Sunday, February 19, 2012

Carnival in Louis Armstrong park
This feels like perhaps it
Should be significant or
Could be or
The jazz wheel in
The treme
Is something literary
God am I fucking

This maybe is what
It's like to lose one's mind
To speak in the royal we
Like you're a surrogate
Or a petri dish
I'm so terrified
Of the trappings of

I don't know if I'm
Laughing or crying or
Why I can't be the Cardinal
Why I can rent horses
On Macinac or why
It's so perturbing to be
Grandiose and all
My problems find their
Solution here with
Your head in my lap
Looking out across
The marbled bricks

Raindrops fall like
Dappled slugs I am
Reaching for excuses to use

The treme
A place on television
If someone found me
I hope they'd stage my death
As holding more intrigue
They'd hang me up
Like strange fruit
And pluck me
For some strange purpose

All I can think about is you
All I can think about is being


Sunday, February 5, 2012

black bottom spoon
and powder on the table
come too late
come too soon
bubbling black venom
on a black bottom spoon

Friday, February 3, 2012

on my 24th birthday
i find myself a miner
for small pleasures
an author of small
fictions a lover of
small women and
it's no small wonder
that the world seems
smaller today than
it ever has or ever will

the subatomic makeup
of a man's heartspace
years of study and all
it means is that we
get better and better
at parsing the signifiers
of those with the courage
to give and receive love
throwing caulk and spare
thumbs into the holes
we find in the rough hewn
and ponderous levees
of our dearest friends
whom we collect
like pondstones

it is true also that some men
dedicate their lives to the
taxonomy of certain rocks