i would never get my bar back so i went back waiting outside the entrance for m… to stop myself
“An unexamined life is not worth l… —Socrates “Suicide’s an alternative.” —Mike Muir humanity is the unwiped
i think about her at least once every day i think about all the different st… that i could take to get to her ho…
though it takes a daily muster of all you got empties you out and leaves you wanting
the Buk used to write about the va… hanging around the downtown Los A… looking around the library here on 8th & Rio Grande i think
i search each second find words under rocks and rugs looking for poems
every drum in the world pales to the bang the crash the beat of her
you drag a soul around in a body and some nights it’s a bag of bricks wondering if there’s anything left to dream for
time reduced to ash all the clocks were made of fire burning each second
desert town of fools born of sand and rainmakers devoted to thirst
i was born in a basket of apples out of place from the start always berated by questions like “where is your stem?” “why are you so round?”
long begrimed with dust a floor looking for a broom love me for my scuffs
i have been trying to eat the moon the sun is too spicy and i do prefer a late dinner but the people i eat with are insa… and they vomit the stars
I cannot be cast under any moon, upon any soul. If not for her,
the best shelf in town bartenders driving the drunks home