once, driving to college, i rolled my car in a bank of snow.
it was a harmless accident.
it was soft, no broken glass, nothing dented, twisted or banged.
when they rolled the car back on to it's wheels,
i saw all the things i had packed my car with
to bring to my dorm toss around in the car.
three years later i read ted berrigan describe his spirit
in a poem.
i think 'my spirit is like the things in my car that day.'

the cursor moves like a silver bird
i stand in my 24th year
the fall happens now
water comes down my face
as i inhale
i submerge and exhale
something disctracts me
i read autumn by garcia richards
on poets.org

im bigger than most clocks

not fitting in time it's funny

how everyone is stupid

i thought

short fiction, novels, easier

than poetry

24 ft horse

unladen wires

explode me

hoodie

hands were a subject at work today.

i wanted to put my hands in your skin.

spinelessly

i feel large flat wide headed

large hands shouldering

coffins. no-think.

i know you think.

move your brain out the peep-hole

walk the hall a ghost

and pound on the elevator

pound with no-hand.

the man inside deserves

raw lettuce.

fall classic

during October i create a bone-self
i plan on dividing
needing something that won't split
so easily undefined

i'll admit i'm drinking beer

that life is defiant or innocent
or both

but i now have reached a threshold
and have to split

upon myself
some sort of stupid promise

to be a little bitch
and quietly say fuck you a lot

needs to be a simple
and possible
and result in layoffs

Change Jar

she thinks 'coins are interesting.'
she talks to the universe.
she says, "i like 'he thinks 'wait till they pass'' vs. 'he thinks, 'wait till they pass'.'"
she talks to her heart.
she lies face down in bed.
she listens to her heart.
her toe says something funny.
her computer opens itself.
green ribbon fills the ceiling.
green ribbon forms ceiling-hung clouds.
the clouds rain.
she leaves her apartment.
she thinks 'i'm lonely.'
she goes to her roof.
she talks to her universe.

adirondack chair

he sits on a shack porch
he looks down a hill
he looks at the sky
he sees trees, then sky
then a white moon
he closes one eye
he sees the moon move
against a tree
he moves his head back
he sees the moon below his head
the earth tilts up
a large period of time
exits the earth
the large period of time
touches the trees
he gets up and walks down the hill
into the earth
a white house grows into the earth
the walls fall on him
and he slips through each window
until a wind fills his chest
he rides the wind to a tree
he sits in the tree
the wind moves his hair
the trees exist in his eye
he is the trees
he puts his hand on a piece of glass

apartment monday

arthur sleeps from 5pm to 8pm
arthur watches gossip girl
arthur watches monday night football
arthur eats half baked
arthur drinks purple haze

sidewalks

air arrives in Manhattan
air travels from the Hudson River
to union square
air moves a person's hair
the person moves the hair
with their hand
the person buys an apple

all the builders ever

i feel like i am distracted a lot

i try to serve something

my apartment was built before WWII

i don't know how that relates to the appearance of the floors

i like the floors. they feel soft, but they are wood

there is a spray for the wood floors on the desk in the living room

inside the bottle it looks like creamy syrup