what we whisper

we breathe our lungs
to full capacity
and still have not taken

a full breath

we skin our knees
on every carpeted kneeler

with no repentance

we wake and we go
into the world we’ve built
without thinking of

the bones that hold it up

we strive and die
we lie and we struggle
and all the while we

whisper to ourselves

that we need
to start our lives


Spirit In Seven Shapes

starting clean and
watching things get messy

one piece falls
then the next
then the next

juggling one piece
keep it spinning
one eye on the next

slow fall and spin
connect and clear

hard drop and clear
waiting for the next piece

keep pace with each piece
as the pieces fall
in sync with the pace you keep

learning to clean
learning to watch
learning to adapt and

seeing the world
adapt with you

learning to breathe
learning to move
and learning to

accept defeat when
you know you’re defeated

but always starting again

better placement
better timing
better ways to

piece together the pieces
that seem to fit nowhere

but still




jerusalem imagined

standing at the gates of jerusalem
and watching its towers billowing
with dew

the sands have moved and the
world has tilted
in the direction of oblivion

standing at the gates of my home
and wanting to walk inside
but then the world

makes me turn my back
toward the world
i have built

standing at the gates of
the imagined jerusalem
that i have never seen

i walk into my imagined home
and embrace the world
tilted and askew

made from ashes and built
with love i move into
my images


there was a time when
i would have taken years
to make decisions

to plot my course through life

to carefully select
every action
and know the cost of every moment

now the days know their own way

now the plans seem laughable
and the moments of importance
that i carefully plotted

have grown in themselves
and know their own importance

and it has nothing to do with me

the years i would have taken
to make the long decisions
have taken me along with them

in my most important moments
i was never really there

the years and moments know the
way they want to go

and even if we don’t speak
their language
we still follow their footsteps

after the hills burned

i saw the fields
catch fire
and wave in black circles

the flames crept
around the hills
in wide rivers

slowly turning
the tall grass
into coal pathways

the fire
ate the hills
and came down

into the valley
where it
burned itself out

now the hills
have shed the black
of their carbon sleep

and wave a
deeper green
in the warm wind

be now of quiet mind

silent thorns quivering in
the deep gray matter quicklime

sinking sinking sinking
into dissolving pits
between gated neurons

thinking machines and
power hungry vegetation

powered by the scorched
earth prototype and

typecast by the living sun
typeset and written into dust

coding in the quiet mind
of the double spiral helix

sinking sinking sinking
into downrung ladders
climbing up the way down