*.*

[In all manners]

Bleed
for the time it’s worth
bleed
for the death of
mediocrity
bleed while you’ve still
got the blood

bleed
a thousand rivers
in the place of
one tear to give it
what
you’ve got

bleed
for what you know
is right

bleed not
out of anger
but out of will
not suited
for the timid,
bleed truth
whether it takes
an eon to explain

bleed against
the headboard
w/ the rise of dawn,
because
it’s the only solid
surface left
when the ride
gets crazy,
bleeding
for the want
of wants

poem published by Rolling Thunder Press
as well included in my manuscript: Show Heaven to the Sheep
photo explanation: The reason I used that photo in particular is because
that is a vial of my own blood from experiments a fellow artist & I were doing
using blood letting in our art (that vial includes a spiral of copper, corked & sealed w/ wax).
The bead is bone & the trinket is St. Dominic (astronomers).

*.* Emerge

|Ring around the scalpel| 11|21|13

Hello doc,
you didn’t even knock this time around,
ah, & what’s that smile about___
you say you want to take a look inside?

W/ a simple listen you’ll know I’ve got
two beats of heart & an echo,
in fact there’s a whole orchestra in there
for you to play w/, well over!

Just remember gentle, because
it’s been so long since I’ve been willing
to play operation___
but you know I’m patient & open for
healing communication.

*.* A drive around the block

|Saying to friends past| 11|18|13

Distinctly, distinctly, distinctly operating on what it’s like to be alive & yes
I saw their eyes shift & heard their words stumble not knowing what to say or how
to act when it came to me, since I managed to change drastically in such a short
period of time, to them but what had taken my entire life to work up to,
so what does it matter if mostly they are gone___ I’ve found other things to do___
& that was the point from the beginning.

I knew it made no sense
& thus I slid comfortably into obscurity, bow-out & build a different life, it’s okay,
there are witnesses___

What is is, what’s past is past, & the point once over again:
there are other horizons to be had.

photo taken by Amanda Hernandez

*.* Digit

|Are you happy w/ your figure 8?| 11|18|13

Trying not to idealize other people’s lives since so much happens behind closed doors,
there are skeletons crammed in every closet whether or not the stench of death
is present.
In union especially___

Life is so loud & rarely ever quiet, even when sitting alone one must wait
for true silence, which will inevitably be interrupted by something or someone,
knowing it will happen & still generally it is unexpected.
Welcome or unwelcome
it happens
& it doesn’t matter if you’re relieved or stressed, either way you get both.

Hello, long distance calling___

*.* From another shot

|Her father’s thoughts| 11|8|13

Pungent instinct not drama, he said___ & it took years to place.

It’s not theatrics when she goes cold, terse or even violent w/ anger,
instead___
it is thrashing internally just to keep her head above water
in the torture game.
To live so alive in pain, to be shattered over each day w/ bare moments
she refuses to consider reprieve___ it’s a war story,
at best.
Romance not in plot, but what point is there in war w/out love,
no happy ending w/ fairy-tales in mind, just a hope to get out of hell
& find a comfortable settlement w/ what health is left &
create from what has been learned___ .

She isn’t being dramatic, it is struggle forward to personal peace,
if she can convince herself that such exists w/in futurity.

*.*...

|Vertebral nothings| 11|5|13

Swallow

A simple hello w/ a whisper of constant lips, a word like sensation rushing through
corneas finger-tips tingling sitting patiently in thought of casual interaction
a simple touch of the tongue & follow of vertebrae structure showing more than one
can say out loud right away, for fondling even running rationalization aspect as
wait to say all other things which currently come through in other ways

Sugar taken w/ all else to be felt & found

Not hollow

Red Twine

Sliding in between
the sheets & the lines,
Child…
don’t read so deeply,
if anything to keep
the skin on your back.

Everyone makes mistakes,
but you know You
only have so many slips,
there’s only a number
of falls allotted,
thus you must step More
wisely…

Tread lightly, for there is
a wolf in the woods
waiting w/ more patience
than you ever could.
True, you wear a hood like
little Red, but know your bed
isn’t so innocent as hers.

Look, dumb ass, there’s
blood even running down your
inner leg.
So clean up,
look around & do yourself
a favor…

Blooming in the dark

10/24/13 |All but no more Nothing |

A hard act to follow w/ nothing left inside . A hollow vessel yet laced w/ antipathy .

