Archived Poems

this is more like painting today only putting on the television filling out some papers driving you to college going for chicken and waffles all make believe

there is a point and it is being driven in by your father there is this guy on tv yelling there is this other guy on the tv yelling louder or maybe faster there is a point and it’s being driven in somewhere as if we were all alone

the thing with writing is everybody does it it is going to be awhile it’s the last for those who do not want to be connected it’s a book being written about us being written about you

just another day in clearwater so close make time go play in the sand

nearly woke up made it thru the day anyway fit to be drawn shoes on a stick figure stuck in earth’s orbit surrender to the moonlight wait for the taxi home  

tears by the dozen someone is counting backwards a refill the empty glass filled with trouble deep breathing in a coma shades and textures tactile indifference believe you said in what i wonder shifts the shape poverty in 3 dimensions takes a train sits in back plays the harmonica you never really got paid

move there and you will never have to take another vacation

hums like a small engine the sound of music only you can make now it echoes moves from room to room skips a couple you need to come back and re-appear maybe everywhere touching you then it breaks

turn it off shut it down rest in peace remember the day you came here and the day you left

the peppermint tea you left is so good add some honey hot water and sip until get use to not seeing you in the morning afternoon and night