Category: Poetry

I bear witness to a different culture, like living in another country, where skin color and sexuality define a person, of willful ignorance and hurtful actions. I bear witness and am subjected to, a redneck calling a man a “flaming homosexual” right before she climbs into her lifted F-350 and burns a gallon of fuel …

What (something observed by the mind but not known) do (instead of sitting or standing without desire) we (the collective of beings we call humanity) know (the opposite of yes, because knowledge is power, yet ignorance is bliss) ? (!)

I do not care     for the self inflicted pains of humanity     in the concrete jungle of society. My apathy wants to say more     about humanity’s condition and mine. So distant from it all I feel. A hope for a brighter tomorrow brings     conversations that dictate what is right But I just don’t care enough     to …

I saw her on the street turned around and told her to get in she took the money and asked what I wanted her name to be so I gave her your name, saw your face in her looks and your body instead of hers I took her back to my rented room and watched …

Her affections are manufactured humidity, stagnant smell in a world not fit for the putrid sweetness that announce her presence. She is an animated character, with perfectly drawn lines, scars criss crossing pale flesh, tear drop impressions of blood littering the ground around her feet. Sadness is her air with depression her fuel, we all …

I am the product of drunken sex, of parents that never knew love and a childhood laced with pain. Never a place to call home, my parent’s marriage quickly broken. Memories are all that remain. Forward moving, I build from the remains and find validation in the act of sex, never realizing that I am …

A lover for a rotation of the moon nothing more, consumption may be filling but just a taste is always better, save your simple words for a simple soul because this is complicated and my mind is an intricate tangle of webs left by the souls of spiders that I stole as a child and …

A sunny day alone in the woods, I think of the time my father walked by my side. Down the trails we went, when I was just a boy. Time spent with my father, doing things men do together. Walking up the steep hills, jumping over fallen logs, stomping through mud. Laughing together and breaking …

click, click clack click       click tick, tock tip tap click       tap tick, tock tick, tock tip, tap click click click clack tip, tap tip       tap tip               tip tip                             tip tock

His leg          l            e              a                n                  s                  against the chair next to him. He leaves it there,       using arms to propel him       to the counter       asking for ice. And I notice       his     shoes          do not match.