One Month

I miss you when it’s quiet.


Phobias of Phobia

I was in a much better place yesterday,
where fear could not grow as much as it did today.

and I fear that fear will grow to a greater extent tomorrow,
when there seems to be no graver place than now.

The Tale of Chin and Posy

There is a girl named Posy.
Her eyes are shriveled tight
from crying poisoned saline
all morning, day, and night.

One day she finds before her
a little lake of tears.
Within its echoed ripples
a funny face appears.

Hello it says to Posy.
Hello she says to it.
And then the face presents a smile,
four hundred rippled chins.

“I’ve come to tell you secrets
and end your misery.
Come closer, little Posy,
to catch my murmurings.”

And as she leans to listen
to whispers from his breath,
she trips and falls into his mouth
and drowns a drastic death.

a fond memory

La Pensionne Hotel, Little Italy, San Diego, CA
Room #314

  • a fight, and another
  • tears of unknown origin
  • we fell asleep, and then awoke, with 20 minutes worth of remnants of the year
  • a champagne bottle and two flutes you had snuck in
  • a slice of tres leche and a slice of shangri-la, from extraordinary desserts, are even more than extraordinary
  • 11:40 staying in vs. going out
  • you really wanted to go out
  • 11:50 biting cold
  • empty streets with the occasional group of late-night cafe workers celebrating away from home
  • frantically searching for a place to spend our new year in some exciting way
  • 11:55 still cold
  • a decision to sit on the top floor outdoor patio of our hotel, la pensionne, on two lawn chairs in front of someone else’s room.
  • 11:57 champagne pops
  • why were you crying?
  • when did you buy the champagne?
  • where did these flutes come from?
  • answer #1: i got them before our trip.
  • answer #2: i wanted this trip to be perfect. we kept fighting, and i couldn’t make it better. and i wanted this trip to be perfect because.
  • hand in his hand.
  • his hand in his pocket.
  • eyes connect
  • 11:59 its not cold anymore
  • on his knees
  • forget me knot
  • can’t hear anything but my heart
  • can’t feel anything but butterflies
  • can’t see anything but a layer of tears building and collapsing
  • a kiss to the backdrop of “Happy New Year”s and laughter in the distance.
  • an embrace
  • i love you
  • i love you
  • so much
  • so much
  • 12:00 engaged.


to favor events before the sun sets,
because our eyes start to weigh eight pounds at eight.
and our metabolism just ain’t what it used to be.

to favor tiny dive bars playing jukebox tunes
barely distinguished, extinguished by the full bar orchestra
conducted by your best friend bartender.

to favor a ten block walk from the car to God knows where,
wearing one layer each in the killer cold.
but the heat of the conversation makes it bearable.

to come from five different places at five different times,
five different lives merge because we savor it.
merge because we favor it.


a letter to a lemming

to Blocker Lemming, i’m sorry. i am sadly aware of how hard you’ve worked to help your other Lemming friends reach safety, only to be blown to smitherines in the end. please understand that it had to be done in order for me to reach the next level. i’m sure your heroism will be recognized in the Lemming afterlife.

statistics make it real

i have ruined approximately 551 lives,
both directly and indirectly.
545 in between the ages of ten and twenty four.

397 of the 545 due to words i didn’t mean.
99 of the 545 due to broken promises.
30 of the 545 due to reckless driving.
the rest is unclear, possibly because i was drunk.

of the 551 lives ruined,  it turns out that 550 of them were better off having their lives ruined anyway.
b’cause ladies and germs, something better always comes around.
worrying would be an absolute waste of your ruined time.

the remaining life of the 551 lives ruined remains ruined.

because nothing better comes around when you’re the one ruining,
too tired to make anything of sad circumstances,
too guilty to put out more than a nonsense blog post.


nip it in the bud

inspired by the novice, moved by the expert.
but the in-betweens don’t ever impress.
it’s high time we strive to be more.

jimmy knee

hello! i am your conscience, though i knew it not before.
i found out through a pen pal who resides in Singapore.
the news was quite alarming: “what’s real is fake,” he said,
“and all that was imagined was really real instead.”

to think the life i lived before was a life in someone’s mind,
you’d think that someone (you, that is) coulda been more kind.
but that’s a harmless bone we’ll get to pick some other day,
cause now i have a more important word i have to say:

my apologies to you, first off, for morals i have not.
i just might be the very worst of all the conscience lot.
yet here i find you stuck with me to tell you wrong from right-
a conscience barely conscious from the alcohol last night.

my friend, i really mean no harm as the voice inside your head.
but i must assure that with me here, you might as well be dead.
so if there ever is a time you’re with mistake and shame,
remember that you have a no-good conscience here to blame.