the butterflies flap their wings

inside of me

and my initial instinct

is to deem this act distinct

and separate

from what the mind measures

as "pleasure"

but the more I feel into it

the more I am literate

at reading the riper way of

reasoning with these

supposed nervous tickles,

thus realizing theirodynamic ripples

are more sweet

than bitter,

more savory

than sour

and only necessary for supreme

victory

and responsible wielding

of limitless

power

this and any hour

I used to know what it meant to be

a beautiful catastrophe

but now that I have crashed and burned

I know there's no lesson to be learned

from scabs and scars and shattered dreams

now there's nothing left to do but scream

and tell the whole world what it means

to be a volcano out of steam

dormant deflated and obscene

I'm nothing but a trampoline

bent beneath the weight of things

I'm nothing but a melody

singing sharply out of key

It never happens the way you see it in movies- the long soliloquy of tumbling words followed by the quiet sobs.

No, it's more likely to be

words are cut off

with tears

choking

every syllable

words strangled

at the top of the throat

words stopped up

with crying jags

like cotton stuffing

in a soda pop bottle

that's been shaken

and nearly poured out.

i guess i died a long time ago

i guess i didn't notice that blood was no longer flowing through my veins or

that i was no longer breathing

i guess i didn't notice when i bit my fingernails down to the quick or when i stopped blinking to refresh my eyes

i didn't even realize when my body turned from glorious green

to raging reds and yellows

now i'm dead and i've lost my leaves

you have a way of doing that to me

Wait for nothing

Don't wait for anything

Life simply happens

However, you are the one to give it course

We live our entire lives waiting for something

But we don't realize that

When we don't expect anything,

Circumstances and destiny were the ones

Looking for us

Wait for nothing

Don't wait to obtain something back from others

Just wait for nothing

Take responsibility of your own actions

And never disturb the flow of others lives

Unless it is for love or natural death

Wait for nothing

And live the present

The past is dead and the future does not exist

There are more than a thousand reasons to say

Anything happens for a reason

But reasons don't mean anything

In a life that is already taken its course

Everything is predetermined

However, this does not mean that you're following a script

You are allowed to improvise

You are allowed to make this a comedy or a tragedy

Please don't make it a drama

Make it a journey

A journey to Nirvana

Through the mountains or the beach

Escape Samsara

In the end, you'll know what I meant

We never look for reasons for something that happens

In the same sense we don't look for death

Or we don't decide to look for someone to love

But any of those always end up walking by our own stroll

Wait for nothing

Enjoy what you have

Write poetry to love

Read poetry to live

Make others read you poems

Teach them to read them once you're gone

Life is poetry

And life

Waits for nothing

It already happened.

DA 2015

anarchic borderland,

drawn out by curves and angles,

patrolled by piercings and inks and fabrics,

a multitude of scars and unexplained bruises

simultaneously, the center of pleasure

and pits of torment,

the prisoner inside taps SOS against a cage,

looking beyond security through blurred windows

purveyor of history,

a factory of misassembled genes,

functioning, proper,

yet still somehow wrong

still, despite the bile or the lines,

or the late nights spent staring,

pursuit of the ever-elusive change,

sufficient. incredible. thank you.

What to do when love

Runs dry? I can take a long walk

Past those special places

And sweep them away

Except I just cannot

It's too much to let go

Open the shoebox that's

Stowed away

Take out those golden letters

And re-read each one

The highlighted phrases

The jokes that tickled

It's too much to let go

Clear away those old photos

Screaming as the pain hits

I thought about shredding them

Along with the letters

Tied with red ribbon

Something pulls me back

It's too much to let go

I head to the bathroom

Throw out all those smells

But there on the mirror

A message scrawled in lipstick

And it all floods back

It's too much

Too much to let go

I cry in despair but need

A drink

But lying there is your glass

I smell your lips on it

And kiss it

But it just hurts so much

You're too much to let go

I call you up in floods

You rush to me

I fall to the floor with a sigh

Because I just can't

Can't let you go

And there you are at my door

And you're too much

To let go

You're the kind of kid

That miracles happen to

Where everything turns out for the better

I'm the kind of kid

That tragedies happen to

Where everything turns out for the worse

A kiss is just ink.

The tongue

serves as a sharp pen,

which tears

the skin

Both are the marks of love.

Yet both are the killers of hearts.

The serpent of love

Poisons us all

Some of us fall

Some of us love

Does not matter at all

For love

is just a stain of ink in the lips

Staining the soul.

DA 2013

Friday

high noon coming

the water sheets the life below

like glass

on the Sound where

all is disconnected then

connected by true carbon

the Sun burning pure above

the whales

the Moon moving the tide

just so

all the electricity of time

burning through the board

and running volts from

foot to shore

in a web flash-bulbed

and captured

like moments in music

moments sealed within

a kiss fronting

a city at night

all the deaths on pause

all the goodness

released across the

water

electric blue across

the glass

pushing

stretching

reaching

across time broken

by speed

paused in the snapshot

of knowing

we can

take it with

us.