Category Archives: Poems

High clues man.

Look “No Eyes”

We are in state of Cayenne – a bit of
a haze, sitting on a red plush, beer stained couch
while mouthing a chorus of redundant phrases over three chords
that only speak to nihilists wearing shirts with empty sleeves.

Remember though, that opiates have been in pitchers of Hi-C
long before fluoride was introduced to improve our dental hygiene
(unless, of course, you were a rebel with a well).

And our government will distribute a mass issue of Sominex
to be downed by the handful (with a fifth of Jack
to eradicate the null-gel taste) before we drop the ball
in the Big Apple again. All of this trouble because
we prefer Percocet, while others have a predilection towards Morphine.

Sobriety is not the answer mind you, then we’d notice
that god would have to use his JEM-5G electron microscope
to discover our quark sized race (a strange flavor indeed).

There’s a reasonable solution to our specie’s predicament. We should
crossbreed our genome with the poppy, so that both eyeballs
continue to operate, but none of our eyes can see,
especially not the third one, which will become antiquated symbolism
(like opiates, manna trees, and beating hearts will become otherwise).

Let’s Say 2001?  Who knows.

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Always Carry a Pen (If You Get My Drift)

Where is my sword?
Where is my tablet?
When a good fury strikes.

Many times a gusher rush forth.
Without a bucket in possession.
If there is one it has a hole
And a hand can only hold so little.
So much precious muses’ nectar is lost
Or quenches the now moistened dirt.

March 1999

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strawberry seeds

i once saw a vision of strawberry seeds
salivating and swaying
in the infinite reaches of black

every since then i have lived a life dedicated to
fruit

would you like further proof
of the greatness of spirits?

i have waited in many a communion line
to drink the blood of jesus
(and i’m not even french)

“x’s on your hands, not in your eyes!”
you said
don’t you spout candy at me

Likely 2000

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please pick z’s

the fairytale of a blank night
that scares you shitless
so that you do not sleep
with five lights blaring

they are the story of our world
seen through eyes
with black irises
baked into crippled marshmallow

a warning was provided
of plagues
and waves
and love
and moose

thank you, thank you, thank you
you sequined dancers of the fight

Unknown, likely 1999, edited 2020
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the changing structure of the landscape in maryland is directly proportional to the movement of time

sitting under
watching the stream morph
into a flat tailed beaver
that is moving by
like a branch caught in forces of water.

remembering that
it would storm more often
the sky would light up like
a sparking motherboard
and soon my shirt and skin would unite.

walking back
from the secluded sight
through geysers of grass
growing in a path
that was a plain of pine needles.

thinking that
it would snow and we would
build igloos and mine for gold,
like they did in alaska
but now snowballs are hard to come by.

running now
from the fiefdom of hornets
i must have unsuspectingly
stumbled upon their nest
and my skin isn’t impregnable like a lawnmower.

knowing that
the hornets replaced the ticks
that quietly sucked away life
until the ticks disappeared
taking the lone cow in the pasture across the street.

Unknown, likely June 2001

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I Wiped My Mouth On This Poem

a creation of piled clippings
the confetti blocked my aorta
causing pulses to coagulate in my head
a fete in my tete i’d let it set
but somehow i now have realized
i’d meet the spectre if i slept

March 8, 2004

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a film titled untitled

you look at me
i glance at you
you point at me
i nod at you
you smile at me
i know what to do
there is scaffolding
and scotch, silk sheets,
skywaves, and singing
and a fade out. . .

we kissed at the end of the film
your eyes were closed, your arms internal
your thoughts of brazen streets and cloudy nights
my stubble leaving marks on your wan cheek

Unknown, likely 2001

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japan

a samisen song
burnished blue in brisk sunlight
a free sea side dawn.

Unknown, likely 1999

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one in a ten million

how many times does it seem?
that the step taken was a word on a plaque.

when your way is plagued by the blue velvet fog,
quite like the purple haze or the indigo smog.
it is a day of the grandest sort the one that is clear.

in nine of ten million
you would not even realize it was so.
in 9,999,990 out of that ten million
you could not even realize that it was not.
but on that one day designed by dogs.
you realize that there is a path to your route and it is right.

May 1999

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Dora the Implorer

The zipper spilled a watery nun on the ground.

Her presence demanded steps of inspiration,
groans towards the heavenly helicopters,
and for the father to relieve the fevers, the chills,
but she evaporated and left winter turf,
so he clenched his hand and demanded milk, spat it out,
and sobbed where her liquid bosom had lain. 

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