T.V.

The midnight blue:

A hum-soft-scratch

Of conflicting ideologies.

Bipolar by nature,

Changing its mind,

In foreign rhythms.

It's voice:

The tone you take

When you no longer care

About the things 

You tried to do

While the sun was up.

Tomorrow, tomorrow

It whispers in the dark,

Begging you to press in

And feel it's power.

It wants to swallow you whole

In hues of soft blue,

In hopes you'll refuse to sleep

And negotiate the terrain

Of your black box brain.

Red Planet

It's just dust,

Settling in silent places,

Always being ingested,

Through a compromised system.

It's just dust,

Collected on the fingertips,

Being washed clean in the sink,

But the clothes are still ruined.

It's just dust,

Tiny asteroids colliding and settling,

Showing how much time you spent

Contemplating how to keep your hands clean.

Blasphemy

Been gathering sparks in a jar
to repair the things I spilled shadows on
In a panic I ate broken glass,
when I should have let it crunch underfoot
so you could hear it and come see
I'd soak the family room in gasoline
and throw my sparks on it
just to have some light again
before I'm completely paralyzed
by what I fear is true

I had so many thoughts against it:
the light bulb in the bedroom,
but it still turned on when I wanted
The blasphemy was in
Taking a baseball bat to it.

Bird by Broken Bird

Hard breath of song

In the shards of early light

Between the branches

In the trees

Everything repeated

In the soft of the fog

Squinting to realize

What is there

A twitch on the neck

The light goes out

From side to side

Till the fluttering is done

And the gun stops smoking

No Joke, Casanova

The love in your wine glass

Dropped to the carpet

Split on your shirt

Staining the lips and tongue

With the sweet initial shock of it

But then everything reverses

When the aftertaste comes

The dry desert that makes your palate

Suck down air just a little faster

You've ruined more than just the carpet

You'll be stuck with the bill

Let me take you home

This is no joke, Casanova

Lost August

The sweat beads up

On the eyelashes

And tip of the nose

The most annoying points

All I can do is rub

The rash of salt and heat

Over my frame

I won't waste away

Just look at me

There is no forgiveness

In the violent, blazen spread

Of summer

Only when it turns cold

And we need each other

For warmth

Do we make amends

Keep selling yourself to me

And don't stop

Telling me

The good days are behind 

And before us

Just not today

The merriment made

In the swift drink

In the shrill cry

Who will understand what's left?

Just bones, dust, and fabric

No skin to feel

No heart to follow

No ears to understand

No eyes to take in

Good days are ahead

Good days are a promise

A cancer, a blind dance

In a sunken valley

Maybe I will waste away

How good I will look

When the days catch up

To me

Goodness has a wrath

And I bear it now

In the burn

Of a lost August.

Last Call

The autograph of night

A gutter hush

Of feet

Trampling water

As it runs

Down

Out in the atmosphere

Of shrill drunk

Laughter and crying

Where the engine

Of society

Shakes loose

It's nuts and bolts

The weekend is over

Let's mourn:

The slaughter

The harvest

Sleeping alone

The fall

The amber click

Of petrified leaves

On the asphalt

The last of the half truths

Told

Waiting

For someone

To get off work

The sad old men

Too lazy

To remove their wedding rings

Lusting and slobbering

Over their wallets

For more liquid courage 

Cowboys and indian print dresses

Back in style

Bringing back the dead

In the treads

When we dance

Acute observations

Phantom psychology

Shrinking the spaces

Where we speak

In tongues

And in the cracked alley

Where the bar-backs smoke

We find the dusty library

Chronicled night

I take an Old Fashioned

Beneath the dim chandelier

And take the warmth it brings

To justify self-inflicetd hell

I don't want to be alone

With my thoughts

Here:

In the florescent grave

Just sleep.

Just dream.

Just turn in the bed

Like a rotisserie

Over and over

Until I'm done.