Tuesday, December 24, 2013


I found my resolve 
Spitting at my peace 
Grabbing at that clock
The one I nailed up there 
The one I watch 
As it watches 
I found my resolve
I slipped into it 
With its rapid underbelly 
Pulling me breathlessly 
It gave me fear 
Of choking 
Of the drag
I found my resolve
And it promised nothing 
And took everything 

Friday, December 20, 2013

This Bliss

I know what God looks like 
That smile when I met you
The laughter that we shared 
How my cheeks burned
I have seen God before
In those frequent moments 
When our eyes meet 
When they really know each other 
I've felt God before
In the dead of the night
When your hands are there
When the grasp for me
I know who God is
And it in this
This bliss

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

I Am Big

I am big
Going way deeper 
Than the weight of my voice 
I am big
Stretching past the sun
And into that blackness 
I am bigger 
Than my eyes 
Than places they have seen 
And all that they have witnessed 
I am more 
Than what I've been given 
And certainly, I am more
Than what I have given 
I am there 
Where you've realized 
Your weakness 
I am there 
When you know 
Your strength 
I am big

Saturday, November 16, 2013

That Voice

You're that voice
That I've always known
Under a waterfall of "no"
Beneath layered lies
And the truth I twisted
You're that courage
From my youth
And my drunkenness
The ripple you cause
The light weight
The euphoric righteousness
You're that knowledge
That quietly pulses
Under my veil

Monday, October 28, 2013

I Wrote This in My Dream

You live in that space where
Nothing is resolved
Standing between anger at others
And fear of others
You doubt even your own mind
Because you were the only one
That you trusted
And you failed
You stand in darkness
Crying out for help
And desperate for assurance
Giving out your signals
To a world you find hostile
And you never realize
Your power

Thursday, October 3, 2013

Storyteller Lover

I had a dream of you 
We threw our names into the sky
Watched them fall into our eyes
They were dripping with the future
Smelled of promises and lies

We dipped our feet into the stars
Wrapped our hands around each other 
How much space can we cover
Do tell me how much time I have
With you, my storyteller lover

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Bubbly Wine

Speak to me softly
With the words of your hands 
Pitter patter love me 
 And know I understand 
Your hands 
The soft tones of your hands
Don't let me grow older 
Let us fall as we stand 
Whisper to me 
Your love and your brand

Tuesday, September 24, 2013


Last night, I cut away my hair
Beat my bones till they were bare
Saw the fact that you were scared
Saw your eyes and that they cared

Now you see my dark and true
You see the black I have for you 
But the realization of its worth
Will lead us to our second birth

Thursday, September 5, 2013

A year with Jon David.

The beginnings of any romance are the easiest. It isn't hard to lust after the unknown, or to want the newest available model. Too many, I think, confuse this with the sweetest part of it all. Yeah sure, there are the prolonged glances, the smiles caught by the corner of your eye. At the beginning your heart will pound with nerves and exhilaration, you'll be nervous.  You'll be blind and happy. But, as any mother will tell you, the birth of it isn't the best part. 
I met Jon David Sanders on September the 6th, 2012. He had contacted me on Facebook to see if I would sing at the Cafe he was managing. Being out of work and in need of money, I counter offered with being a waiter and singing on request(which I never did). I got lost finding the place, 75 minutes from where I lived at the time, and was ten minutes late. I stumbled in the front door and there he was. Taller than I was, beautiful blonde hair covering his face, the biggest pearly smile, and piercingly grey-blue eyes. And I was taken. By his smile, by his delicate mannerisms, by his deep southern draw, I was taken. We met up every night after work. Then, we met every night in general. He took me to the best thrift stores, the best places to eat, taught me everything there was in my new big city. He met all of my friends, my family, smiled and spoke to anyone I said I liked. He constantly bought things he heard me talk about.
And yes, it was completely sweet. If I could describe the taste of that time it'd be nectar, but it wasn't by far the best of it all. The best I had to wait on. The best moments were when he cried, when he trusted me to be weak. The best moments were when he laughed, and I was the source. The best moments were when it wasn't sexual but it was intimate, and it was close. The best moments were when it was boring and safe. The best of it all were the expectations, the responsibility we had to this thing that was bigger than ourselves. 
This relationship is past it's dawn, but I have been enjoying the morning.
I love you, Jon David. 

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Mes pleurs que ta voix parle.

