Do make say think

there is an agreeable honesty
to my life that persuades lesser
demons to loosen out of me...
like water through a flute.
and I've known each second of living
to be wrapped in some version of this sound.

Träume

I told the moon where to go when it spied on me.

tearing the walls down.

- we are becoming the beast.
& we are everywhere,
eyes like
something never ignored
& snoring...

Is you is or is you ain't.

Have a good one.

Sorry but I've been waiting for this, since last Halloween.

I Was a Teenage Werewolf.

under high superstitious ceilings,
sleep is a frightful rock.
a dungeon of paradise
where I find my old self.

& I've seen you
running through your sleep.
busted the way that you are,
mismanaged all of your dreams
in piles near the bed.

[insert some missing photograph here]

I wonder
if, in the end
I will only be left
with the landscapes of my words
to haunt me.
or if somewhere,
there is some unarmed ghost of an era
who can hear these words,
without dying.

Grails