While you were gone it died . While you have been away I lost everything .
& I am happy to be dead finally . & I am pleased to no longer be a living aphorism .
Now melting away into obscurity for a new fashion of unheard purity .
Silence let it be let it be w/out such distinct messaging to the masses saying : such
a hard act to follow . . .
I swallowed & excreted what there was to be said & now there is nothing , just
a vast rip of space w/out bottom w/out even chance to rot , because
there’s more coming . Another body of work will take place & perhaps they
will no longer come looking for trace of truth so boldly displayed that
they may be able to see something for once in between sheet & in between lines .

All that will be heard though is the deep ring of nothing possible to follow .

*

|Still , however changing|

Rejection mass indifference calculating high ground for direction .
Same feelings remain : what love but no demand for happiness . Passage
to place perhaps I may belong beyond grasp or reach of anyone . Only another
love song in bed 6 hours minutiae of what time frame won’t persist .
In mine something swells reeling sweet dropping droplets waiting return .
Back discussion percussion words not misses w/ no need for flattery . Really ___
we have what we need . Time & patience , no rushing for high tide to elation .
True , I am changing . Rejecting pattern for another ground to own up my own .
It is worth what effort made for bond as change takes another world w/
different words to place , shifting whether understood or kicking the gut of
Banter . Not slander , but a loss of respect . Asked for by a slap .
I only know for one return . Scarecrow , not the crow , gets spit in the eye ,
not warm hellos . We’re past that since abandoned last ___ .

Nailed

Splits & divides plus bridges & merges in this life
my mind has already shattered into particles___
we take all this solidity & texture for granted, but it’s not,
Payment for birth is death, w/ every trial & error in between.
on occasion we are wronged___ truly hurt
& perhaps a finger could be pointed, but mostly we have
to look at ourselves & ask a few questions,
How can you really be angry at life w/out just hating yourself?
alone joins creative emptiness creates fire
change as an element, being as a reason to thrive
Not stagnate,
which doesn’t necessarily mean procreate 
to teach
Splits & divides plus bridges & merges
your mind will shatter into particles 
& you will move through chaos w/ grace
you will be protected, but you will be harmed
love will be known & hate will be experienced, just don’t
paint yourself as victim
because in this life you have to carry your own.

                                          

Mask of light

Discussing eugenics & WWII
over a hearty bowl
w/ a friend I hadn’t seen
in a year, it became obvious
our priorities have
changed due to watching
the race
ramp up to go mad
as a whole,
not just individuals

the two of us laughed
healthy & bright
at the prospect of strapping
bat & shovel across our backs
in post-apocalyptic times,
because now it seems
inevitable
because now we’re at
the edge & to
be able to laugh is
the best weapon we’ve got

poem title: A crack on the edge, published by Rolling Thunder Press issue # 11

Shadow of a window

A beginning when moving forward only 
in shattered fragments of
various characters
of various timings & cycles, patterns
when time itself barely exists 
& how do we conduct ourselves now?

There’s a journey ahead, a journey
I’ve been on since only I can remember
but there’s tenderness & a crackle,
thinking throughout the day
pondering on the weight of time
all around you but unable to grasp,
just things, just things…

It is a road
there are clouds &
solid ground
& it requires transition, see
to touch
more than just things.

Perhaps I can just be myself
finally___
not having to tune someone’s drivel out
if I accept them, because I know 
it’s worth something more than a thing.

Having. But not possessing.

Box 2 Finding strength

I preach strength because I’m scared
& sometimes I can’t believe how insecure I am, but it’s not just me, it’s everyone

In a box

New lines
groove
into aging hands
as all folds
before our eyes

we grow &
die as body
society
government &
humanity

we fight
a war w/ ourselves
& still we grow
salvage
& create w/
an undeniable
magnitude

nature
remaining our
savior
all the while

so tell me:
what fear should
we have if 
suffering
be our lot before
peace
can be met

Recent collage work

models: Josh Abernathy & Claire Larson; locations: multiple between Nevada & Alabama

Kitten words

Bella Mina, AL; model: Claire Larson

Lincoln Regional Hospital_3

Lincoln Regional Hospital_2

Lincoln Regional Hospital

Lincoln Regional Hospital in Fayettville, TN

Machine theories of the self