Come to me, 
sweet fear. 
I taste the sugar 
of last night's 
wine from your lustful mouth.
Oh, how I savour that 
memory of you, 
dressed in nothing 
but my watchful eye, 
as I bathe in my own 
validated self and 
personal promise. 
What a pleasure and a suffering
is the flame of an encounter, 
and how I love the burn.

The Beauty that You're After

All I want is 
open fields,
open fields, 
open fields.

Wednesday, August 14, 2013


This voice is someone
else's motivation. I will start
reading into the potential
of the miracle that is 
silence. I will give an ear to
the momentum of the present, 
keeping one ear on the door 
of hope. You know the one, 
that barrier that sparkles, numbing 
all your fears by the power of 
distraction, giving you ideas 
that ruin your life. Is it time 
that you wait on? Because I've 
never recieved a payment for my 

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Mother Moon.

It was late, and I had already forgotten who I was and what it meant to be awake. The clock pushed, quite relentlessly, into the space of silence. The hour where fear becomes us and darkness is a cage, comes slow enough.
I watched, under cover of my porch, as dreams danced proudly until they disappeared behind the anchor of their golden light. The light that had flood the street, bleeding onto stages such as my own, called them back, drawing them in with the promise of safety and a normal facad. And, I wondered nothing, yet only sat with hope of being overtaken with it, wonder.
Had it not been for the merciless heat, which the pavement seem to force feed anyone willing to stand in its presence, I would have never met her. The grand veil I was wearing, woven with pieces of artificial lights and prepackaged ideas of the definition of grandeur, lifted from me. I raised my face, wet from circumstance, and saw her very plainly, the moon. 
How enticing and majestic is the far and the mysterious. How delightfully familiar and unknown did she seem, and at such a moment when I had been momentarily blinded by the mindless and the mundain. Here I was, ready to give into a plastic, predetermined state of loving and living, and in strides Mother Moon. She comes bearing only the truth of something bigger than my eye, evidence of something holy and primal. She is the old beauty and longing. And with her painful faith, I wonder when it was I last saw her.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Golden Glow

For I am dying 
swaddled in the comfort 
of my shroud, 
through which I see,
with course clarity, 
the joy of the world. 
I will not fear
that which I do not know.
For what I do know
is life and love, 
and love and life eternal.

Monday, June 10, 2013


No one can comprehend
The morning
Not like one who stands at its threshold
Mutually giving it
That smell of renewal
And hopefulness 

Saturday, June 8, 2013

Delay Me

He took
a slow drag from it,
pausing to perfectly hold on
to the clear, marrless night air.
He felt it's familiarity 
burning down into that place 
where he kept all his reasons 
why he never questioned 
the tantalizing pain of the flame. 
And then,
as though to mark his name
into our fears of the dark,
he released it all,
all that hot reverence 
he had for the world
and it's confines.
How he relished
in the view 
of the push towards
his own personal respect
going up in the smoke
of his savored self-indulgence. 
And how he hoped 
that someday pleasure would keep
from fleeting from sight,
and fading into the night.

Monday, June 3, 2013

Blurs of Yesterday and Tomorrow.

He walks, bent 
by the weight of his echoe
from yesterday's cry. 
How he mistrusts those 
characters he created 
so long ago, and now 
how he carries them
behind him. In front
of the world, he drags
that dog, a fierce beast
he hasn't loved since 
it was murdered by his future.
Oh, and how he floods 
the past, tying the weight of 
his tears to the airy 
reverb of his laughter. Never hearing
the truth he seeks to speak,
he lies down into the night. 
The night, where we all meet 
blurs of yesterday and tomorrow. 

Saturday, June 1, 2013

Complete Space and Time

Vilify me, 
for my body must 
whisper into his
under the canopy 
of the apple tree. 
The budding branches 
drop its fruit all over, 
and watch as they roll
off our backs
into the tree line. 
We have never been 
anywhere but here, 
yet what a journey it took
to be present, 
to be so undeniably 
in love. 

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

The Coffin and the Cradle.

Sat directly in front
of me, only allowed to see
a quarter of you,
your face, my eyes
are the lamp light. I flood
every memory, I feel
every year that you are. Me
and you are alone, but not
far are the towns people, the gods
that live in their minds, only spoken
to reiterate their power. Less
time was given to Rome, than we
need to understand the mirror. Your eyes
remind me of death, the great adventure
into life. Where did you first breathe
and when was I born. Into you,
into time, to death, and me.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Is He God?

