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from picture to picture,

and a few of your favorite things,

“What are you doing with your life?”

 

feeling so alone i surf the faces of strangers

hoping any of them would read my poems

and fall for me,

 

i give in

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Edges of My Moustache

the edges of my moustache

turn blonde like my F ather’s,

we’ve been shaving our heads together

since I was 6,

and my high school id,

looks like his with brighter colors,

bushy hair and all.

I must say,

my Father is a handsome man

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Do You Feel Me?

and this Voodoo that I make for you?

over the american rivers and roads,

do you hear me chant?

and shoot this drink?

the wind in the chimes on your windowsill?

the rumble in your attic that creaks over the beams?

 

can you hear me on the Southern Wind?

“all those wild and reckless breezes”

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I Used to Consider Myself a Serious Writer

then I came down from the high,

took a shower,

and had a chicken sandwich for breakfast

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Upon My Wall

a record,

broken in the shapes of faces,

turned away,

 

i see you

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“…Like Clockwork”

each time i promise i am coming back

to this, i fall to pieces again.

i make all these brittle promises in my dreams,

and when i wake up, i have crushed them, rolling in my sleep

 

“Does anyone ever get this right?”

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Discipline

i don’t have much

discipline these days,

there’s no one around

to spank me

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