come now and gather round children
and i will tell you the tale
of a wind that is bound to blow in
and the way that the wind will wail

see i too once was a baby
rocking away in the bough
when a breeze came along and it shoved me
down down down

and i fell from the arms of my mother
i fell from the limbs of the tree
and this wind that keeps on blowing
will never let me be

when i sleep it scratches my window
and it wakes me from my dreams
this wind never gets it answers
at least that’s how it seems

this wind is a storm in the making
and it follows me like death
and i’m worried that this poem
will be my final breath

and i’m worried for you dear children
that’s why i sing this story
of the wind that never softens
of its evil endlessly glory

it will follow you
it will follow you
it will follow you to the graveyard

it will follow you
it will follow you
it will lead you to the end

it will follow you
it will follow you
like a song lost in your skull now

and the thing about
this wind called death
is he is your most loyal friend



i had this dream that i walked out into the ocean
arms at my side at night i just kept going
there on the shore you stood watch
arm stretched out before you you sang to me
but i was entranced, lost to the rhythms of the sea
i stepped out further, cold water at my ankles
i stepped out further, cold water at my knees
and the whole time you sang to me arm stretched out
i did not see, i did not hear the song you sang
i just walked further and further into the tide
i stepped out further, cold water at my hips
eyes glazed over with the mist of salt
i did not know where i walked to
i did not know if i would ever look back
i just continued to walk out into the ocean
the wind blowing on my face and the
sun pressed down upon my bare shoulders
i seeked the black mystery of leagues deep
i seeked to be a dark submarine traipsing
through fog and algae and in the distance
the demon eyes shining in the rocky caves
i stepped out further, cold water at my back
cold water at my shoulders up to my neck
and just then. the moment before the ocean
sucked me in to the unanswerable question
i heard your sweet songs skipping on the waves
and it hit my ears with hallelujah and amen
sweet siren singing me away from shipwreck
i turned around cold water off my shoulders
off my hips my knees my ankles and the sun
of your love i remembered i remembered
once and for an eternity i will recall
that the mystery is there within you
in each breath in and out like the crash of waves
the deep caverns of your love
your ocean fifty million leagues deep
i placed my hand on the soft of your outstretched arm
and i dived deep into your song for this sailor
this lonesome wanderer lost in the maybe
but forever found in the constant rhythms of your moon
and the sea in my soul that sways to its sound



congratufuckinlations, sir
you are the hoo rah mayor of selfie town
you have become so damn good
at taking the spotlight
and cramming it up
your own asshole
you are your own personalized
votive candle
complete with holy sticker of yerself
plastered on the side

your wick is burning

no one gives a shit

and when the long day is done
when you retire from the soured limelight
to your king-sized bed
you snuggle up nice and tight
beside yourself
big spoon little spoon
you coddle with the one you
love most dearly
and when the lights turn out
you continue
your vicious ritual
of stroking your own

congregation of one
you are your own moon
you are your own sun
but there is not
a single star in your sky
you light the void
like a bonfire
in a garbage dump

you taste your own death
on the tip
of your own sucker

you strap soup cans to your mouth
and ears
wired together entangled
entranced together
and you claim to hear god

the world sleeps in
lost in a raw dream
of static and painful love
absent of kings and jesters
and kings and jesters

write down your legacy
and use it to cushion your coffin

hoo rah mayor of selfie town
la dee da king of the fun house mirror
drown in the alphabet soup of yer name
show strangers the pictures of yourself in yer wallet

have fun on the thin road
that leads to a thinner road
that leads to a thinner road still



and in the middle of the night
the boy sneaks back into his poet soul
out of nowhere
he climbs into the rib cage of his heart
pulls up the skin of his arms like sleeves
and finds his electric fingers bouncing on the keys

sometimes the brain packs up its shit
lifts its trousers and two little suitcases
and hops on a plane to nonsenseville, nowhere
sometimes it’s meditation
sometimes yer running from a life yer afraid of
throwing on kicks and pushing off the ground
into the dark forest
push through to spectre
where some blonde girl throws yer sneakers up on the line
sometimes some times some times
blah blah blah

here we are
you and me. a fireplace. a bottle of whiskey.
a really fucking big bottle of whiskey haha.
you and me.
(it’s inescapable really the way i think about
but dear reader it’s you too!
it’s you i love too!
you’ve been so patient with my anxious stupid.
you’re always there for me.

