Tag Archives: aya


We started dreading
Our hair right around
The same time
Even though your roommate
Who was also your best friend
& like an overbearing older
Sister to you said we
Were ruining our hair
Yours always smelled
So amazing from the lush
Soap you’d feel out of place
Traversing through a mall
To get to & was
A little more reddish
Mine were basically just
These nasty lint magnets
That took six hours to dry
I’d tie them back like a hippie ninja
Or up like a pineapple
I’m not a tits man per se
But yours were huge
& beautiful, you were never
Skinny like me
We used to drink
Lip puckering teas outside
Your little bungalow
In St. Pete
The cicadas twisting in the willows
Above the air conditioners
Turning on & off
The same way
They’d eventually disappear
I used way too much vinegar
The first time
It was gross
It always was
Vanilla reminiscent tannins
With an acetic bite
At the back of the throat
Enough to turn the walls
Of your stomach into leather
We threw up in the bush
I went first, I drank the most
Not knowing what to expect
We lit a fire & forgot
About us by it
It was heavy
It was calm
Knowing where cathedrals come from
You had to almost carry me back
To your bed, it was probably
My favorite one of them all



Glowing blue
and glowing green,
on my herbs
and thru my screen.
In my cup
and in the dark.
Under water
and with a spark.
Slowly melting
to the tune
of an adjacent
drunken sand dune.
It passes through me
like a snake
taking with it
all the fake
and all the wrong.
Transmuted into
the eternal song.
In the light
that does not end.
Thru the night
and around the bend.

The territory does not sleep

the dogs build a wall
of barks
the coyotes laugh at
until my midnight
hash pipe
and ayawaska eyes
take flight.
Been too long,
been too sick,
been too caught up
in the human tornado sim
dies down a calm stillness.
I wade,
soaking in the gulch of life
that just needs to be reminded
to take a deep breath
and absorb.
Let the moon wane
with the parasites.