he’s an all-american boy
serves his country
loves his patiently waiting wife
red meat blue beer
gun shooting
flag waving
all-american boy
church on sundays
drives his hummer
blasting bruce springsteen
motor purring loudly

and at the end of the night
he goes home
closes the bedroom door
and he puts on the reddest of lipsticks
and slips into his  favorie lingerie
and he dances to gaga

he dances to gaga
like his life depends on it
like his rhythm could break borders
and end this endless war

as the world watches
this eternal bloody soap opera
he dances a dance all his own
no one to ask
no one to tell
this all-american boy



what if we could still the ocean?

what if we all stood still for one damn moment?

what if we used our weight to hold back the heavy hands of time

instead of spinning forward the hands faster and faster

faster and faster and faster still

one hundred cups of coffee

one thousand pounds of heaven

one million gallons of gasoline

we drive we drive we drive into the night

blindfolded behind the wheel of a jetplane

we crash into morning like a plane into a building

like an alaskan summer we live for six months straight

and try to forget the dark days we dive into

we are lost and kind of happy

we are lost and kinda something

but it’s time to call it a night

i gotta be up early

and i’ve been up all night watching old home movies

of us traveling through Love

the trees blur by outside the car window

but the scent of the evergreens is lost on film



i am a country at war with myself
i am removing my legs with my arms
and my arms with my teeth
and reassembling myself to resemble
someone i know longer recognize

that’s the point of this
you douse yourself in kerosene
strike a match
and bam
incendiary symphony
that’s what i do
that’s what i have always done

you are a blur in drunken traffic
you are as fleeting as america
and as blissful
as it is advertised
to be
you are a great machine of love
and i feed nickel after nickel
into your slots
sipping on this free drink
in some shoddy casino
in nowhere, nevada

and we are alone together
well, we are on camera
so there is that

we go together
like war and violence
like those black and white dots
on television screens
constantly frantically in motion
just pushing aimless amongst the static
never still
but never touching
that is you and i
two atoms
forever in motion
of stopping
two atoms
of stopping
of stopping



if my skin vanished like a styrofoam plate on a hot burner
if my muscles began to wriggle down my body like slugs escaping
if my veins and arteries and capillaries
all wound up like a tape measure into my heart
and then i loaded my heart into a potato gun
and shot it straight up into space

if i plucked out both of my eyes with my fingers
unscrewed the top of my mason jar head removed my brain
and donated it in the name of scientific progress
if i tore off my tendons and ligaments
filled my lungs with hydrogen tied them tight with a string at one end
and let them float off into space like two really creepy balloons
if i made my intestines into a giant rubber band ball
and kicked it into the atlantic ocean at night
if i threw my liver my spleen my kidneys my stomach
my bladder my diaphragm my apendix my pancreas
into a shopping cart and pushed it over a cliff

if i stood before you some strangely joyous skeleton
would you still love me?
where does the soul reside?
where is the heart, the actual heart, the
heart of the heart?
where does the soul reside?
i will remove the phalanges
the metacarpals the carpals that type this poem
i will rip out the pharynx the larynx that sings to you
to try and find where the song comes from
where is the heart of the heart?

what is the ghost hand that squeezes the heart like a stress ball?

what generator generates the static electricity of a kiss?

these questions aren’t easy
these are questions for skeletons
and i am warm and typing and breathing
and beating and thinking and blinking and blinking
and i am no skeleton today
but maybe i should be practicing
going to skeleton classes trying to figure out
how to be a skeleton
how love is eternal when on a long enough timeline
most of us are already dead
most of us are skeletons
unprepared to answer these skeleton questions of love and loss.



today was a cold day in denver. a few days ago they predicted we would get a crazy snow storm over the weekend and then nothing happened when they predicted it to. everyone was posting about it on social media posting cutesy memes and basically saying “where was that storm you guys said we were getting?” and then boom. it hit us. i decided to brave it and went up to boulder with a friend which was ill-advised but i was feeling adventurous. sometimes you have to weigh life over caution. anyways it was great. saw some good friends, drank tea and played a lot of cards against humanity. i wonder how erratic these weather patterns are or if they’ve always been like that. i think about the end of the world by way of us destroying the planet. i think about what that would look like. i try to judge the level of chaos that there would be. i imagine giant megastores being robbed of their merchandise, i imagine flaming cars in city streets, i imagine i have watched too much television. then i imagine staying home for the end of the world. the instinct to survive in humans is such a double-edged sword. when we’re stripped naked we protect our hearts with our clenched fists. i heard that would we could possibly make the planet unsustainable in a predictable 30 years. i never checked the accuracy of that because it depressed me that i could see it being true. it depresses me that our police officers make national news for allegations of shooting people. it depresses me that race is an issue in america in 2015. just hear that sentence. race is an issue in america in 2015. someday our children will say one of two things. one, your generation had a lot of race issues. or two, your generation fought against a lot of race issues. we are so saturated with all of this, we don’t have time to think about it. i’m complaining about social media on a blog site. oh man it looks like i am one of those loud hypocrites. i think the snow is getting to my head a bit. i digress. let’s go folks. my burner friends say 2015 could be a year of a lot of action. i think we can prove my burner friends right. because race is still an issue in america. because sex is still an issue in america. because animosity is still alive and we are still separated humans. oh i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to get political. we were supposed to be talking about the weather.



