West

They have said that I am eloquent
Well you can say that again
Always love a compliment
It keeps me feeling relevant
But I've found a new predicament
Found that all my time is spent
Taking breaths and breathing in
Pheromones that's heaven scent
Brown eyes I am drowning in
A love that was so instant
I've got to say I'm finding it
Hard to believe I am sober

But I know
That I am
This man
Got me overwhelmed
And I can't
Understand
How it opened
Like a can of unplanned
Morning Folgers

He's the best part of waking up

It's insane
Roaming
Free through the plains
Calling his name
For years it's been played
Out again with no gain
Calling names through the grain
Feeling trapped in the weed
Now I'm finally free
And bam like lightning
He comes running to me

So I know they call me eloquent
But it's funny now I'm finding it
Hard to find the words to get
Across what I mean
Because he not only took from me
The luggage that I've been lugging
But every single air I breathe
And the words from my chest
And I'm doing my best
To try and undress
The little distress
Of wordless obsessions
But I must confess
I've no words left
The boy from the West
Came straight to my chest
And stole the wind out and left
Me with the best
Kind of addiction
Love

Take Me

Take me somewhere
To a place of cobblestone
And ferns side by side

Moment by Moment

Moment by moment
Completely contextual
Case by case
Situation

Flip-flop

You know I'm not Pinocchio
Appropriately quotable
Appropriately poet-told
Trusting in the functions
Of the folks that I find notable
Giving up on what you thought
Looking for a solid rock
To stand on but instead you got
A slushy bunch of baja sauce
A house built on some sand and jocks
I told ya not to wear those socks
You faking saying you forgot
But now you stand on sand that hot
In socks instead of soft flip flops

Night Owl

I'm afraid to set the candle too close to the coffee cup
I'm afraid i'll drink wax on accident.

You can't just have a fire lit under your ass.
You need time to realize its hot.

Ryan

So many reasons for why I'm pissed
Taking out the time to decide which
Most of all I guess it boils down to this
I gave you a part of me as a gift
What I gave you caused you to shift
So you tossed it away like a piece of shit
And cut me out again each time it was mentioned.

Running

Everywhere I stand
I find water running next to me
In a sink
Or down the street
I didn't put it there
And we stand together quiet
The water and I
Like two men who promise
They aren't trying to check one another out
On a elevator
Until eventually
With an almost impossible to hear sigh
One of us leaves

Excuse Me

I have a lot of decisions to make
Excuse me
To continue to make
Excuse me
For that, I ask you
Can you please understand
That my pushing you away
On the ripples of our little pond
Hurts half as much as the tidal wave
Of our ocean deep romance crash
Would have
I am sorry to have come all the way
To your place
To say this
But I'm afraid
I left my One Year Chip
Here.

Wheels

The truth of the matter is
Stuck somewhere inside all of this
That I would never be with you
Out of choice
I am barreling down a road of recovery
With the windows down following sunsets
While you idle in the mud somewhere in a bitter Dakota cold
You spin your wheels
I use mine to move forward
I thank god for them
I see you and I see
And that's all
I don't feel something tingle in my chest
But rather I hurt from the chain around my dick
Pulling me closer and closer to yours
Knowing that your pain
And your poor choice
Are what hold me back
And pull my dick until it bleeds
You do not need me
You need to run out of gas
Run out of battery
Sit the fuck down
On the side of the road
And ask for help
I would sooner stop to help a stranger in need
Who wishes someone would be kind in the cold
Than sit in the winter
Next to a man who thinks he is doing fine
Just sitting in the cold
Like I don't know
Any better

Jealous of the Red Bud

Jealous of the red bud
He stood frozen
Close to spring

Christin

She paints in leafless trees
With summer breezes
Air conditioning
We sit - Daphne and Dionysus
With laurel wreaths atop our heads
Chakras blooming
And understand another side of love
Thelma and Louise
Anne and Sylvia
Two sister spirits
With tongue and pen
Paintbrush and friendship
At the gates of an opening
So deep and so vast
When we think of it
We gasp
Her and I
We can barely muster up the courage
Sometimes to face
Ourselves
But we can paint
Sing and lament
As a cat purrs along to the hymns
She hums and
I whisper

Moon III

When I got here and when I
Woke up are nowhere
Near the same
I came with the moon
To a land of dancing in the garden in the moonlight
And floppy discs
I let myself assume it'd sustain itself
And I fell asleep
Like a damned fool
But when I finally woke up
It was clear I'd lost some time
And I needed to get started
Right away
A thousand dances
And poems
Showed up at my door
Marked urgent
I removed the sticker and wore it as a poem
Around my neck
I heard sirens sing to me
The what was next
And I felt guidance counselors
At my shoulders
Ready to push me forward
When I woke up
I realized I should've already
Hit the ground running but
I arrived glued to the sky.

