forgotten poems found in my journal under November sun

August/October 6 (combined to one poem) skin-tight blue jeans After Washington Post article: “The ‘blue’ for blue jeans was first made 6,200 years ago in Peru” 1. You cry for wisdom, oh Solomon. We cry, let us doubt and mourn. And the history of education is a tectonic drift—some lava is more than couch cushions. We’ll [...]

fire worms

​​Fire worms, I want to eat them. Burn my face alive so that I will finally feel silence—a scalded tongue, drinking yellow-orange organisms as if coal could help us hear the hum of cicadas and crickets. The humans murmur, complain of cold, and the moon sits round and dumb, but his mind is on the [...]

gelid pews

we feast:  taco pie,  hazelnut-soy-latte (iced), white wine with dangling fruits, chive-French-fries con ranch, butter, butterflies. I wear old-and-dirty clothes, eat chips, like I'm young enough to die, but I'll do it anyways. Two chairs rock, wobble to-and-fro like God himself sits and chews tobacco. Rine and dine, fine wine. Single women in tight get-ups, [...]

just more milliennialism

Modernity is the waterfall's milk as an iced hazelnut latte, and the white-washed stems are glow sticks to break from their mother and watch the veins tear. It's not as if the waterfall itself is made of coffee, but it's what we see, and what we think of solitude is not mundane but relief. Four [...]

fish stories #1

Right before I went to sleep, I had to whisper "fish stories" three times, just so I wouldn't forget. My mind always races, like most of ours does, right before I shut off, and I remembered what Shawn's dad said to him in Psych, that fish stories are always embellished. This isn't something new, just [...]


Sometimes you wake up thirsty and go to drink and it quenches your thirst so greatly you fall back into a deep sleep. But other times, you can't stop drinking and the drinking makes it worse and you read but the cat gives you one small scratch along your stomach, vertical and sly. And you [...]