66/365 : words for free

words for free!
words for free!

i'm like a kid
trolling NYC
in the 20's
selling papers
except only asking for
winks and
deep grateful gazes
as compensation.

i know you see me.
i see you seeing me
seeing you.

there's no doubt
in my chest
or worry in
belly that
you need
these words
to unravel
in your hands.

that you're a
better man
with mysterious
love scrolled up
in your pocket.

but someone's
gotta pay
the esoteric
courier.

she has a belly
to feed, and
dignity--
desires
beyond winks
and stares.

there's gotta be
a line somewhere,
between for free
and for freedom,
and she's the one
who's gotta draw it,
even if
she's just a kid.

65/365 : be somebody

i'm sure i smoke too many cigarettes
to be the woman i imagine masters her
destiny and makes money making art and
isn't too far off her rocker to render revolution
with words and shimmery hued fabrics wrapping
children in bigger dreams than even they sketched out
that day we all sat by the river and watched the ducks migrate
south in their brilliant natural way of going where they can stay
most alive. sometimes, i simply envy the ducks.

64/365 : you are what you are

i want my brain back
my body, my bodaciousness
without all this blubber
i want cutting strength
that slashes the excess away
and leaves me crystallized
like eyes that love so pure
and deep that you can see
the answer to everything
inside them like a cave
of rubies and pillow-throws
lounging in decadent knowing
lounging and digging
and composting the ache
of mortality with the simple
shovel of reality
saying only this,
surrender your resistance
this is it
blubber and all

63/365 : self-love is non-censorship, not fearing the truth of the moment and how i find myself in it

my brain
is steaming
off last
night's mega
drugs my best
friend and
i invented
the term
mega drugs
the only thing
on my to
do list today
is mega drugs
just kidding
i'm applying
for the low
income ticket
to burning
man let's see
if i can
knock this
one out
ps i don't
actually mess
with mega
drugs i'm
just hung
over and
groggy and
in the mood
for silly
sentences
that exceed
your standards
of comfort
or permissive
ness

62/365 : immortality

there's no amount of likability
no amount of love
or dogma
or poetry or orgasms
or money or freedom
or even children
that can make me live forever

but I will still collect them all--
hoard them like pennies
for an antique shop in the future

someone will find my collection one day
sandwiched between a dirt-scuffed derby rocking horse
and a tin box of indigenous postcards
and say
i'm rare and
worth something

i'll be dead and sold
to someone old
who thinks they've found
the answer

61/365 : 2014 state of the mind

i don't recognize my mind
inside the pinball machine of everything shouting
SEE ME SEE ME SEE ME SEE ME


c o l l a p s i n g
e  n  e  r  g  y

h       e        l        p


there is a crow flying across a grey-blue sky
and i am missing it nearly all the time
nearly all the time
nearly all the time
nearly all the time
nearly all the time

nearly all the time

60/365 : To East Forest: Thank you for being a moment to remember that I would have missed had you not struggled (for love) to be here in this way

it is underrated--
the sound of a low voice
whisper-ordering
another drink,
collecting his tab,
quietly giving the last of his
pocket change
to the counter.

the murmur--
it is soft and hits
the open moment of
the music's whole-beat rest
as the tumblers chirp,
and the manhattans shake, just barely.

this is for you, if you wonder
if there is still a love somewhere
gentle enough to listen
to piano-hope hums
strung like stars
in the in-betweens of
darkness and cello.