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Pride

feel the beat of my heart
feel the pulse in my veins
i have nothing in me but love

i have nothing in me but love
while you venerate
fire & guns
muscle & hate

i can’t give you my blood
but you can spill mine
i have nothing to give but love
my love is my strength
stronger than steel
stronger than greed
stronger than muscle & hate

i have nothing to give but love
spilling from the beat of my heart
spilling from the pulse of my veins

Stuff

i only know as much as i can stuff in my head
a monstrous accumulation of trash & treasure
the ghosts in my closet & the beast beneath my bed
a stone’s throw away from a world with measure

a monstrous accumulation of trash & treasure
we only exist when fed by the storms
a stone’s throw away from a world with measure
an infinite world not yet eaten by worms

we only exist when fed by the storms
this world with a mighty tempest on the edge
an infinite world not yet eaten by worms
our demons lurking just outside on the ledge

this world with a mighty tempest on the edge
the ghosts in my closet & the beast beneath my bed
our demons lurking just outside on the ledge
i only know as much as i can stuff in my head

Timbus

what do you get when you crash
your car into a wall
of broken radios?

you go back to berlin
you mistake time for
tricycles racing through the house

air raid sirens of anxiety crush
hearts in a grip of serpents!
all vinegar in the veins

so you go back to brasília
looking forward to
anger & spite & cayenne crosswires

mistaking time for
a crashing of glass cars through
monumental cold

& you go back to berkeley
but you can never go back
never go back to the blood of lost teeth

If on a Summer’s Day…

I walk into a bookstore, looking for a cheap paperback. A pale woman with bright-blue eyes looks up and gives me a smile. Her hair is dyed purple and green; her clothes are all black. My heart swoons, though I haven’t even known her for a short while. But when that pale woman with bright-blue eyes looks up and gives me a smile, I forget all about the book I came in to find. My head swims, though I haven’t even known her for a short while. These are the times my heart overpowers my mind.

I dazedly forget all about the book I came in to find. Was it an epic fantasy or a dark murder mystery? These are the times my heart overpowers my mind. This is why I have such a messy love history. I just can’t remember if I was looking for an epic fantasy or a dark murder mystery when I originally walked into this bookstore, looking for a cheap paperback. This is why I have such an awkward love history. I’m a fool for women with dyed hair, dressed all in black.

Reality Bites

As far back as I can recall, I’ve wanted to be an artist when I grew up. It often shifted between wanting to be a novelist, an animator, a comic book artist/writer, and an obscure poet, but I knew I wanted to be a professional creative.

I’m almost halfway through my 47th year and I am not, nor have I ever been, a professional creative, although I have been writing poetry and prose and blog posts continuously for over 30 years. Even though it’s painful for me, I want to talk about why I’ve struggled with creating the art I want to create and why I haven’t tried to go pro. (Continued)

Plymouth

hey, you guys
in the cunning disguises!
can i join your masquerade?

a space
a place
a mysterious case of who are you?

oh!
oh no!
no lost again
but butterfly & moth
& a little bit of frost
to chill

oh, you guys
in the cunning disguises!
can i drink your lemonade?

a space
a place
a mysterious case of upstaged youth

truth!
no truth!
truth lost again
most moth & butterfly
& a little bit of rye
to drink

look, you guys
with your cunning disguises
you’ve lost
your case
for an endless empire