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About this section:


The writings below make up a collection of surrealist, experimental, abstract poetry used to process events, and personal artistic narratives through language. Structures and formats have been altered in various alternatives to traditional statements as a way to restructure personal understanding.                               


These are living words. 

I think they’re funny, berries in the sand that don’t melt like victory candles Fill up my pail and break green shovels before the water runs backwards to the moon Are you contemplating your last visit to the ocean or/or are those tears of questioning your shorter future Stop between hot feet and a blackberry overripe with sun The sand doesn’t fall away after its deep inside From hair, to folds, and back again/again it’s broken glass and you told me not to touch

Droodling harder in hallucinations in my days of couches and dogs and dust Tattles living as the hint of your name because I had to keep moving Wits and benevolence battle in a muddy Mooreland for death or lust to love at all gratitude for the difficult woman ambitious and emotional, brainy and defiant To please themselves with less pinker than you thought for those who seek to control a river have never complicated it in lock and key compartments to control soot and ash from water through fire separate be worlds that hold wombs and copper birds whistle cannery toons without breath beads, and ruffles, saliva in compressed air lungs as toads, noises rushing and never a mystics assertive compassion fibs again with stories told to mothers on shelves

Dirt, Air, Summer, & Hair There’s not much grass to get lost in here It’s just the dirt you dug up that makes the air thicker

Disturbances are determined by sweeping steps Sacrificing Andromeda, chained to rocks that weigh on warmth Vulnerable black soil mounds placed over voids, with vibrations they churns I smelled fluid and iron from the gaping holes Taking in the wind as it paints her face Scavenged by wolves, helpless to understand a will to survive Hands had already erased their histories A simple price paid Incubated eggs in soil blindly taken The bowels of the network are oozing with paper that has long lost its value Scrambling of power, contributions are over sited in grids Miles on miles under our feet Depleted in wombs, buried in contaminated hollows Brought to time, we were the connection to circles and circumstance Never a God, we made these worlds collide.

Only a smile, lips, teeth, and to tongue Never a spark, that is to start but cannot finish Dirt flys, dry to ignition My nothingness proceeds my need for your hands Love by name, desire by heart Flash, run, flutter Smirk to me I’ll see through the sound Need me like gasoline needs a match Urgency to say your name but words stutter Letters to breath But be mine to yours Names make mud like tires and your engines Needing a tune by names.

Neither soggy north and south, west, east, nor wet but blooming rock, in time Breaking earth through voids Deep can be dark, a yonic Circles and spaces To dwell in darkness Other worlds lighten shadow manifesting eyes In fertile dwellings it quietly rolls through graves while stumbling downward Multifarious Sockets within cavities Determined a hole Quietly notice Passages of time to center Underneath caverns Hephaistos an axe But peculiarly human Adaptations fall Digging with fingers A dream of vortex crevice towards pink dim holes Fermenting eggs to seeds and fertile bottomless roots hollow nostrils birthed A hole, hole, a hole From under, within ourselves A hole, a hole, whole

I am the reflection in your coffee A small glimmer of my eyes that will never leave you Think of me like hot summers in a leather bike jacket Before you kick start your life Remember the barely brush of knees Electric, I so hoped we could Dreams are far away but full like a long-forgotten laundry basket Dirty, used, loved, wanted, and warn I’ll sleep soon I’m forgetting your voice and the feeling of you just off the elevator Look left, then straight ahead.

Spew all the words that my head held inside The pages would melt, crack and sink The words are far too heavy To abounding, too much to hold on to They fly from the caverns of my mind Some Some are wedged within the deepest avalanches of the negative spaces in my brain They hide Grow Hibernating while expanding fatter, larger with their bellies full undigested bones and muscle Stay hidden in the walls, crevices fill with darkness Waiting to raid the softness of the page Words turn to beasts and thoughts to armies Assaulting methodically a Trojan horse they pray upon the vulnerability of the rag

Never wonder more as we collect broken glass with our bare hands Crimson roses leak through finger tips as the sound of gravity pulls

I don’t feel well, I’m occupied by an evicted renter Mornings are veiled in far-flung whimpers, just down the hall Tiny haunts in the waking and half-dead hours Buy a plastic stick and drink the water Blue sprinkles float in a plate of milky white Check it again, only three more minutes When you touched me I was scared Fingertips sharp like cats that howl in mourning darkness The noble one, free from the velour of your scandal They are Nonnatus, the righteous Its time and the wailing is deafening Try to spill the milk to make it hurry into corners full with foulness I’ve been made a vessel to incubate precious items soon to be abandoned Your lungs will soon be filled with the air of Gabriel Now forgotten too but they saved you first within me I gagged on my own light as the angels flew far with it Desire is nothing now Metal on doors and locks on windows Gianna laughs vicious whisps as she laps up cream Rotting and I’m the corner as dust settles over me with longing for what I had planned There are more of us now, placed delicately in a row We sit together collecting discarded skin cells on shelves as America vessels

A love like dog toys and bouncy balls It's floating in suspended jelly Where can we find the final notes you took them with you when it deflated Simple smiles, provocative and malicious Flying that kite severed its string Disembodied tattered linen Tempted by the pressure of the atmosphere Air walkers skip through broken glass Cutting wild robots that sing sharply The skyscrapers barely touched your feet when you started to fly A chill rips over the burnout allowed to waft past its infatuation

If waves were canes and salt were for more than glasses Time would still find its way to the marshes with their heavy sticks Grey skies, blue skies, purple when they fall back to black Washing teeth with rags, old thoughts that you can’t remember Jagged, cut open and stitched back together but then your clouds form shapes like whales that can’t breath I don’t think bathing fabric was supposed to get wet the wine does more for that than it should, you became you again.

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