Begging

My dick it
Is confused
It only
Responds to
Abuse

So my ass
Brings the back
Won't relax
Unless its
Attacked.

My dick hurts
My ass burns
No more cheeks
Left to turn

Give me time
Give me time
Leave me be
Alone inside.

Please.

Matt

It's not just dirty old men
In public restrooms
And creepy relatives
That sexually abuse me
Its not even limited to
The sexual lovers that break
My heart or disrespect
My body...
Sometimes people can abuse me
With their clothes on
Every time he gets angry that
I'm beautiful
Every time he hates me
Because I won't fuck him
Then they tell me
Still dressed
Under layers of actions
Instead of words
That if I am not for sex
Then I am useless
And if I am not doing my job
My job of pleasing other men
Despite myself
Than I am being a god awful person
And I deserve punishment

I deserve love
And i find it ever difficult
To maintain that truth
When the world is filled
With so many pricks.

Take Me

Take me somewhere
To a place of cobblestone
And ferns side by side

Video - Wound Up, Instead

An in-home performance of "Wound Up, Instead" performed at 4am - noon on a poet's schedule. 

As They Do

I am too old now
To think all things change
Entirely
In a night
But rather things change
As they do
In tiny sections
In nights like this
When I drive with my comrade
My naked roommate co-pilot
Through just rained streets
Downtown
Red, Yellow, Green reflections fussy
On the concrete
Yellow bulbs buzzing
And finally a room temperature breeze
Through D.C.
Blaring folk songs
On a Saturday night
Because thats what artists do
On a Saturday night
A thing I vowed to do as a
Teenager, come true
Things change as they do
And tonight I am buying back
In time
The night
Buying it back from drugs
From sex that pounds you into the concrete
And yellow teeth
And angry men screaming at sirens
They fall
Into the history of summers
And gently
With delicate times like tonight
Give way to folk songs
Blaring out of car windows

And my demons
Turn back into an artist
As with time
They do 

Beta

I am only not

Who I am at a party

When I am telling people how original I am

At a party

All other times

I

If not, we

Are worried who we are

At a party

What do I say when asked what I do

Who I am

What my life’s work is meant for

Where do I work

My god I just die

I cannot answer that question

I do not know where I work

I know that I have not yet starved to death

I have learned that you must eat

And that eating will not make me feel better

So in essence I have learned nothing of food

I know what other people say

I know that they shout stories all night

Of dorms and ultimate Frisbee kegers

Of internships and entry level positions

Of finances and investments

I know I am supposed to say the same

I have hidden under a rock named artist for years

In a corner telling a cat

How much I don’t understand

Or hid waiting until people were drunk

And come out swinging with a bag of poems

But artists are capable of more

There is talk now of internships

And common grounds

They are talking of grad schools and grants

And my poetry bag feels so small

I wonder in moments alone

With my pen somewhere at night

If there is room for my kind of art

Anymore

And what is my place?

Am I ever going to feed myself

Whole grains and organic cheese

Or grow a Walt Whitman beard

And learn to wipe with a leaf?

I do not go to a lot of parties anymore.

Is Darwin somewhere keeping a note

Of the fight between poets, now?

Am I just a Beta, asking the Alphas

If there is a place at the table for me?

I grew up hearing stories

Sometimes reading them, too

Of the poet’s jacket

Filled with pages

Acting as a tent

On the road

I have never pictured

A poet in leisure

Born out of freedom from want

I have only ever seen

A poet in leisure

Letting go of all that he wants

Wealthy, full poets

Are like poor lawyers

I thought

They must be doing it wrong

And I was convinced

My entire life

It was the only thing

I was doing right

They’ve told me.

I’ve noticed.

That what I do is important.

But no one rides for free.

Am I just a poet

Who cannot be taught

Or a perfectly worded

Leech? 

How Dare The Poet

How dare the poet

Stand in front of us and say

That she has a right

To sustain herself?

