Stuttering Nothings

The pace is frenetic, the path erratic.
Stumbling surely with steady slips of uncertainty grabbing my attention.

“There’s no such thing as good or bad!” exclaims she
with tremble and beads of nervous darkening a slash of smile.

“There’s no inherent value in anything we do…” panting now,
feverish with compulsive ambitions of ceaseless momentum
driving forth the slaving force that grips her feet to stage.

“Everything sucks ass as much as it’s awesome,
all that matters is sincerity and connectivity
with our fellow bunkmates on this journey through the universe,”

and her voice falters through the cracks, she blanches, turns
an expressive 180 as enlightenment dims the avalanches
of chasmic dark that paints our silhouettes.

The freedom of nihilism only gives a reason to feel silly, not any comfort
or reprieve, and littered sticks of incensed burnouts will hear their quiet, too.

“What do you think?”

Addressing silence, I expected more than blank stares
and side-stepping tangents of incomprehension.

“Where do we go from here?”

Stuttering nothings blurring into synapses of hit shows and remixed refrains
of mindless radio nonsense; viral strains of manufactured entertainment setting in the rot.  

Mortar powders the bridges of nose and cheek, curtains betray a resident withdrawn.
I lob pebbles at your windows, watch them clatter against brick and roll down on the lawn.

I give up fights and move down to separate blocks in detached neighborhoods.
Urban, suburban, rural and beach - traveling through climate each to each to find the voices.

I am perpetually convinced that they will not sing to me.

Got That Goose // Burro Bar



Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. 

                                                                       -Max Erhmann, "Desiderata"

Yellowjacket climbing Treaty Oak // Jacksonville, FL



Vignette // Fringe Cafe & Eatery

It’s in your blood, sugar,
the faint dizzy headiness of vocal chords
thrummed in time with clumsy thumbs.

Your scrawl, a million dollars worth
of ink on a sign up page. I spy your easy grace
up on the stage and take notes.

This loneliness is the broad I've taken turns
in dancing with, a chase I know I can’t outrun.
Do you know the one? It grows

in the flickered buzz of an amp extinguished,
of dirtied tables wiped clean and open
signs relinquished of their full day’s work.

It grows in the front seat of an empty car,
keys hanging flaccid from an ignored ignition,
into thoughts of two glasses for one at a close-by bar.

This melancholy is my context, each moment spent
alone in silence intent on naming this ennui,
and I cling to each rung of this ladder
though the ground rests right below me.

You, time traveler, bear the lines growing on my face.
Your number sign has more digits than mine
but we hail from the same race.

Encapsulated in your asymmetry,
charming man, your tunnel’s lit ends beckon
and, emboldened, I reckon I’ll follow.


Little Dab'll Do Ya

See Through // Found

See the thing about you that caught my eye –
beyond candy-coated tendrils wrapping scores of suckers
dumbfounded and static in your apathetic love –
was the twitch of wit that cracks all of your smiles.

Pierce your flesh,
undulate round in hypnosis,
jump through hoops to fuel the spiral.

Oh, how I would choose to keep you safe, precious daughter of light.

Stumble, weft and wend –
your precision wanes under the moon,
directing discretions to take a fucking hike.

Stem and wind – fragile, wishful,
twist your bends of back and forth.
You daughter, you know not your worth.

Beautiful beautiful, you are prayer
cast by whirling dervishes of destruction,
singling out cerebral cell by cell for the firing line.

One by one, dropkick them all, one by one.

Couldn’t quite escape yourself down in Florida
So dance, oh daughter, down filled fields
of laughing mania under dripping oaks.