Why do more people at the bottom 
look upwards? Have I forgotten how 
to become less? Has comfort stolen 
my memories or the struggle? Of God?
The man out my window is black
and how I fear the night. It's broad,
his piercing white smile. And he knows
he invokes my humanity. Where is my
real reflection? Is he me? Am I responsible 
for his smile?

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Tennessee Wheat

Every stalk sways
dancing to the push 
of a forceful world, 
blowing history,
evoking visionless traditions.
Every strand is accounted
as woven and thread, 
with security in the routine. 
I never saw a single,
individual stalk 
stand straight up 
towards the Heavens, 
or the opportunity that occupys 
the morning Sun.
All I can see 
is this ocean of one. 

Saturday, May 4, 2013

When the Smoke is Gone

'Man, sometimes it takes you a long time to sound like yourself."- Miles Davis

Sometimes silence is
medicine for the unattainable.
A chilled drop in a boiling pot
appeases your denial,
but nothing soothes time.
You've held the matches,
afraid of the burns,
but a fire always turns
to smoke and then

Thursday, May 2, 2013

First Love

Wet across my lips
Soft across my heart
Surging through my fingertips
Pounding till we part
Your hands wrapped around my hips
Have been since the start
You can drink me in in sips
You can have my heart

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

No sense.

My eyes opened
Countless dreamy dimensions
Colliding into some nearly forgotten
Painting of a lie
The only currency was the gold
Lamp light bouncing
The only thing left to buy
We figured out where tomorrow was
Yesterday had long passed
Into the realm of regrets and fond memory
Where we all find our pacifier
Self satisfaction
Is a horse with no reins

My eyes open.
Pale light dances down
the wall to your face.
My face feels
the blood rush of dehydration.
This body has traveled
many miles of time,
of darkness.
I am thirsty,
and it is a present condition.
I bathe in this light,
clean of the night.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013


You may call me
a blasphemer,
a ridiculous optimist,
one groping for blindness
or sight,
but I can't help feeling that it is all
I can't help feeling that I am
All of their words,
painted on my face,
fade like the tags of a former
lover of the streets,
coward of the night.
This clay world with out me is
I am the river.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Jack Jack

Every morning
To the sound of his opening eyes
He pops to his feet
Resiliently grinning
As though to spite those who aren't
He wags his tail
He thrust proof onto the world
"This is for those who pretended.
For those that feign ignorance of me."
There is no weight
He does not understand regrets
Choreographed, he sniffs purpose
Lifting his dancing feet down the hall
There is no obstacle at the foot of your bed
Soon he is searching for your eyes
Yearning for the recovered
Hoping to teach you
Every morning
He wakes up clean

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Let Me Down Easy

On the day that I die
Push my body to the sky
Secure the anger that I tied
To someone who is justified
Let my eyes be set aside
Allow my life to be the guide

May my bones be made of glass
Filled with questions I did ask
Clothed in all the time I lost
Above my riches and their cost
Bathed in the white I never allowed
My own good becoming my shroud

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

"Fag" "Love"

It was there on his chest
Was it on mine?
I never wanted to be
the cattle of a movement.
I wanted flattery.
I needed the validating force,
the historic power of a "you and I".
Let someone,
give to me
Grandma never had to scream,
march for it.
What a painfully easy,
 flaw of a promise
she willed to me.
Pulling up her onions,
cultivating all she deserved
from the world,
from her master.
Why was it not mine?
I assumed as much.
As a child I did
Where, oh where, is the faithful
idea of deserving?
I have sowed a life,
but they took the reaping.
Now, here I stand in the middle
thoughtfully branded with it.

Right Here

We know where we are
No clue to where we goin
It's our right to be afraid
But we busy with our lovin
I see just in front of me
But the clock, I hear it tickin
When will we close our eyes
And realize that we dreamin

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

It's Brewing.

A warm wind is brewing.
The traveling force
 of green pastures, flowers,
and the sweet, over-powering
smell of honeysuckle is rushing
to meet us. A brighter sun
travels faster than a mother
to greet her wandering child.
A cooler, refreshing rain
will cover us, blanket the ground,
drowning us in the bloom,
the rebirth. Windows will open,
and we will all expose ourselves
to the tantalizing danger of the sun.
 The Earth will start to heal,
to repair the anguish of a raging Winter,
inspiring us all
to forgive,
to see each other plainly.
And, in turn, our hearts will heal.
Our souls will start an eruption
of creativity,
 the type of thinking and loving only done
 when Spring comes. It will sweep us away,
It will clean us. We will learn living
through it. Glimpses of hummingbirds,
will teach us the meaning of a companion.
 The resurgence of a lost vibrant color
 will teach us restoration.
Spring will give us no option.
It's brewing.