It is the job of the poet

Not to remain

But to lament.

Who will speak for us?

Who will release what we feel

But cannot express

If the poet spends all of her time

Asking for tools

And food?

If the poet asks for food

We will give it to her.

And then we will walk

Emotionless

Away from her

With our backs turned

And our ears closed

And maybe then

She will know what real hunger is

She will moan on stage and paper

Of the burning hunger in her soul

While her stomach sits full.

And we can all come back

Have a seat

And remember those times

When we, too, were hungry 

Wound Up, Instead

I wrote my first poem when I was six years old
Truth be told
Somewhere I know
I didn’t have a choice
Life does not break you
It makes you an artist
I did not know
At six years old
If I should keep living
Giving
Myself up to sin
To live in my skin
Felt selfish
A little gay boy
Loves girl toys
And shares from his heart
And its torn apart
When he hears he’s part
Of what makes the world sick
And if you think that’s bad
The saddest
Part is that
He just doesn’t want to hurt his family that way
With a big gay
Bomb
I wrote my first poem when I was six years old
For my father
Who just died
Loving who I
Have become
Since then
I wrote it for him
Back then
Because he went blind
But I didn’t mind
If he couldn’t see
How fey I could be
And I swear it saved me

I was in my first play
In the eighth grade
It did the same thing
We had to change
Schools
Because the kids were so cruel
And I’ll be damned if things
Weren’t the same
At this place
My being queer
Was just as clear
And ‘noose, or gun?’
Again I wondered
The best way to do myself in
And again
Alice in Wonderland, this time
In the spotlight
As the Cheshire Cat
I got back
A will to survive
It is why
I’m alive
I am an artist because I
Had to choose
What to do
After
I have not been given
What ‘they’ have been given
But a body to live in
And a pen in
My hand
And a place on the stage
And I’ve lived with age
Through so many places
They only show on t.v.
As cautionary
After school specials
“A rose from the sidewalk’
As TuPac once said
While you’re safe in your bed
I ran through my head
And wound up, instead
Inside of a million worst case scenarios
Hellish tornados
And getting stuck
Where things just suck
And the only luck
I’ve had
Is art.
I am an artist because I have got to be
If I want to wake up
In a bed
Instead
Of a police station
Or a crack house
Or a park bench
Or a trash dump
Wondering
Why it is I
Can’t seem to survive
But only live
If I want to wake up
In a bed lazily
Then I need to not leech
Off society
Instead I must reach
With all of me
And hold onto the sword
With which I was born
Not doctor, not lawyer
But artist
I know thats the hardest
Life you can think
How silly of me
To try and live
But if that is
Then you don’t know shit
And good for you, too!
Don’t change a thing
But let me just say
You’re welcome
It has been my pleasure
If nothing else
To take on, myself
All of this Hell
And turn it into
Something that you
Enjoy watching

The Dissent

I was terrified by
That raccoon 
Climbed 8 floors
Up to my roof 
On the outside 
Didn't take the stairs
I am still scared 
How is she gonna come 
Down 
Claws don't work backwards
Trust me I know 
The dissent well enough 
To tell you 
It feels like it drags
But the fall 
Is a lot faster 
So Ms. Raccoon better
Hope she clawed 
To the height 
Of the right 
Rooftop 

Step Two

The happiest moments in my life
When I look back
Are covered in sweat
Cooling on my temples
As a smile broke upon my face
In the sunset.
It is the darkest
And colder days
Upon reflection
That were covered in blankets
And felt comfortable on my skin.

Model

The laurel wreath comes out at night
I look best by candle light
I sit in window sill and smoke
And watch the other windows glow

Sebastian

Five A.M.
I sit still
In the dark
I'm quiet
I think of
Loves in times
That are old
That still shine
Roman men
Greecian Gods
Wet loin clothes
By the shore

My phone rings
Who is this
Um hello
I saved you
In my phone
As hot boy
I ask too
Who is this

I hang up
This is why
I will stay
Single for
Now.

That Which Pushes

Do not turn against the wind 
And hold your jacket tighter
Lean into the wind arms open
And spread your coat like wings
Ask for support from that which 
Pushes you
Dare to lean in instead
And remember that cold while harsh 
Is painful
But It is what makes the world bare and real
Summer suns are charming and flatter
But winter is being honest with you.

