spaghetti war crimes

Crying babes birthed from the mother’s flesh rejoice in glorious ecstasy at their own ignorance of the human condition. Light, in all of its fragments and rays, penetrate through each holy begotten iris and illuminate the geometrical intricacies that cover a barren desert of soon to be upside down images, things past and forgotten. A yelp of joy - no, pain; is it sorrow? - resounds off the hollow walls of the operating room.  Flesh on flesh. The spilling of blood. The groans of birthing pangs rise forth.  This is not a different theme but a second movement in the same symphony. Worlds collide and gather for mass, as mitosis takes effect.  I am he and he is she and we are all doomed to the same fate.  The fate of dirt. Even that bundle of flesh, bones, arteries, and all, that creature who has just graced the Surface must endure the same end as me and you.  So what? the apprentice asks her teacher. So, what is it all for? Look out before you, then look inside of ...

i stare into my phone and look over blonde hair green eyes a shirt that’s too big a running stride images from the past thinking i hope there will be more i hope that this is not the end i hope that all this pain will be worth something i can’t text and i can’t call we agreed space would be good if that’s the case then tell me why i’m falling asleep with your sweatshirt between my legs 2/7/22

sometimes you feel so low and you don’t know why you feel like the world is apathetic to your existence  and if you were gone tomorrow, nothing would change of course, you’d be right but, you’d also be wrong the stock market would still open and close at its usual times the tides would still come in and out the sun would rise and fall, and when the sun departed, the stars and moon would come out to take its place these things would remain the same, but your mother would not your father would not your brothers and sister would be changed your best friend would look upon their reflection in the mirror with blackened hues the light will still shine in your room, but it will be a different light different because it will never touch your skin again the world would be similar but not the same

waterlogged pages bend in awkward ways

father sleeps on our couch he is childlike in posture slumped to his right head resting on a pillow arms tucked into himself i see a twelve year old boy and a sixty two year old man wrapped up at once long day of swimming at the community pool fractured marriage reaching its end overheated from football practice under a sweltering new mexican sun spirit worn by a perturbed son blistered sore feet from evading cowboys and chasing indians childhood sealed by death of both parents while father sleeps it's hard to tell his real age i see a sprawling boy then after a readjustment  of the arms a shift of the legs he is transformed back into an aged man looking with and without eyes i see two different sorts

i gave him a beer      he taught her to ollie      i've blown my chance

Unrequited (adj.): not returned or reciprocated Love (n.): a profoundly tender, passionate affection, often mingled with sexual desire, for another person Many years ago, I gave a girl I loved a book for her birthday; and since I loved her, I couldn’t just give her any ordinary book. Well, the book was ordinary enough, but I felt that I must imbue it with some special quality. Since I didn’t know any spells or incantations at the time, I settled on something a bit less fantastic. I started on the first page of the book and circled a word, then I continued farther down the page and circled another. Turning the first page, my eyes skimmed the second as I searched for more words to circle. Word by word, I began piecing together a poem for this girl I loved, hidden in plain sight. I got to around the 20th page before I was content with my conglomeration of appropriated words and phrases. I gave her the book and waited for days, then weeks, then months for a text or call or facetime. I don’...

under chilled covers. the open window lets in a nipping breeze. candle glow outlines the edges of both profiles. a hand brushes a shoulder. another traces a hip. puckered lips form to those of the other. fully flowing and free to explore, there is nothing untouchable. (2022)

Do I dare disturb the Universe? In all its petulant perverseness?  Do I find it beautiful? Or horrid. Perhaps whorry. Is that a bad thing?  Why are we taught to hate love? To shun sex. To turn away from the joining of two, three, four, five, etc. bodies in the holy cacophony of skin flaps grazing against one another in a quick scene of wet intensity. Is the Universe this World? Or something different. Is it a microcosm or a macrocosm?  I care not for the words of the priest, politician, or preacher. His words are lies that sit upon the psyche of the afflicted and slowly seep into the souls of those most in need of something they do not know how to obtain. Poison racks their humble bodies, and as they die–with eyes and hearts upturned toward heaven–they sink down to Beelzebub’s abode. In darkness, they find light; and in light, they are blinded, reduced to the acquiescent adoption of night, full of new moon. “Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of t...

my heart grows heavy i realize i can’t handle the weight of this reality; the reality that someday soon, we will part ways, my friend, and not see each other for some time. i will think of you often and will pray for our speedy reunion. 5/23/21

a genuine laugh is a rare thing a common occurrence that can so easily be overlooked because of  the day to day  banality of life quick  before you forget notice it quick before it's gone notice it take heed of the swelling in your stomach the air passing throughout your lungs your vocal chords seizing your face contorting into a mass of wrinkles before you know it the phonic clangor of a guffaw a hackle a laugh an outburst of joy or sorrow impatience disappointment the spectrum of emotion that can be covered by a single laugh is quite impressive getting yourself to laugh is just one part of the equation the other perhaps the solution is getting yourself to realize you are laughing when this awareness strikes surely you can tell yourself i am truly living