As you b

you're so clever
you're the cleaver
and I'm the meat

as you beat
as you bea
as you be
as you b

you'll recover
you'll cover
you'll take my creat

as you best
as you bes
as you be
as you b

you'll steal
you'll kill
I become like the wind

as you bend
as you ben
as you be
as you b

To Patrick

I look at him
and I want to shoot myself
be run over by semis
cut into a million different pieces
gouge my eyeballs
slit my wrists

instead I’m here
burning the midnight oil
putting my hand in the fire
and watching it turn to sulfer

His cheekbones
cut the wood
of my cedar heart
and splinter my locked chambers
I’ve given up
this is my surrender

I’m here
after spilling the midnight oil
over what I was
and who I’ll be

for you’re kissing him
he’s taken you in
you’re younger
you’re dumber
one day you’ll split

Latifundia

I cannot do this anymore
we cannot survive alone
caught in the persist
against love’s resist
I’m torn asunder
by today’s modern wonders
of men, called gladiators
but these battles are feeble
old times call to me
stricken misery
marveled in marble fantasy
I fall back
into my cave
trying to escape
latifundia

Brick Roads

I'm not worthy of a love
that spaces the beats
I've been taught to think
I'm not allowed
to return to empty space
just leave your money
on the end stand
leave your love at the door
I've been broken
on brick roads
shallow pot holes
that have been used
by pirates
on the seven seas
feigning
seven wonders
someone save me

New Heart

From degage
to new heart
my being slips through
old saloon doors
with my spurs making
marks in the floor
I spent too much time
at the marbled station
wandering from
midnight places,
my followers fled

a new heart
in an old body
making my way through
pristine lobbies
tumbleweed blown
through the sand
I pray to the piano
but my saddle up
to the whores
with copper hearts
with silver bullets
and the old west
became undone

Family Plots

Looking back upon the plains
of the corn husk
and the grains
there we were
before the storm
sans Christianity

Though our hearts
made us lost
we forbid
a family plot
for imagination

She stopped
sanding the fence
he stopped going
to the sea
I stopped
remembering
who I used to be

Baby Bird

Baby bird
swinging from the trees
but baby bird
has flown
from ecstasy

Mother hen
has landed
to coddle
the infant
of a world
not meant
for me

For the infant
cannot make
a nest
infant
can't feed
unless
someone forces
food down
my beak