Equivocal

A Mom carries her.

Too big to be carried:

     -1x (uncooperative) kid

     -1x scooter

     -1x helmet

     -?x less important things

     -Xx dignity

     -Xx pride

Our Canadian Friends Have Returned

It's not that

cold out

Chilly, yes,

enough!

I'm not

aa cold as

I think I

might be

To the Pain

     Why isn't there a collective noun for Commissioned Officers of the female persuasion? A butterfly knows where she wants to be and she'll get there in her whimsy. The difference is that she's certain to have earned it.

    I might not be the bestest companion on the AT next year, or ever. But, I may be. Expletive?

    I've watched people walk right on down into the woodline knowing more than the eaches. It's some who enrich me. A smirk is always a lie and sometimes a smile is true so long as words are behind them. It's cardinal to me.

    Next time that I need to properly sober up, a truther speaking aloud in my proximity could do the trick.

    There are places where casual conversations are held without shirts on or eyes batted. I only know the direction of the wind because I was taught to recognize it before and the upturned leaves told me that today it is not going to be any different. For some reason those leaves on the west end of their trees have started to turn. They just might be ready.

    It feels random whenever a bird or airplane's shadow overcomes yours on the ground, but don't worry, it could happen again. An anecdotal third of these appear as if this is serendipitous, a chore, or a choice.

    And, if eyes can be piercing, he who I saw can let the lot of us borrow 'em. My shadow has foreshortened into Scooby's. Straight lines on my path beckon me to look aside, where it's better.

Anyway,

    a little contrapposto in the master suite tub was the immediate remedy I precariously and apprehensively needed. Having faculty is no guarantee there is, too, agency.

    Background Microwave Radiation lives mostly in my left footed little toe and left legged calf, perpetually. The rest of me and all of us, too, but it makes it's presence felt within me, for sure.

    "Hello, I'm Me! We don't know one another but we've slept together that one time, in Nashville. Remember?"

    There's been too many bridges burned, too few capital assets realized.

    More swerving phone walkin' then that drunkenness of the literal persuasion.

    I wish that I loved anyplace as much as Spose loves Maine. I believe, also, that "the one thing I really wanna be is happy." I think that, at least two times, there's been a chance of exacting penance. I thought that hummingbirds were only morningtime observances. Gorgeous, like Tristan and Mars in their one time bathtub apparatus.

    There was never any 8mm or camcorder, we were poor. There is no video but there are some relatively good pictures and I still dream every once and again. 

    It's taken me yet another year to realize that buzzed is preferable to drunk, most of the time. Still fucked up. I am phonetically shaky. 

    Sweaters worn on a sunny day here in early fall are like skirts worn when summer starts in Austin. They're unlike a great song whose ending sucks. Athena is not the goddess of beauty and I've met her before I saw a truck, policing. 

    I usually like to pause somewhere near a trash can 'cuz I wanna smoke without littering or bothering too many people. Shadows are good analogs for a mirror, both false and true. I am absolutely biased from where I am the best place to be a kid at. I was fortunately reminded about Wally from the O's family as I meandered along the valley today and got a hug from a stranger. 

    I've gotten my context from veering away, again glancing both left and right because my forward has been misattributed, misappropriated, and wrong before I'm supposed to know if it is the way it seems. Olive, Willow, similar but not Maple trees, here with other foreign arbols on the other side of the bank fail in their questions about my sincerity. 

    If there weren't any receptacles here would here still be considered municipal? I never throw a butt in a can if I can't first put out the cherry. I take exception for knowing where I am and still no one sees me.

    Spikey-ball trees pretend to be more eastern than me, with their leaves and seed pods already spurning and falling on the sidewalk next to me. Autumn and I are temporary. When you see me clenching my jaw or fist, it's probably because I failed at not sharing my pain with you. 

    I lie all of the time so that oblivion is more abstract. This probably would've been an entirely different poem had my computer been working properly. At the time, I thanked the bridge I'd earlier walked over and the holding breath kind of opportunity it invited me to take. I have to be more careful while smoking with a broken me so long as mine is. 

