Untitled Collection

Untitled Poem No. 5

The lungs are a tired machine.
They take in smoke,
and put out lies.

Is there a cure for wickedness?
Is there a single being without vice?

Let me weave some words to
mend you, dear lungs;
let me give you relief.

The leaves fall to the earth
every year, and become the earth,
to give life back to the trees.
Likewise the the bird’s bones
give way
to make the bird's eggs again.

Even the most distant comets
fall to the sun
to make it just a wee bit brighter.
So breathe, dear lungs.

Take in reason
and put out  the absurd.

For there is no cure for wickedness,
or a being without vice.

Take in free air
no matter the price.





Untitled Poem No. 7

they say failure
lets you learn
and loneliness
makes you want to speak

but i've failed plenty
been lonely
and never learned a thing
or felt compelled to speak

so then,
shall i simply
make everything work?
shall i simply seek
the greatest company?

come close, ancient poets
come close, wisdom that eludes me
teach me your way with words
fill my heart with the lightness
of being

"fuck you" the poets say
"get a grip" reality agrees

fair enough
that's certainly fair enough

suppose i'll try another path
the best ones are too dirty

Untitled Poem No. 11

far away 

but not too far

there is a moon called Rhea

every day 

the light of our star 

shows the way from here to Rhea

I think I left my heart there

even though I've never been

I fell in love with a distant light 

I think

after I hit my head

falling

I felt my head hit the ground

and I looked up, far away,

upon Rhea, the distant moon

and she said, "I watched you live and die a thousand times.

I've watched the trees grow a thousand feet and burn down,

and you can still join the light."

aaand when i woke up

the n urse said her name was R

R what?

i said

"R," she said

"General said'n you took a shell 

in the trench,

screaming, 'Rhea, Rhea

please fix me.'"

so they sent me there with cannonfire

and i wnet far away

Untitled Poem No. 38

here, take this flame

let it light your mind

and home

and stove

let this fire 

into your heart

so it can burn away

your ill intent 

trust me 

this flame came 

from ancient trees

ancient rain

could not kill this holy light

I hand you now

there is no devil 

deep below 

there is no reason up above

take this flame

and light your own sky

make it so

none of our flames die

Untitled Poem No. 63

laying here

among the wires

the condor considers its prey

but it knows

you can't eat a spark

despite how hungry you are

so it looks on 

beyond the wires

flying high on golden wings

up there, far away 

an angel sings

sweet slumbers to hungry birds

"sing," the condor says

as the angel looks at the sun

"it's already singing for us,"

she said

"but if you're hungry

feast upon the tears of the ear

feast upon fear."

and the condor got

z app ed

down

to the 

sp arks

where we lay

Untitled Poem No. 57

what happened before time existed?

well, something made time.

fuck knows if we'll ever figure out

who or what did it

but it's done

the best moments,

like stretched strings,

build tension and snap

and when those moments snap

what are we to do?

stretch new strings

make them sing

and if nothing else,

use dreams to become a king

god knows we spend so much time

in dreamland

even when we're awake

so go to bed 

and wake up for once