Dead eye

Posted in Uncategorized on August 21, 2014 by unsensible

In the dead eye of morning
I forget to be clever
The coffee is running cold
My stomach is churning
Maybe smells like never
My corpus feels faded and old

Study the meat of my empty hand
Considering options with my solitary friend

The light you see

Posted in Uncategorized on August 21, 2014 by unsensible

You think hibernation sets you free
But the universe inexorably, ineffably amplifies
Pushing you inward and outward
Cryogenically frozen, a two dimensional photograph
An expression you can’t remember, less duplicate
A stranger in a strange body
10 years older before you surface from the dream of your reluctant odyssey
Destination, events, and horizons

Eyes sealed through the porthole of a hermetically sealed capsule
The light you see is a dying star

The rain doesn’t think about me

Posted in Uncategorized on August 19, 2014 by unsensible

Forty-nine paces through the pissing rain turns my shirt to slick black satin across my shoulders and chest
Bubbling up from the gravel, across my feet, and through the gaps in my worn heel shoes to form rivers on the pavement
My hair falls in my face like a man waking from a dream, born into the day again, too dumbfounded to react

I can’t do a thing about the rain
The rain is not personal
It doesn’t think about me like I think about it
I can only control how I deal with it
With a pitifully limited set of modalities, philosophies, and outmoded tools

Scientific Fact

Posted in Uncategorized on August 18, 2014 by unsensible

The average person has one minute of attention span
Per year of life
Up to the age 40
A turning point where voices of the past
Become so much more enticing than the naying of the present
You’re lucky if you make it to the age of 80
Minding anything at all


Posted in Uncategorized on August 18, 2014 by unsensible

I’m dying
of Diet Coke
Online Banking
And Cigarettes

Weak coffee and
8AM meetings
White shirts with
button stains

Goodbyes like ripping bandaids
Anxiety itching like scabbing wounds
Blurting good intentions from 100 miles away
Trying to think what my father would say

I’m dying from not writing
Damage control
Personal conflict

Learning not to say things
Breathing my reactions in and in
Dizzying motes in the void
Making the most of the high

Accidental reminders
Passive aggression
Insults for hours
apologies like signatures on bad checks

I’m dying of means to my ends
Labyrinthine highways
Pointing to dead ends
Map points that are not called “happiness”

I’m dying from me
And I know it

Stephen King

Posted in Uncategorized on July 11, 2014 by unsensible

Stephen King says:
“When you get paid for your writing…and you use it to pay your electric”
You’re a good writer

Stephen King says:
“If you can’t read 4 to 6 hours each day, you’ll never be a good writer”

Stephen King says:
“Write 2,000 words per day.”

50 Novels and 200 short stories can’t be wrong

And this isn’t a poem, it’s a “piece”, which is to say I don’t know

I don’t give a fuck if he lacks respect from contemporaries
I would get lost in that world
Constructed of sweat not genius, questions not certainty

I wish I could get lost in my own world instead
Time to get to what really keeps the power on

Just one 1,870 words to go Steve


Posted in Uncategorized on July 10, 2014 by unsensible

Last night’s orgy of positivity
Has left me with a wicked hangover
In the thin weak tea light of a staggering dawn
Blackout curtains drawn
I study the ever-growing lines on the meat of my palms
An intricate highway to nowhere
And contemplate a new career in oblivion
But where do I apply?


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