All Tied

I forget sometimes
In times 
When I
Am all tied 
Up in my head
What they said
When they told me
That god is listening
To me, too.
And it doesn't hurt to ask.

Acting Out

Forgive me for the things I said
When I didn't want to be alive.
I promise both that they were not true
And that now I want to survive.

Pablo

Just as I left you
My occasional lover
Do not stir for me
From your sleep
Just as I left him 
My occasional lover
From when I got up
To get a drink
Only now he is not tangled in me
But his hair still falls
In mad fits of midnight
Long wisps grabbing onto the pillow 
Every scar
I occasionally kiss
Every burn mark
I run my fingers over
And that gentle golden cross
Still resting at your heart
While a blue morning light
Sneaks in through the window
And I break the rules
That require of me solitude
Occasionally 
So that I may open my heart
And marinate in your brown skin
Impossibly beautiful eyelashes
And inviting lips. 
You make a damned fool out of me
Occasionally.

Fellowship

Every fucking body has a moment
That turns into a phase
Gains momentum as a period
And eventually becomes a catalyst
For the rest of their lives
And it always fucking looks
Like a bad day
Rough week
Hard time
But when its over and you have your
New normal
Then you realize finally
It wasn't that bad
That you were just alive for the first time
And the few sad sacs that don't know
What I'm talking about
Have nothing to talk about
So fuck 'em

Water

I find that I spend a lot of time
Nowadays
Around cold moving water
And tangled dead trees
Limbs going every which way
Ducks shivering
A lot of brown and grey
Like a dream I had has a child
Like I'm going back there
To that big duck mural
Painted on the wall of Everett's
Barber shop
While I would sit in silence as a child and listen
To old redneck men explain the world
To each other
And I would pray they were wrong
Like somehow I am going back there now
And telling that kid
Just by sitting at looking at the water
That they were, in fact
Wrong
And that one day he is going to be okay
But I can't help but be depressed
That this is where I have to go
To meet him
These hibernating places
I wish I could meet him in a place
That doesn't look like it'd be perfect
For a mob murder body drop
I know, though
That crystal clear beaches on
Warm summer days
Isn't where my past lives
Thats the kinda place I'll go
To talk to my future

Mixing

What am I
But a poem?
Collecting constantly from
Buildings and broken
Pipes and broken
Dreams what
Am I if not
A poem
At night
After a day
Of observation
A collected weight of the day
Dumped by the bridge
Under the street lights
Mixing with the moonlight
I am a lengthy poem for sure
It has taken a long time to write me
It wont be easy to read through all of this
There is no instant
Anymore

Horror Film

I shake my foot in silent moments
Blame it on the coffee
But I know its because I'm trying to escape
Just being inside this body
When will I get out of this place
And into someone who gets out of bed?
It's too impossible at this point
To expect this body to change
I know nothing is hopeless
But I also know I won't ever leave this body by shaking my foot either
It doesn't mean I stop
Hopelessly fidgeting

Did you ever watch a movie
And see a character from the film
Hang out with you during the credits?
Popping up now and again
To entertain those in the theater who are still left
Too much of one thing or another
To leave
That's me
It's time to move on from this movie
There's a chance for the new to begin
But I roll down the screen in the darkness
Because I'm just too afraid to leave.

And I am also afraid, my dear, that my true blue root
Of addiction
Is a fancy I have for
Putting my hands around the soft and beautiful throat of my potential self
And hearing him gasp for air as he chokes to death
He's been holding on for so long-my potential self
He's been kicking and holding into my wrists since I was 16 years old.
He's a fighter alright
But I can hear his breaths getting softer
And his eyes are all red now.

Lifetime

Every time I think the movie is over 
It's just a commercial break
Who knew I was living in a mini series
And not a movie of the week?
But the shot goes from wide to zoom
And I wonder who am I
Standing out in the cold
This week I am just the guy
Standing outside 
Of the clinic. 

Opera

One time I laughed at a joke
During an Opera.
It was even in
Another language.
I was so proud of myself
For understanding
Well enough to laugh.
Now I realize I am always
Looking
For that.
A chance to understand things
Well enough to laugh.

Frozen

Dupont fountain is frozen
Its time that I start to
See that I am the
Same as the coins
Stuck on the
Bottom
There

Smells Like Smoke

Your house burns
Down in flames.
Tell me when
You can tell
That your house
Smells like smoke...
Is it too
Late? Its too
Late I know
It is.