i am sorry if i’ve been an absent father of a poet.
life isn’t always linear.
in a world where we are multiple people
there’s a lot of group therapy to be had.

my path has never been┬áthat of a paintbrush –
i’ve got bills to pay
debts from past lives
(kind of makes me sound like a drug dealer)
but the truth is
i’m more of a free spirit
with its ghostly tail attached to a dollhouse.

but i’m here to visit.
here to say hello.
to shake the hand to kiss the baby
to go around the wedding saying nice things
to dance with the bride
to love the way the love manual tells me to love

but then
in the middle of the night
i pull my heart up from under the floorboards
throw it in my tin man chest
and i splatter my red all over the walls
i graffiti the city and i flood the streets
and the townspeople will awake
to find christmasday in july
to find the sonic echos of my soul
and a dead poet in the street
then buried in the ground
then mixing with the worms and the roots

that is how they will find me
and you and him and her and the mailman


i am unafraid to say to you.

let each day work towards my freedom
let each moment in love be unabashedly sincere
let each porch swing swing high into the night
fly off its ropes and ascend graceful into the heavens

let there be flashfloods of hope
lightning storms of abundance
angels dancing like hipsters in the flat
of some famous dead poet

let us kiss like we just discovered this. lips
let us bust through the ropes that contain
our cocaine hearts
let us be ready to face our new love

let the birds free from the chapel
traveling through time to a holy grave
soldiers falling for the future
as one ascends into existence in this white light symphony
this giant sandbox of death and orgasm

let die the dying dog
pour water on the campfire and get some sleep
take moments to just be
tear them off the paper on the bulletin board
call the number listed

let lay my head beneath you
i do not fear how tall you are
i am unafraid to say to you
i am unafraid to say to you
i am unafraid to say to you
how deep your rivers run through my limbs

let down the moon from drunk denver
let our steps be chaotic, unplanned and together
let lay we against the timeless brick walls
let lay we lost in the cosmos above oz

let we move
not forward not backward
not any way in particular
let we dance yes dance
dance veronically for the world
let we dance for the stoplights
for the lost generations
let we breathe this gospel in
let we scatterbrain talk
let we automatic touch
let we semi-automatic breathe
let we swallow these great sighs like buildings falling

these tied up wildflowers
i am unafraid to say to you
i am unafraid to say to you
i am unafraid to say to you the end.



i am enchanted in waiting
i make sandwiches
run rubber erasers across paper
i draw a dot drawing of your face
made up of one million dots
congregating to form my memory of you
as you are gone
lost at a crossroads
i worship your shadow
realizing not even the sun
can capture you

i understand you may never happen
you may get lost in a whirlwind
me lost in another whirlwind
not a single raindrop of intersectionality
but we can hope adjacent whirlwinds
i like your whirlwind adjacent to mine

i send you short love letters
you send me love
my tongue is colloidal silver sure
but my heart is stained blue
and meanwhile yours is an open locket
mine need crowbar mine need leverage
maybe your leverage the best leverage
of your hand on mine on the crowbar

i drive in circles in a rectangle state
i listen to andrea gibsons breaths in my car
i dream of you counting her breaths beside me
driving in circles in a rectangle state
love is sometimes
that’s it sorry
love is sometimes and i am saturday morning
poem leaking faucet
and the faucet keeps leaking
and some nights it keeps me up
with its potential to change
but most nights the fact it is there
is enough to put me to sleep
in your arms
which may or may not be



i went to the aquarium recently
and as i stood there staring at the jellyfish
the eels the sharks all pushing through the water
on the other side of the cinematic glass
i saw a boy
and he stared right back at me

he did not swim
he did not wear any kind of apparatus
to help him breathe he just walked across the floor of this
small segment of the ocean like a polaroid photo where
he ended where the edges were, he moved in blurs
like someone shook the photo too hard
amongst the aquamarine blue depth he just stared back
we did not speak but we heard everything we said to each other
he told me the water was cold, he told me the days were long
he told me that most people didn’t even notice him
they were too consumed by their camera phones
to utilize the reels collecting dust in their photographic memories