Friday, March 1, 2013

Love Music

What is the sound of love?
The floor creeks and I hear it
I feel it's vibration underfoot
My heart aligns with its rhythm
Feverishly beating
What is the sound of love?
The sufferable silence made
Crisp and clear nothingness
Created with patience and care
Stale air loudly advertising
The absence of
What is the sound of love?
The delicate turn of the hinges
The careful tiptoe forward
And the volume's on full blast
What is the sound of love?

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Shine bright, Lavinia.

Hey there, Lavinia.
What did you sell today?
"It's night. It's over." I hear you say.
When you remember, will you pay?

My innocent Lavinia.
Have you painted in the dark?
Daylight be nature's truest narc
And shame can't erase the brush's mark.

Come on, Lavinia.
Truly what's your biggest threat?
Bliss is in the freedom to forget.
You can't sell your name to pay your debt.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Love Liberates

I saw you dancing yesterday 
In my dreams
Your feet were clay
What a strange and lavish creation
And how you swayed on your foreign foundations.

You'll never really be that flame
You'll not dance
Your feet are tame
You threw away your one, true salvation
Too scared of love and your own liberation.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Threading Tangibility

A marble, shimmering,
rolls across every ridge,
sweeps between every groove
of an aging floor,
in a house that fades.
bleached to the palest form
of some semblance of red.
Sweat glides down my back,
through my spine.
I'm hot, dry
from the heat of it,
this house,
this chair.
Just when you start
to doubt,
to fall into eternity,
the air burns,
and you feel the fire.
The world has a thousand pictures,
but when you are effected
you are here.

Monday, February 11, 2013

On the edge of dusk.

Did you know
I wanted to wow
The world?

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Under the Cover of Day

There are those few
days with the clouds
hovering over and through us.
It is then I take it,
cream in my coffee, larger
breakfasts, and longer,
lingering dreams.
On those early days
when I marinate in it,
the delight of personal allowance,
I push to worry.
A prepared concern,
reminding myself,
"It is those who have
known fear, that truly realize

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

"It runs along Southern."

I hear
it, the foreboding force
of a hot pushing
river of steam. Screaming
out the unsettled conscience,
a swift seeping of
bold, boiling longings for
others, for changing. Me,
I marinate in it, in it's healthy
poignancy. Nervous with it's involvement,
it's knowledge of my potential, I lean
deeper into my porch steps. Oh, how
trains cut through thirsty paintings,
leaving only tracks
of fear and dangerous
new ideas. I want
only not to
doubt, to

Monday, February 4, 2013


Once there was
a cat,
and completely wild.
I went to it
the rescuer,
and guided by helplessness.
We came together
a shadow in the sun,
and then it bit me.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Red Balloon.

The wind pushed
me and my body
asking for a reaction,
that I refused.
Though, mind seemed to go
there, in defiance.
What if I was moved,
taken in by the wind?
The exhale of this world,
this world I claw and craw
to take hold of,
to hold on to,
finally directing me.
Am I strong
for saying, "No.''
Am I foolish
for doing what I know,
for attaching value to that?
I remember the child
that stood and watched,
as it traveled.
Watching the sun pierce
that lucid, red balloon,
I grew envious.
What it must be like to go
Blind and full of vision.

Saturday, January 26, 2013

My hate.

My hate is
My personal,
Negative reflections of
We are
Of me.
All of us
Variating this body,
Where I
Fester in insecurity
And it belongs
To you,
All of you.
A cycle of incivility,
I am casting
The stones of my
And feeling
The bruises of yours.

Monday, January 14, 2013


I'm inside with it
all, the bleeding
results of my insatiable mind.
I can't bare
the thought of standing
dry, abandoned
in the force of a world
identical to myself.
Is this greed?
No. But can they
understand the difference
between my needs
and the wantings of the market place.
Would any man give
thought to my soul
as it struggles, as it sways
upon the auction block?
I could sell,
give away my projections,
let them decide the cost.
But, when it ends,
when the bidding storm dissipates,
as I stand in the raw
what will be my value?