These days couldn’t be counted. Lechery,
satiety and lechery
and the age-old itch for inebriation—we played
asphyxiation on the hard school floor.

Hold it in, hold it in;
tonight you’ll be as livestock
with nothing in your dreams—mine was standing
at the back of a train, watching the truncated earth repeat.

It passes in retrospect, a looping spectrum from
green to gray—I caught myself staring
when the alarm tolled in as a cathedral tower.

Bored with the same lesson
but the learning doesn’t end—body of addiction, walking in,
I swim farther to feel.

– Oakland, CA

Taken in Half-Moon Bay, CA


The old serpent striking:
the desperate one,
the spirit who knows those watching me —
look in the rear-view mirror;
over your shoulder like nostalgia,
no, not behind you, inside
but still
out of reach. Rise
to the maker when you kill creation too.

Look down: cliff coast
and a white crest current during
the only moment that’s mattered.
Let go, feel the fall for awhile
and forget the reason; feeling the nothing at all,
you continue to change and be the same,
and that is the only ache in the world.

– Oakland, CA

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Taken in Santa Cruz, CA