    And there is majesty. 

Ego

I'm out. I'm done, not from you because now has happened and I'm tired. Unsure how

I know that I'm not okay, certain, sure

and thanks for

being there for me

autocorrect me more

Just tell me that

storytelling...

I don't know

what to

say to you

anymore

perhaps or could

I had forgotten all

about her

but she was probably on her phone

anyway, so

I saw you and felt a real honeybee.

They can be scary, but

how many times

have you been stung?

this way

is going, gone once it's

down when I'm writing

for you, me, and/or our unapologetically

fucked up hands can't

write right when

Byzantine reciprocity

is in such a

beautiful place

to continuously be at and

bitten by those

not enough to

keep keeping me here,

swatting, wishing

something would happen

when things already brought awry

are again and always

ready to go the fuck home.

Walk the street.

Be seen

differentiating indifference despite truth being told by the wayside. 

Found

Perception might just be

some kinda

relativity of sight's

subjectivity

mishearing these things to

know those words

without knowing how to use them correctly

and

now another 'White Christmas' again is in my head

sang out too loudly alone to myself

and to those who would listen to

those abandoned that one time

sharing with someone not yet there but

from the parapet I remember

not having been too hopeless from this one time being

optimistic

or even actually thinking

such or and too

much about

the smaller words and waves feeling

more majestic

asking of me not to be 

so 

got

damned

ready

to leave

Maybe a Parable

I feel like yesterday, actually,

actively,

is that which it supposes to be.

It's so far away that,

perhaps,

the distinction doesn't mean

as much as I may think it does and

it feels disparaging.

Nonetheless,

I don't care so much about all the times

where it's too quiet inside

my head as much anymore and

not enough when i'm distracted by apparent

reality.

I agree.

I don't get it

either.

Score another one

for this life and all of

our abilities to potentially

be

participants in continuation.

I've been told by

someone supremely important 

that

tomorrow doesn't exist.

I believe more than I do, did, and

when I don't want

or agree to now

be being tied down by

some circumstance of

existing

in spite of such exquisite consideration.

Another

Today, there's a cadence 

that's not quite right.

I may be more wrinkled now

so the sand just remains right there where

it's only taken another year for me to

fuck around and find out

somethings

and

I'm reminded of the old sand pit

on the playground of

San Luis Rey Elementary

and the clay

that I wanted to believe 

was dinosaur bones.

Maybe, at one time,

I might've been the lead pelican and

every time, at this time, 

that I look to the west,

they're all in lockstep

confusing me, though

I'll like how dispensary questions

are asked and realize good things, so

damn, here again is a good 

place to smoke but

I wish that 

they hadn't

padlocked the

portashitter.

I'm on the right now bus

passing all the places

I wouldn't mind being at again,

wondering,

what would've happened had

I walked this way today, and

is nostalgia organic?

Something made them say 

"I'm glad that I had 

something to say about it" and

it was really important to see

a sign marked 

'trail [is] this way'

sometimes when

there are places where

you're sure

to be wrong and

here we are,

survived.

I've looked at these trees

before they were important

as they are today or

in this unimportant moment

where the shadow cast

by me

feels good.

Kids smiled and waved as they passed by.

View From a City Bus

A girl wearing an inland bikini bottom

fills up a nice newer cheaper car at

the more affordable valley pump with

another

who wasn't present

while still being there

and

neither of them noticed

Home

You can tell the way

the wind here blows

mostly because

all the palms

only lean one way

Nostalgia

     One of those days, when I was in Slovakia, I hung myself out of a window of a proper taxicab, too loudly singing an unexpected track that came on the radio, and one I still sometimes enjoy now but certainly loved in that moment, only just enough to continue staying inside a car that might maybe take us somewhere we wanted to be at.

