I often dream of simpler times–
driving my car to a customer
with a bag full of food, and poof–
gone. Then the memory fades
in an instant. All of time
passing. Right now. Into the ether.
The clock has dropped its weary
hand a tick downward.
The other hand desperately
reaches toward the sun.
(originally published in Academy of the Heart and Mind, Spring 2023)
All the days of work must one day
mean something, being the bastard
children of capitalism, camouflaged
labor, fingers rough from wanting
to swim financial freedom’s waters,
a belief formed from looking sky-
ward, a cosmic agriculture, roots
ever present beneath (and above)
the stadiums, what temporal
monuments we return to
day after day.
(originally published in The Waiting Room, Summer 2023)
hats in the air
fall down salt
shaker
minnows swim
toward waterfall
(originally published in BlazeVOX, Spring 2023)
I slept beneath the mall for some time
to avoid the burden of capitalism ha!
if I could that would be glorious to
avoid the landlord hey look I am in
the parking garage what garbage
all these ads for movies I do and
do not want to see but I would
not know I did not want to see it
until seeing that is the predicament
I do not have the cash nor the time
to spend paying for rent give me
gunmetal cement walls six floors
beneath the surface where I drive
to where not even bugs venture
there I am unbound
I fly in my dreams
(originally published in Train: a poetry journal, Fall 2022)
(originally published in DREICH, Fall 2023)
On the job I steal time already
stolen from me. Taxidermied
deer on beige walls. Nature
in a protein bar. Yes,
I am consuming. No,
I am no consumer.
I push hard
but age miserably
among antlers
while day flees
into night flops
into the far future.
My family will
want bouquets
but you’ll know
what to do.
(originally published in Academy of the Heart and Mind, Spring 2023)
After I axed past the tree-lined path, I turned
the wrench that opened safes of gold with my own
hand. And then I hired someone with wrists
of a little more tension. I should have
never slept in the bed of wealth. I should have
known, in the night when every dreamer is
dreaming, I would sink deeper into that
endless hole of jagged desire until
I was thrust like from a slingshot
through my roof into a room
of mirrors where I seemed to be me,
but adorned in glimmering garbage.
(originally published in Academy of the Heart and Mind, Winter 2021)
betting is fun I bet were I rich I would lose a lot
more than now losing’s not a competition though
at its core it is an apple beneath a heap of peaches
shower soap I never liked peaches have you ever
sniffed steam emanating from chicken Top Ramen
it is not clean it is not soap I dispose of everything
the flame I inhale plastic I ingest plastic waiting on
the clock to change from 12:23 to 12:24 I pour my meal
into plate-bowl snorting steam never inhale too deeply a
pot of cheap ramen I know I am saving money I know I am
betting a lot on fake economies blowing my breath onto
unpackaged carcinogens Michael once said in our apartment he
hoped to never see me eat this shit again this was years ago
soggy noodle soup coiled springs I hold in my mouth tongue
salt nothing but the salt I then lick off my chin it’s nothing just
pennies of salt I will be hungry again soon so why must I savor
every writhing U at bowl’s bottom like each bite will be my last
(originally published in Count Seeds With Me [Ethel Zine & Micro-Press], Spring, 2022)
we again drink through tuesday
on a rooftop around the corner of
where we grew up watching traffic
nearly crash into every other car
at rush hour there’s no room for
interpretation at 6 pm everyone
comes home from work cranky
this fucked economy of waking
to pay bills a sunrise for the rich
(originally published in Penmen Review, Summer 2022)
the work never ends got slurry
in my mouth called schedules or
points of reference for words
beyond words I say can’t
capitalize on limited resources
I have a tiny appetite you said
after twelve hours repeatedly
you are disappointed in the
remaining hours what’s sunlight
what’s wind got to do with well
being the highlight of my week
was assembling a black leather
gaming chair I like to wine
and dine in slow interior dying
(originally published in Rabid Oak, Summer 2022)