Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Aurora Borealis

Winter time finds me,
with the onset of the cold,
wanting only to flee
this town
and drive five or six hours north
to a latitude of higher geomagnetic activity
where the Aurora will shine green and red and brilliant.
Where we will take pictures with your Holga
and cross our fingers that they turn out.
Far away from the town-glow
the terrible side effect of strip malls
that follows you for 5o or 60 miles,
and 20 some odd years,
until you are far away in the dark.

The trick is catching it.

Calculating that exact moment
the perfect latitude
the right moon cycle
the juncture when that storm of space dust
will burn brilliantly overhead.
Find someone on your exact same wavelength
and try to freeze time
with a picture.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008


you and me kid
right back where we belong
between the wars

with oblong heads
and geometric bodies
filled to the brim with primary colors 
and political agendas

tired lonely pissed

and that sculpture looks like wood
from far away
but if left outside 
wood would rot

so we both know its not. 


I heard a wild crash two blocks to my right.
They had knocked a piece of the sky loose
during construction.
It was blue and serene
except for the one shard dangling
over the clock tower. 
It is the oldest building around here;
The only one with a clock.
I guess I was the only person to hear.
Or just the only one to stop. 

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Word Riot

Keep an eye on the poetry section of
"Quandaries" and "Underground" will be showing up in one of their future publications.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Moustache and a Trumpet

I listen to the universe
and suddenly I am a
history in rust
thrown back to
long wintry
through Ontario
buying donuts
at our last chance to use
US currency
forgetting gas is
measured in liters
up here
where the air is thinner
and my heart beats quicker
just remembering you
and I

Monday, October 13, 2008

Learning Commons

the uppers and the downers got
in a fight inside my head
thought someone was breaking in the house
and the imagined creaks and
bangs of robbery
interrupted the self-induced
orgasm I was
I should really lock the door.
Popping pills to stay awake
long enough to work out
all the work
Smoking bowls to fall asleep
long enough to wake up
and work
Self-destructing for success
earning degrees
measuring degrees
of sanity
walking cold bricks home
thoughts racing
waking thin lines between
taking meth head as a compliment
thinking and writing
"the time is now 11:30 and the library will be closing in 30 minutes
if you wish to remain please move to the learning commons on the second floor"


in some fundamental way
this cello captures
everything that is sad
and beautiful in the world

the hard rain of gray days
the solemnity of funerals
the joy of weddings
the complexity of solitude

with every reverberation of the strings
i remember dark days of
childhood and wonderful ones as well
and i feel peaceful
but inadequate.

Tuesday, September 30, 2008


6. 15. 2008

Your hands and feet...
I like the bony places
where I can see your 
fragile framework.
Every interlocking part
that makes you -simply. 
Layers after 
that make you 
remarkable-  remarkably. 
Against all odds
against all expectations.
I like the thick skull 
that anchors your black hair

the deviated septum
that makes you snore
then quieter 
when I kick you. 

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Color Wheel

November 14, 2007

I miss your blue cashmere coat
Your black Honda CRX
Our white bird house
The yellow dollhouse doorbell
Your moments of pink compassion

That seem to have been replaced
by this sea-green depth between us.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

boiled eggs

I am realizing a great many things these days
like the 
should have dealt with this differently feelings
of unsophistication 
that accompany
the filling of voids with 
drunken desperate fucks
on late lonely Saturday nights
and hazy early Sunday mornings
rife with ulterior motives
and hiding true feelings
with a thin veil of 
Cool Hand Luke indifference
slipping through the floor boards
when the warden ain't lookin'
the "i don't want anything serious" lies 
told when one knows they have 
and been cast aside
thrown away

the unwanted 
wanting so much

having no idea what we really want 
at all

wishing we could eat 50 boiled eggs 
to prove our worth

ain't nobody can eat 50 eggs.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008


I want that right-brained brilliance
that accompanies mental illness.
That invisible inner-cerebral muse
whispering a poetic genius.
I want that megalomania -
The imagined greatness
born of melancholy
raised by decades
and immortalized in anthologies.
The sexual deviancy in the past
that haunts and whispers
and be brilliant."

Monday, September 8, 2008

Late Nights (a haiku)

It is scary how
little it actually
has to do with love.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

April 24

It is daily now that I am struck by the beauty of the world surrounding me.
I have skipped classes for dread of going indoors.
I have seen bees soar above my head in a mating dance
that is intricate and violent
passionate and dangerous.
I have felt the love of the sun on my shoulders until it was seared in.
Only the sting at night to remind me of its warmth in the day.

