To be a ghost is to always be aghast— To not know which direction is the future or the past.

Mowing with the sickle I stop abruptly and remember crawling out the window to smoke on the roof

As far as the eye can see— Limitless blue nowhere to be found.

Every time I leave my parents’ ho… I am filled with a sweet sorrow. It has taken me half a lifetime to… and now I love them so dearly, so… They nor I are getting younger

Tears tears do a walk-by unload the clip don’t know why now

The moment you flit by my ear, my strings are severed, I droop like a marionette— I remember I know nothing.

Like a Somali pirate just pull up on the Grim Reaper, surprise him

Trees poke from the earth like the mummified hands of the martyrs. Buried alive, they strained with last breath

That one more, chasing the dragon, carrot dangling,

Therein are the spoils of sorrow, the fruit of hardship, where wind snaps and prevails. Death whispers a hollow secret and I still a shiver

Which came first, the egg or the h… An old friend visits on the anniversary of his death— He finds a voice

The Rock made me to see each month as a day. The Rock implored that I be patie… with a patience so radical it slips into renunciation

I wept at the sight of my guru’s picture, Praise God, He is always with me, a Holy thing,

Hollow fang? Volcano. Cat’s purr? Hymnals. Intuition?