I get so annoyed When I see her smiling, Knowing that smile Was never for me. And I might get mad,  I might get over, But I’ll never get even, There’s no way to be. So much love, so much work Went into our treasure, So much blood, so much hurt Went into her pleasure. […]


I am disentegrating, Ash, my face. Level by level, Limestone lifetimes Pass away. Will it kill us? (Mental pressure) I am smoke now, Take me in. Let me fill you, Endless pleasure. Let me pretend You are still my friend. Please, Cast me out, On the wings of your Banishing breath.


He spends most of his time on his back. And not catchin’ dome in the sack. He’s a hitchhiking, steel-spike pitching, Family-ditchin’ Piece of interstate trash. Whose honor, whose home, Whose pillow, whose gold Is his tattered backpack.

Return To Snowbank City

I’m never going back To a place like that, Where no star can be known And a white void Suffocates the soil. Remember? It was a dream I’d had, That the course of our lives had diverged.     I don’t know about you, but I remember the night that I played back this recording […]


Not just an Ancestor, Not just a name. YOU ARE THE MAGIC, AND THE PASSION OF THE DAY, MAMA. Not just my grandmother, You are a Queen; You took the reins, and you saved yourself From history. SHE WAS THE POWER, MY MOTHER, SHE’S THE MAGE. She was a Goddess, Not a product of the […]


Do you doubt that a tree can feel its own pulse In the palms of its hands, In its fingers, then fingertips? My head. These ideas frozen in their Exploded formation Are my branches. Spreading out, Heavily flowering… Scraping against And locking into The branches of cousin trees, Forming an interconnected Canopy of creation.


I won’t stop Feeling this way And now that I know There’s no way to share this with you Or allow you to feel it too, I’ve got to push it to 11. And rise. And not stop. Now that I know you can’t come With me. I can’t stop. Not for the world.

My Descent

My descent is an ongoing Process Of screwing up Winding down Unthreading The ridged walls Of my calcified carapace. Dissolving into a crude Concoction of barely Recognizable Sensory organs, Reintegrating as Whatever I say I am.