    Turns out that the southern bank of the Danube appears differently between its day and night times, remembering me to feel optimistic, since I can, actually, see those lights and the river so longingly reminding me then of which direction to head toword, eventually. 

  

    

Shouldn't

Patchy Marine layer, beauty before rolling in like one of those great lakes. And there is an end out there, where I'd like to visit, maybe again, though I'm not sure where the hell two-hundred and seventyish degrees will find me. Even less so now that even the break is obscured. 

I won't disappear with it. Not yet. Not even if I'm loud enough about it.

Not as if it matters or will, or that matter is a pretty good word to use every once and while most things remain good in moderation.

Things appear ominous and those may be part of the reason that I stand and watch the fog instead of diving into it. Also, the water will be chilly again.

Objectively, I regret earnestly enough. Inshallah and it is what it is. 

Proselytize

    I love that she does it and hate that she has to.

    I want this to mean something different because I can't explain it away.

    I don't belong here but no one has actually rejected me, yet.

    Only four more hours until the train spots at the time for the ticket I bought. I might be able to figure it out. Until then, there are the beautiful ocean and women here. There's worse ways to feel as if you might've failed before.

Idioma

     I've likely thrown away more pairs of boots than you've ever worn and you have probably done somethings more cool to you, too. 

Petty

     I tried not and didn't hope to expect much about today but someone else beautiful nearby smells of vanilla out here anyway where, I'm remembering that, somewhere, perhaps, last century, Heartbreakers, would have been an unexpected parkside birthday present, perfectly misunderstood by all parties.

Thoughts When Appropriate is Sleep

I rarely skip Zach Bryan or Cody Jinks, Sublime and Red Hot Chili Peppers.

I never end up skipping Van Morrison.

Del Mar is so fucking beautiful

Rediculous jets roar overhead. Don't worry too much about that. It's only a consequence of whether weather will pay for it being forgotten enough. 

Empirical Now and Hypothetical Then

     If you've ever wondered about inertia, stand and piss (in the appropriate place, please) between those times the train is stopped and moving again.

    No one here, myself included, is home right now when we're all lying to ourselves.

    It's real if she looks back three times, right? Not as if it matters or anything. She walked out with her apparent boyfriend.

    I smoked something near where a guy my Dad knows is on Thursdays, but not entirely on purpose. The cigarette after I realized it was, though. I was pointed out by a dude I wouldn't have expected to. 

    Why do transit cops wear body armor?

oh...

    "Man, I'm almost done with females." "Fuck yeah, fuck-a-bitch." It was announced over the relative roar of their own speaker playing some good shit and the train engine remaining unquestioning. "You ain't gonna be fuckin' gay, tho?" It probably was coincidental, but one of them got off at the next stop after having said he'd do otherwise earlier.

    I'm always awake early again and now I'm remembering that getting up early used to be a tactical thing we did because, when there was only one TV in the house, the early bird got the worm dangled in front of them before it was set on the hook.

    But today, I thought that drinking coffee on a Saturday balcony with a semi-hidden cigarette near the ocean after a long night, now at seven a.m., was supposed and going to be a safe place. It is. I'm just bitching because these morning's kids argue about video games loudly enough to wake up otherwise indifferent neighbors from across the street but not their earnestly indifferent parents from a floor above. Same story with more bits. 

    Junebugs are disgusting and ugly until August when you've suddenly realized that they're our different and their same. 

    I've had 99 Bananas and what a bitch I was.

    I saw a trash bag hung on an end of a fence that looked and felt, from a distance, like a man was there praying. I probably could've realized it earlier. In fact, I argued with myself about it. I don't pray much anymore, but I was inspired for a second or so. I think that I always knew it was a trash bag but, damn, it might've been nice if it had stayed being the thing I saw before I chose to analyze it. It was a praying man for long enough.

    

Truth is in the Place Where You Find It

    Today's morning was smoother and glassy enough for mirrored reflections from the lower echelon of the lagoon to give me a worthy pause.

