gambler, gunslinger, dentist

situation made me a gambler.
lost in love.

fear of death made me a gunslinger.
two pistols in time.

your smile made me a dentist.
licking the backs of your teeth.

let me ask you a question.
do you even enjoy the life you've been thrust into?


holding my hands, rocking back and forth

I don't understand the lyrics,
but I would still fight for you.

We've all given up,
but we are all just dumb dumbs do dumb things.

The headwinds have nothing on us.
And heaven is bullshit disguised as bunkbeds.

It's no use pretending hurt doesn't hurt.
One of us will die before one of us.

Kendra Jean, I just texted your old number, but I don't want to see ya.
Lose me in Los Angeles, but you must know this poem.

Please enjoy me responsibly,
because I am not a smart lover, nor am I yours.

Double your memory when
I am poisoning your magazines and your cats.

Have I found you, American little lady?
Where Kentucky kicks my ass.

Like this poem, I give up.
So stop stopping or pop up.


How do revolutions happen?

I want one.
I want it within me. 
I want it to be loud.
And on fire. 

The first time
that you kiss me.
Youth is an awful sound.
Feel my poems
above the ground.

Blessed be the mystery
of everything except love,
because love is a time machine
like smelly shoes. 

Now my whiffle bat has struck
and I see the world so differently. 
How much surprise can my world take?
The river of happiness until I breathe my last breath.  

Oh fuck,
the day is done,
and the night is scared,
but I will be there
no matter what cares. 


Prospective vs. Perspective

there is always a new noun
who verbs into your life
all pretty adjectives and giggles,
a new feminine pronoun 
giving stomachs butterflies before
dancing out the tipperary. 


these days, those dude blues

I don't even want to really date someone.
I just really want a friend with benefits who will laugh at my lame jokes.

There is nothing we can do about life.
Except dance.
It's too late to figure out.
I want to be loud.
But I also want to be polite.

I don't even want to really date someone.
I just really want a friend with benefits who will give me blowjobs.

There is nothing we can do about how we feel.
Except accept certain things.
Like regret and the fight in right eyes.
Left with lessons and lookbacks.
In which we go back in time, time and again.

I don't want to love someone ever again.
I just really want to be reminded that I can, like it is a tiny door of possible.


Dirty iPhone Screen

I take off my sweater.
I feel so much better.
Should I not listen to late?
But, please, let me go pee.

I forget things more now.
I remember things then.
Life and restless ways.
Let's sing of happy sorrow.

Rhyme with me in time.
Start poems for my heart.
Because some nights still haunt me.
I'm fine but my past is not.

Some nights, I fall through days.
Life gets late and love goes away.
But hey, that's okay.
Just write it down for another death.

You still salsa dance with in me.
But it is only but a dream.
I forget the hours.
And my body deceives me.

I still feel young.
I still feel in love.
But I am above it now.
Under it how.



down the pike

Our future will align before another time.

Or my eyes will turn to bones.

Either way, we have to ask why.


feel free to stab me

I have many scars.
and I just added two more;
one on my face,
one on my ego, slightly. 

I wish I cared more,
especially about soul disfigurement. 
That's a thing, right?
Well, now it is. 

Feel free to use that,
and feel free to stab me,
because it doesn't hurt anymore,
even though I wish it did. 


Marfa, TX

there is a skunk walking down the middle of the street
like he owns the place. 
there is an air here
like something odd is about to happen.
that feeling is perpetual and artistic in its stay.

I went down to that town in the desert
where all the aliens go and I met some folks in a teepee.
about an hour from Mexico,
this is where all the weird artists go. 
I want to stay alive here for a year or a year.

my fucking hotel was haunted,
and it was used for movies in the 70s.
you might come and you might laugh like me, but you won't have fun,
unless you're a weirdo or a skunk or a carport or a man from washington
who said he is chasing his son or the sun, I don't really know. 



the largest sea monster

the largest sea monster is me,
but I can't swim in your dreams,
because I am tethered to the shore
like a dumb man, thinking that I am
more than I am. 

I am not. 

sweating in a red shirt hoodie,
I am just a lost soul who
doesn't know if souls are real
and wishing they were
while working to eat.

I am.

not much more
than a fool
thinking about love
outside of love
within love. 

maybe. 

I am more
and maybe I am less than
the devil
who paints blueprints
on my shoes.

where I go.

deep in the goodbye
of time,
outside of where we
call time minutes and moments,
besides memories. 

I will eat you.

while you float on your back
wishing poetry didn't exist
and looking up at the black stars
of tomorrow, hoping tomorrow were real,
but it isn't.


Poem

I wasn't born for anything.
Wasn't born to say anything. 
I am just here until I am gone.
Doing stuff in between those bookends. 
Like writing pointlessly.
And falling in love endlessly. 
Hoping there is more to this world. 
Hoping maybe I can find it. 


a little bit of lightning and delayed thunder

I could see it coming.
just like the storm crackling in the distance.
it's okay, I am the horizon.
always have been.

when the sky opened up.
she counted.
the strike was close.
3 miles [away] from my heart.

dive bar mentality.
and a lifetime of letdowns.
prepare a poet for turning laughter into weather.
and quick recovery.

after all, there was nothing much.
but a false flood and a sun shower.
it's okay, I am the horizon.
heading west with the day, anyway.

it would've been nice, though.
to stand still, karate chop the raindrops.
coming off the awning.
while she pointed too long at Led Zeppelin.

my unrealistic shit.
has caught up with my age.
it's okay, I am the delayed thunder.
and they will always be a little bit of lightning.


tea against memoirs

be my radio.
the sound of something good.
a song that makes you sing in the car.
newness and air.
moving on and up.
smiling over the highway.
where birds go to dance.
and where I will write.
new songs about the ground.
and where it goes.
when I am flying silently.
in the same direction.
as the future.
but better than hope.
because there is no more hiding.
turn the dial.
dial me down.
give me a good chorus.
and spill everything.
making the past wet and sticky.
something to throw away.
today.


indent

I stopped checking.
what a modern monstrosity.

You know where to find me.
If you want me.
I am buried beneath our pasts.

I only write with a pen.
I only run in the rain.

I'm going to LA and not coming back.
I want to burn bridges and set cities on fire.


the back of a bird

I asked 
what do you think
what do you mean
with a question mark on both.

you said
you mean me
in a dive bar
with an exclamation mark. 

I grew
confused and hard
with the sight
and the sighing elipses. 

the ninebday
and the kind size cigarette
but when we where here
what?