speaking of balance
one at a time the
formation or words
switches flipped on
birth of a field of
ideas and images

birth in a field
the doctor smacks a
baby so that as it
starts to cry
he knows the thing is alive
the baby notices
him writing
something down

the lid is or was the lid
of a lunchbox
now full of holes
then made a connect
functioned as a protector
of many foodstuffs
before it fell victim
to my curiosities
something was lacking
so I tried my hand at destruction

but everything in
a little time passing
is gonna be okay
and if you can remain tender
there will be better times
even hell itself freezes over
at the right temperature

nothing stays the same
and the bartender agrees
to everything I say

I think I will
have another drink and think about it
to be born anywhere
to be born
is to wake up dizzy and everyone
else has already
been born, kinda unfair
when you think
about it

hang ten by
Gatoraide morning
I never dreamt I’d contact
the spirits in such a fashion
moving into unknown
territory our attempts
to connect teach us
tears and we learn
or don’t learn

in fear we marry too soon
make babies before we’re ready
it’s the next madness
watch the news
watch the insects
in some aspects
they are not so

the decision to write
turned into a being
beyond me

while some see me angry
others see the beauty

it’s all in
how ya carry

carry yourself along


The Rapture

pansies paninis
penises going through gateways
of space/ time shine the ever bright
interstellar voyager
ya panties thrown up beyond the dresser
what the world doesn’t know about you
is the panties down at the
foot of the dresser
it can’t be
I am drunk off this brand new wine
don’t need to ferment long
for it to become a song
anyone can turn pop star in Vegas overnight
check the sun blemishes
the lioness guesses
famishes will
cover the earth

ya flat tire fuckers
ya milk duds
ya dead beats
fuck ’em dead into shade


you can call me Reggie on Facebook
“yo Reggie what’s goin down?”
but I won’t answer because
Reggie is not my name

listen to yourself thinking
the bones broken, sore, waifish
there is a draft in its high capacity
at this significant subtle juncture

since I was little, realized
I was after the rapture
it don’t pay much
look like much
but it’s the motherfucking rapture

it’s true— can’t trust too many (can’t trust the kryptonite)
they hide their skeletons deep in walk-in closets as big
as my apartment

“you know you should write a whole poem
based on people’s baggage… what they bring
into the room, bring into work, bring into a relationship…”
that would be too easy
your beautiful double-standard is buckling
this is a power trip
but tables turn so don’t
act so surprised

fundamentalist dilapidations

if we can’t handle… these angels of mercy
how are we gonna handle aliens?