
shadows over Queens
shadows across Brooklyn
shadows in the dark,
shadows of people
shadows from rooftops
shadows over Pearls
shadows cross the L
where Mac and Mike and Garrison sat
lights among my darkness—
and when I got this roll developed
there was nothing to see but black.
Light leaked through my camera.
That light was all of you.
1946——8——2022
In a library, off Verdugo
it’s peaceful, and quiet
besides
the adolescent girls sitting cross-legged
making jokes, and
the occasional waft of homelessness—
clocking in their ten hour shift.
The internet is free, as are the restrooms
so it all makes its own sort of sense.
It’s 2022 and I’m just now reading
letters, from 1946—and on—where the world
described, is that of failed systems
injustice and its people, confused
and troubled and hungry, and mad.
It’s the kind of peace and quiet
that slowly breaks your spirit,
that slowly breaks your heart.
In a library, off Verdugo
is where I understand.
The Primrose Path
We’ve walked before, the primrose path
and what good hath it brought?
It’s crimson skin, and pit of death
the yew forgives us not!
Quite tempting is the flower, bud
who’s poison’s not enough,
it’s beautiful and deadly
how, our lives rely on luck.
See nature isn’t partial,
it doesn’t give a fuck.
We’ve walked before, the primrose path
to learn what can’t be taught.
Nothing Feels Better Than Pain
Haven’t got the chords or melody.
Nothing feels better than pain.
I haven’t got the reasons anymore.
Haven’t got the words to explain—
People living life like it’s a parody.
Everyone to me looks the same.
I haven’t got the reasons anymore.
Nothing feels better than pain—
Prove to me there’s goodness, and I’ll prove you wrong.
Prove to me there’s no pawn in this game.
Talking to you now just feels meaningless.
When Courage gets mistaken for Insane—
I haven’t got the reasons anymore.
Nothing feels better than pain.
Haven’t got the chords or melody.
Haven’t got the words to explain.
Words Of An Average White Male 