morning, you sonofabitch

you sonofabitch
you’ve ran off with my pants
the white light of snow
through the window
claws at my eyes
as i awake
to realize
i do not have my car

oh God
the children through the wall
their screams of joy
like nails scratching at
my styrofoam skull
each hurricane tumble
a year off my life

i do not have my car
and my blood is made of whiskey
today is a beautiful fucking unicorn
that i don’t want to chase
but god dammit my bag
is in my car
and there’s two hour parking
where i parked
and this poem will probably be
the minute too late
as i arrive to blaring tow truck
eating my four-wheeled livelihood
like a black hole, a dark star
and this asteroid floats through space
pulled by all the gravities of the universe
hungover as shit
and not gonna lie

smiling at the demon i was
and the wretched angel i awoke as
this morning



all my life i’ve leaned on my words and my heart like brick and mortar
so when that wall caved in
i found myself without a roof above my head
my rough hands may look like fists but in truth
they are just assuming the fetal position
i don’t know who i am when my home feels unfamiliar
we talk but it’s like a foreign film with the subtitles turned off

i don’t know who you are anymore
and that’s probably my fault
but there’s no reason to look at me like i’ve left
when my back is breaking trying to hold this roof up
and so is yours and i know that my knees are bending
and you are holding on to the heavy end
but we’ve gotta let go and let this crash down around us
maybe we’ll find that the open night sky provides the space we need
fresh air to breathe to provide relief
from the carbon monoxide around us
you pulled the batteries out of the detector
but i sat there and watched you do it

sometimes being in the moment
means playing cleanup for our past selves
and i think to myself
who was i then and how could i let it come to this
but then i wonder if my past self
was just overwhelmed with my past self
maybe i should live in the moment
and bring my walls in close for a while
but those tiny homes have terrible acoustics
and there’s never enough rooms in them
like a heart with just one chamber
and my heart has one thousand chambers
and there’s no ‘no’ on my vacancy sign
and i’ll leave the light on for ya
but i can’t promise you i’ll always be home
because i can’t provide bed and breakfast
when i’m sleeping on the floor starving to death
i’ve got places to meet and people to be
i’ve got a fatal case of wanderlust
and i know you want to join me on this flight
but it’s one way and red eye and i’ve read your ticket
you’re going somewhere else and you’re gonna love it there

sometimes the anchors that have kept us steady during heavy storms
become the ball and chain that keep us from the cosmos
have a safe flight. i love you more than anything. send me a postcard.



the bees are dying

the bees are dying
we are killing them
and i don’t know how to save them

the idea of extinction
is foreign to me
i can’t really
wrap my head around
how something can just
cease to exist

i mean
i understand things die
but an entire species
just gone

i just want bees
to always exist

they say
when the colonial ships
washed up on the shore
that the natives couldn’t see them
simply because they didn’t
understand the concept
of a ship

with bees it feels like
the opposite
i know they exist
and i understand what they are
little yellow and black creatures
flying through the air
collecting pollen
those are bees
i know that

i need to accept
that maybe you are a bee
and you could disappear from existence

i’ll wander the streets of denver
a crazy bearded prophet
telling cautionary tales of when you
landed on my flower
and the pollen i gave you
and how you disappeared
despite the fact i knew you
and understood what you were
but you’ll be gone
heels clacking down the hall of extinction
and no one will believe me

i just want bees
to always exist

i just need bees
to always exist



i have swallowed every instrument there is.

the beating drums the wailing saxophone the
screeching violins the heavy bass the cello the oboe the sitar
the bells the woodwinds the brass the entire gospel choir
all sucked into my lungs and now i cannot hide their noise

their sounds within me needs to be heard
and tonight the world is deaf ears
a silent film without the cue cards
without the charming player piano
just the sound of clicking reels and nobody
no one hears the hurricane of sound in my lungs
no one could be bothered

sometimes people don’t laugh, she says,
and i hear that, i hear that more than most things
lately i just don’t know where my head’s been
sometimes people don’t laugh
and i remember sometimes people don’t cry at funerals
sometimes people spend 100 years on this planet
and accomplish close to nothing
but they make for okay fertilizer, someone said

i am in a very small way a refuge
forced to leave my homeland in fear of paralysis
home is where the heart is but where is the heart?
blindfolded spun around with a dart in my hand i pull back
and i hit it dead on
right on the target

i sure as fuck hope so