Sometimes I care so much that it hurts
it overwhelms me
and makes me helpless.
Sometimes I want the relief and refuge of indifference.
The burdenless beauty of self-centeredness.
If only I could pretend that the world was a centrifuge spinning endlessly around me.
That I was the eye of the storm - everyone else an inconsequential raindrop.

It must never hurt to be self-centered.
To never feel the ache of empathy,
the incurable sadness of mourning for another's pain,

the hard sting of beauty

the inadequacy of words.

Thursday, August 14, 2008


I hated it when my mama would pan-fry hamburgers
the smell would crawl up the stairs and settle into
every fiber of my carpet and clothing.

You have woven yourself into my life
every photo and ticket stub
you have crawled up my legs and settled into my mind.
You sneer out from every poster on my walls
every blanket on my bed
every intersection
every movie theater
and restaurant

and i want to hate you
like the greasy smell of
dead frying meat.


I almost cried when i realized
that airplanes held no more
magic for me.
A strategic combination of
fuel and speed and
No longer the alchemy of people
in the sky

where they don't belong.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

July 10 2008

That is when I love you most
early A. M. drives on expressways
coffee and cigarettes
the bright sun over our left shoulder

windows down
fast breeze

There is no more linger 
about us
no more intense "stay with me"
no more late night swims
no more house to ourselves
no more family gatherings

I want to empty our change purse
and count what is left
for us.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Natural History


i was too scared to walk
into that room
the scale model of the womb
red lights
heart beat
umbilical cord
The origin of every notion of comfort

i went halfway around the world
to wander through museums
pretending that i came looking for
great masters of art
hearing instead
school groups
running and yelling
nearly knocking over the collected centuries 
not understanding
"Please Do  Not Touch"

i went looking 
and found grown-up
ideas of "Please Do Not Touch"
grown-up feelings of guilt

i went looking for me
instead i found you



you sit google-eyed 
on a bench
wanting only to tell the black woman 
who just got off the train 
that you like her bag.
A tall, gray man once said 
"the heart never fits its wanting"
does yours?
you want for nothing

i want to be you
roaming the underworld
with a rolling suitcase and 
a bunch of grapes

no wants in my heart
five teeth in my mouth
500 voices in my head

a smile on my face

Saturday, June 21, 2008


June 20, 2008

The intestines of the fire
are a scale model of the
Grand Canyon
Red Rock
We sit around and discuss art -
"are you a fauvist?"
"i'm an I-don't-know-vist"

How many debates
revolutionary whispers
circle the flames
like the ash flakes of the
burning cardboard
some float up and
some stay still and
burn hot.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008


March 31 2008

      I wanted to push those bricks back together
                          cement their fissures
      repair the erosion of time
            use a steam roller to
seal them in  a moment
            somewhere before they'd
learned of pain and division.

Monday, June 9, 2008


I am the new poetry editor for next year's edition of Sphere, the journal that just published my poem.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

A meditation on a friend

April 4, 2008

You express wonder like a child.
      It invades you and sets up 
camp in your face.
                     Glowing outside
                                  from within.
Your eyes spread
          and your crystal blue irises
sparkle. Your pupils reflect 
the object of your adoration.
I want to be that object.
           I want to cause that 
magical reaction in someone.
           Make my image the one upside
down, frowning back at 
me. In those wonder pools
            Black-hole pupils bending 
the space time between 
body and soul. 

Monday, June 2, 2008

New Artists

So the chair of the English department here at OU has nominated me to represent the English department on the Arts for Ohio committee.
Tomorrow morning (at 8 a.m. sweet Jesus) is my first committee meeting.
Basically we review a bunch of proposals from people who want their art programs funded.
Some are really cool. 
So far I've learned about 3 awesome artists that may get to have their work exhibited here next year. The three that I found most interesting  are Laylah Ali, Michael Minelli, and Stephen Talasnik. All very different. Michael Minelli was actually commissioned by the Wexner center at OSU in 2006; he did a piece called "Shiny" for them. 

It could be really interesting to have input into what events come to the university. 

Butterfly photos

Photos I took in October at home. 

Sunday, June 1, 2008


I was recently published in the Ohio University undergraduate literary journal Sphere.
This is the poem, in the magazine it appears  on page 81: 


What if God is the fizz in my ear every time
I take a sip of soda;
        The consequence of sugar and acid
      The curse of narrow Eustachian tubes.
 What if we got on a train and left.
       Toronto      India       Anywhere
What if you wore a grey suit 
and I danced a two-step.
      What if we talked?
What if we stopped pretending?
In Chicago       Hershey
                                    Any day now.