Lethe Knows

Light it up to burn it down // Fringe Graffiti Garden

Fluorescents flicker
over a soundless television
blaring nonetheless.

I still can’t find the source of this unrest.

Discomfort in security
is an unintended side effect;
this rush for stability washes grey
the former lurid sea of endless possibility.
The bottom of this glass a shining glint
of all my future opportunities.


The days are full
as they are empty,
emptied as filled.

I count them all in tanks
of gas and drops
of Guinness spilled –

they pass in rank and file
through halcyon fields of youth.
Lethe knows the truth.


A Bit of Lurid Flame

"For y'all have knocked her up" // Bear Creek 2013

Crushed lapis lazuli liquified
and then applied in coats on live oak limbs
suspend me in a shifting lens
of life apart from lie. I realize

the hammocks swing
to drive the bassist’s line
and leaking eyes have opened
wide to dilate neural ties.

I peek out nervously
from behind clenched fingers
at a piqued peak, and, roiling,

I roll down the hill and savor grasses
weaving dreads into my curling hair.

So many threads of inner knotting speak
their frantic peace among all my hysterics,
a countenance of bouncing back
and boiling forth between jester and cleric.

Saintly, faintly the flushed faces see
what there ain’t, see what hides
all flustered in the dark, see the lights
of teeming woodlands spark the fire

despite drizzled mist, a bit of lurid flame
reflecting bright the LEDs. We exist
in our realities so fully in these tents,
in the fractal fogs of moonlit discs disclaiming
glowing distance, a fever pitch of black
descending on invited madness.

It saddens me to only see you there
under the undulations of the moon.
I know this moment will be over soon.
A couple came and sat
in front of our intoxicated group.
Not quite sober either, giddy giggling
pressing forehead to forehead,
bowing in praise of carefree youth.

Eventually they left, and we followed suit.


There's still a tale to tell

Pick the locks
and poke with sticks
until my neurons hit the bricks.

Is the focus fixed? Are the colors new?
Are the patterns truly shifting or’s it just distortion’s hue?
Pad around the physiology, hack the biochemistry
until all that’s there is clear to see
with less than naked eye.

I’m naively optimistic that there’s still a tale to tell,
that I’m collecting data. Am I trapped under the bell?
Has the existentialism wrapped me in its spell so fraught
With blessed freedom and the manic fear it held?

I know what I’m here for. I know what it is I hope to see.
I know the haze inside of glass unfolds life’s mysteries
And little dots inside of tabs can set a psyche free,
And though it makes the moments pass with arguably too much ease,
And sets a film of opaque fog to cloud the trivial memories,
I’m still along for this ride. I’m still here
to catch each breeze and let the billows sail.

Curiosity’s the gamble here and I’d
say I don’t know what to do… but
the constant flickered sparking tells me
I know plenty well that ain’t true.

It's Time to Light the Lights // 1904 - Artwalk


Faceted // Fading

You take me for a coconut?

This lack of morality shades the hues of every cautionary tale,
saturating stains on souls with vivid crystalline color.

I stopped taking note of the constructs causing me spiritual harm.
Time, I keep no track of your vicious grip, salivating over my salient and faceted gems.
You can have the minor memories if only you’ll leave the landmarks.

If only you’ll promise to stay the degrade on a ferris wheel cutting our sneakers through the dark,
safely elevating heartbeats through the chase of pleasured thrills,
gracefully colliding in our youth’s amusement parks.

My greatest fears are not boogiemen, not mortal pain or any such matter of physics.

My greatest fear is a nibbled sack corner, burlap splitting and spilling these grains I’ve worked so hard to make individually precious. What use is it, this energy spent making each moment a shining jewel when all tumble with equal velocity from my brain?

The warmth of enlightenment // Grape & Grain