Funky Monks and Hemingway

In the middle of the desert with no air,
in the middle of July I cared for so many things
that seem hollow now. Her stare is a chord
of dirty acid music, it’s loud and boring
as that rotten motel
in the town we saw the showgirls
and the next day deep green mountain hills-
the only man in the world with memory
and it’s focused on what came between us.

– Inglewood, CA

20131026_164035

Taken in Los Angeles, CA