Tag Archives: midnight

The herbalist

Yeah the moon is full as fuck
& shining on my face I rub my skin
the dirt and warmth I feel it
lingering on the wrinkles of my
forehead I want to go back to
Wyoming someday outside of Pinedale
away from all the spiderwebs that
don’t matter to you I’ve got a seat
on the edge of the sage bush I’ve sat
watched the stigmas wilt the flies
covered mouths until unspoken flickering
crack the window just to feel it wonder
where we are in these new ways ellipse
beneath the moon you’re supersaturated
don’t be a fool & go revoke the only
thing keeping you alive asleep you cooled down
but you were boiling just yesterday they
wanted to run us out of town we drank
your poppies by the side of the road
we wore your moonflowers while we spooned
in the bus & fled to San Francisco


Lost girl

                                           A girl lost
                             in the back of the cab


 peel your lip back
  what’s it say


                             a pink tentacle
                            flops across the
                           suicide seats
      stained red
      with a slap


                                she closes her eyes
& touches her clit beneath her black 
dress
           to the rhythm of
              the window wipers steady
or a piano


                             they wanted three hundred
          now it’s six


                                   who was behind the wheel
                                  driving the lost girl
                                 to her destination
              deep inside 
this nothing nowhere
                        no one knows but her


I need a ride
she said Where to?
I don’t give a fuck


             her hooded eyes as blank as her face
                                           like a black cats or
                                                a new moon’s


it was Thursday
as we watched from afar
     the door open
             the door close
                        the black cab
          with the suicide seats
 stained red


                                        she touches her pink clit
    the tentacles coil
like condensation on a window
 like misterioso being beamed
  down by a vinyl crackling satellite 



The sound of ten toes cracking

With their tires moving thru the rain
I won’t be the one who says you can
You know that your knife’s getting weak
Boy getting weak in your hands
To Beercan island with those old tires moving thru the rain
Into the parking lots of unsuspecting condos

sometimes running on the pavement to the beach
Where shiny new shoes and hammerhead sharks on wheels
wouldn’t dare past a swoop
but we would with our barefeet moving through
the white sand beach between our toes in the night 
Where dreams should have been glowing
there were other ones between our lips
Like little blue stars of the oceans living swirl
in the dark waves lapped the shore of everything was
In the night with our toes moving through the wet sand
We called it Russia like when we were all
over each other by the bonfire it was snow
between the trees growing up from it like a warm forest
where we joined fueled by whatever stars we could fit
in our packs and find by the fire lit
that night glowing galactic & jealous
Living liquid like the ocean into both of you
lapped up the shore glowing
Let’s leave this world tonight
 That aint right
         Yes it is
         Yes it is
         Yes it is

 ‘Cause honestly
I’d rather just wear my blue hoodie
& my underwear I’d rather just
          yes the glowing world tonight
                  sitting there smoking a blunt
             & having an orgasm
                                                      I’m one of
                                           the last poets
                                                ever to live



Blueprints for a dream catcher

I figured out
        why they made dream catchers
        with yarn
                                          while I was
                 pinch ‘n’ rolling my
     morning balls


          the daddy long leg
                       spun the web                      I slept
                                                             in the corner
                                                    below ‘er

where it caught the dead that flew confused
vacated
leaving the thin sail waving
with the embedded dead
all wrapped up soft
undulating thinly clinging to the tetrahedron
on walls with silk curves that hold

they think you’re
          just sitting there
                                useless
                                and scary

                                                           O how little
                                                some trickle

the masks
revolving
on your back

precognitive dreams
           in an infinite
wave like soft flags
because of the embedded dead
left waving       thin                  you were doing something
                                               somewhere else
                                                we had something in common


                     precognitive dreams
                 in an infinite

                  spider webs                         undulate soft