1,000

severing ties
after years spent roaming gardens, galleries, dive bars and billards halls,
a thousand cigarettes and secrets spilled in alleyways between us,
telling me exactly how much the world owes you,
recounting everything you’ve done to deserve what you have,
confessing your darkest sins,
proclaiming your innocence,
raving about your talents, hopes, dreams – disappointments.
I was your shoulder,
your brother, your blackhole.
You were my Brutus.
This isn’t the first time and it wouldn’t have been the last,
This isn’t the first time and what a drain to have to put your pieces back together again,
This isn’t the first time, but the difference is,
I’m wrapped in soul-encompassing love now,
so for all I care, you and the rest of your world can go straight to hell.

March Means It’s Almost Spring

Wide open spaces, a thing I’d never known before,

Held court in cafés and nightclubs.

Took lovers in backseats in darkened alleyways,

And in tiny rooms, crammed full of books and secrets, and one too many half-smoked packs of cigarettes.

Now I have half the second floor to rattle around in and my soul love to keep warm at night,

Still I crave more wide open spaces.

More vacations,

Endless wilderness and deserts stretching far beyond the eye can see,

And the sea rushing in to mingle with sand beneath our feet.

I’ve swallowed ashes and spit blood for this,

(I let their words define me, let

fear guide each step, let the past haunt and the future consume my every thought),

I’ve died and been reborn for this.

Wide open spaces,

To grow up and grow old with you in.

Ascension

Earned this, countless bruises inside and outside to show for it.

Happiness wrapped in love, grounded in truth, stitched to the essence of your very being.

Fear is a stranger and trust sleeps at your side.

Tea cools on the balcony as soft dreams await, accept it –

Sparkling floors and no ceilings, quiet drives through the countryside on mini-vacations,

Singing and dancing after too much mezcal,

Kissing like teenagers
under mistletoe.

The smoky skies and endless nights of the city banished to a reliquary of

youthful indescretions, painful lessons, and fond memories to look back on.

Gift

Venus and Cupid – Circle of Jacopo Sansovino (Courtesy of The Getty Center)

Give me
endless adoration, say my name tongue-filled with passion
Feed me
thirst for exploration, wander my mind, your untamed woodland.
Drown me
in a sea of raging devotion and cry in ire as I drift away.
This body
on display, on my terms only.
Goddess in a temple, come forth and worship me.
It’s not enough
the last bit of brandy,
the last kiss, the last touch,
the last sunset watched.
Bring me
the unattainable,
memories wrapped in silk and naïevité forever.
a field of “I’d nevers,”
Blood, sweat, the dreams you covet
Give it all, so we can burn it and start again.

Jack Parsons

Beyond it, moving through the cosmos unbounded,
Test it with a few vinegar phrases, but those wounds have been healed now for ages,
what’s your motive anyhow? we’re just strangers with a familiar sense of each other’s coding,
How much progress occurs by way of quiet judgement?
Fuck it. We’re all hypocrites, but try to feel it,
Can’t relate? Well that’s alright,
just sit steady while the angel launches.

Connection

(talk to me) so cheap all it takes is some stimulating conversation.
Listen in intently and you might just lure out secrets I didn’t even know existed.
Is it love if you find yourself falling every fifteen seconds? Is is real,
does it matter if you both can feel it?
To be frank, can’t quite relate to my peers (never could),
and I don’t expect to be understood by the many anymore, just leaving this behind for the few,
the bleeding hearts of the future to try to decipher,
on a cold night, when the wind howls and they’re searching for signs that they aren’t completely alone,
that the sadness isn’t forever,
that the void won’t devour them whole.