(a work in progress)

a reflection of overcast skies 

she lies there

pinned by waves against an isolated rock

algae staining white cloth

the abyss in her eyes absorb everything

A Memory

I’ve crossed the Atlantic Ocean four times during my journeys to England. Each time it has taken 3 hours going 600-700 miles per hour traveling in an airplane.
The Atlantic Ocean is massive!
I’ve always wanted to see the ocean. Not a gulf or bay. The actual ocean. I want to take in its enormity with my own eyes and feel it process within my mind. I want to, in that moment, be like a child who has discovered something strange and wonderful.

I can only recall one memory of the Atlantic Ocean. A brief glimpse during night between clouds. The waves reflected the blackness of the sky with stars littered among them. I imagined myself floating through the dark water. My eyes focused only on the night sky.

In that hour

When the house is quiet
and all I can hear is my bones
scraping against one another
like lovers embracing

Cutting Up, A Cut Up Poem (Human Death and Decay)

about oxygen.
appearances stop though, feel
portions heat within hours,
muscles begin
Brain loses body's algor its days
oxygen.
Hours called The death,
and mortis dying,
first rigor lose hours days.
72 and hours
will die
called draining stiffening begins
cells lower-lying pale muscle
pale of body heat about in a death,
The cool, heart a and 36 --
your body, seven muscles
12 three appearance

When the grass is a vibrant shade of spring
and the sky is cerulean
clouds smeared, unmoving
there is a calm silence
a fond breeze
a reflection of the mind
but there is also comfort
found in dismal, endless days
a certain clarity
an endearing melancholy
drifting lazily among grey skies

Colias Philodice

By chance I witnessed you struggle.
Your wings nearly camouflaged against the artificial blue water.
I fished you out
and placed you on the Buddhist's alter table.

Beautiful Words From A.H.

"The flowers are dead and the bees are drowning"



"That's strangely poetic."

A.H.

You're all I ever think about. I can't find happiness without reading a simple "Hello" from you.
I suffer when you're away and I'm always sad.

Black coffee, Camel cigarettes, old CDs that shouldn't be played while other people are riding in the car.

Cigarettes... I'm too lazy to empty the ashtray

This saloon has no doors

A Poor Attempt At Writing Something

She sat on her twin sized, sheetless bed. Glancing over at the brown stained pillow she had used a few days before to soak up the beer that spilled and began to saturate her mattress. She grabbed the pillow gently, lifted it to her nose, and inhaled deeply. The aromatic smell of dark ale tingled her taste buds. Deciding that she liked the smell she placed the pillow back onto her bed, brown stain up so that when she slept, she could always have that smell permeate her dreams.