as i walked away he walked away too
out of this snapshot of the ocean
and back into the sunlight where my gills disappear
and i am just and only and less than
but the boy in the aquarium and i
we both know better than that



i cut through twelve hundred city blocks
nine thousand stop lights fifteen thousand
stores eighteen hundred coffee shops
busted through fourteen million crowds
seventy-seven planets twenty-three
galaxies i took a bus during rush hour
a cab during prime hours i sat on
a greyhound from saturn to jupiter
i begged for change from a rabid dog
i did three thousand push-ups in
exchange for a bed i stole a kid’s
bicycle i lived on a farm for a month
with an amish couple with a three-
legged cat named hochstetler just to borrow
their carriage to get into town to call a
friend who let me sleep on his futon i read
through twelve phone books looking for your
number i walked across hot coals
in india in exchange for a map i
literally gave a man the shirt off
my back in exchange for the piece
i was missing to build a time machine
to go back to the appropriate year just
to give you this poem that i wrote
for you because one night when you
were drunk you said i’d write a poem
about you and i did so here you go
i hope you like it.



bishop's castle

in the wet mountains of southern colorado
in the san isabel national forest
a man named Jim Bishop
decided he wanted to build a castle

at the age of fifteen
Jim Bishop payed $450
for a two and a half acre
parcel of land
he earned the money
by mowing lawns,
being a paperboy
and working with his father
on the family business
of iron

jim dropped out of school
after a teacher yelled at him
“you’ll never amount to anything,
Jim Bishop!”
but Jim Bishop didn’t hear that at all

Jim Bishop began building a cottage at 25
and since rocks were free and in abundance
he decided to build a stone cottage
people around him would say to him
“wow, Jim, are you building a castle?”
and he heard it too much for the answer to remain no

over many summers
stone by stone
Jim Bishop turned his endless insatiability
into in a castle in the mountains
towers 160 feet high
it still stands to this day

everyone tried to stop Jim Bishop
his teacher, society
even the government tried to halt him

that to me is the american dream
not letting anyone or anything get in your way
including america


Jim Bishop is currently in a very hard battle against cancer. To donate to help him and his loved ones through this, please visit this site.


the vandals came in the darkness and spraypainted colorado white
i wake up and its winter again
colorado is like that
teasing you with summer and then all of a sudden bam its frozen all over
it’s like being inside of a broken freezer
intermittently glitching on and off, but the lightbulb is always on
even when you close the door
but this is how we live our lives here: ready for anything
we wake up each day different creatures, creatures of habit

today i stay in and read fahrenheit 451
tomorrow i burn down the churches that have set love on fire
today i sleep and make dreams unseen
tomorrow i drag those dreams by their dead boots into living reality

we rinse and we repeat
we do what others are afraid to do
we live in a landlocked state
but we send waves to all of the oceans

i bounce back and forth between boulder and denver
between spirituality and humanity
between a mountain town and a mountain city
between the mountains and the city
i sit in the sand dunes amongst the impermanence
i see the ghostly bodies swinging from the clocktower
i bike down the yellowed platte river into the emerald city
i listen to local bands stuck on i70 on my way to d.i.a.
i get ragedrunk on pbr at three kings
i smoke a joint with anarchist jesters outside of mutiny now
not mutiny later mutiny next week not mutiny soon
mutiny now i mourn the death of atomic records
jerry’s records paris on the platte

i watch as the rest of the world discovers the city
i’ve always loved
like the girl i was infatuated with in high school
before she took her glasses off
before she got sexy and cool and well-marketed
but now the tourists come pouring in to new amsterdam

i go grocery shopping at 1 in the morning
in a hoody and gym shorts and flip flops
and i laugh at the man in line
straight out of an eddie bauer catalog
buying a cooler a bag of ice and cold cuts

i drive home from the grocery store at 1 something in the morning
and i see those blue and yellow lights out of the void of the darkness
the snowplows, the great guardian angels of the night who clear the roads
they remind us that even when colorado is shaken up like an etch-a-sketch
they will be there to draw the lines across this red rectangle of ours