    It hurts. I'm being wary of skipping the leg so that left foot is on the drop beat, but it's gotta happen. It's dominance was established long before institution told me that's the way it's supposed to be. 

    I was offered a pretty cool job after my explanations for why not to fear that scary sounding snake on the trail, around the bend. I've found that danger resides in reaction because you can't really, successfully, fault surprise.

    Doctrinally or foundationally born, I'd like to participate with you as we pass one another. First, I'm going to feel it out. I am confident and adept. I've finally gotten to define my own Rules of Engagement. I'm a first strike smiler now. Any passive reaction warrants an add on and the moment is always fleeting. I'll wave, tip my cap, say pleasantries, maybe look directly into your eyes. The really good shit earns a conversation from all sides. I fear those with no reactions for they're either more focused or less human or both. We always survive our brief encounters, otherwise you wouldn't know it. 

    A child too young to ever remember that her Mother gave her a choice one day from an amazingly graceful place stumbles now so she might not have to later and I'm appreciative. 

    I find my own metaphor when walking barefooted in this shore at the tideline because, every time I look behind me, my footsteps are already forgotten and washed away.

    That awkward Egret with their mohawk and feigned apprehensions will still snare their catch. I see myself there, in their funky ass walk. Good on you, peer.

    And of all of these indiscernible things, well, I've found beauty in the maths I see everyday, but won't ever quite understand. 

    If you practice until you fail less, you can never lose. And if you point out a gorgeous scallop to a sea searching kid, it will be appreciated in a way that is impossible to forget. 

Elapses' Ellipses

    If you care, there's a difference between where apostrophes live, but let's not talk about commas.

    The peripheral panorama is expectedly breathtaking because I can see the cars that look wrong for being somewhere over there, something near me is chirping, I can wonder if that place that I stood at once in the distance and a few times before, was and/or always was browned like that, I might come to peace with the idea that this bench wasn't here when I was not only able, but willing to run, and that I get to see more since I'm only halfway home. 

    Fuck yeah.

Seaport to OB

    It's good to leave North County every now and again. A date with the East Village and Section 107 called me and I went after a Yoga class paid for by tax dollars earned in the shadow of Magnolia trees unadorned yet with their beautiful white bowls. The game was good unless the score is the only consideration. "¿Quieren algo más?," I asked some surprised people. I was meant to go home but found my way into an interesting convo with an admitted couple of black gay wannabes and missed the last train up.

    So, Little Italy has a Farmer/Artisan Market on Wednesday mornings even when it's cloudy here in July. If you aren't prepared during a glance North on India, you might startle at if that plane is about to crash into something or if what you're seeing is real. 

    Sun is decidedly intermittent. Shirts off anyway. I always get distracted by all of the different butterflies fluttering gently about. All the tourists and tattoos are out. Should you ever need a bracelet with your name sewed into it in five minutes or less, I may be able to offer a recommendation. My two ink chiseled names only others can see carry the weight of the rest of my friends that died for their involvement in our club. Good thing, too. I don't think that I'm tall or proud enough for all of them to fit, and I'm reasonably tall. 

    The absolute coolest shitter proclaims here near the Embarcadero and you'd never know what it was but inspiring if you weren't pierside or inside of it.

    What is that? Smells like a wronged flower. Oh, it's that dude I passed and is now passing me, since I've sat. Maybe a long, heavy, leather trench coat is appropriate elsewear. What do I know other than I'll wait before my next deep breath. 

    I smile at myself as we walk astride rectangular sidewalk patches aside mirrored glass buildings where I see that my quirk is familiar like in the movies. I'm starting to notice that Resting Grin Face is becoming default and it pays off in subtle appreciated acknowledgements along the way. 

    I feel cautiously suspicious in the adjective way with North Island in the Bay to my left and the too small but surprisingly coming along airport expansion on the right. No trolley line construction is in sight, though.

    I'd like to try writing left-handed. Don't know exactly why, but it can't be worse than my scribble is now.  

    Maybe for a half-mile or so, a pair of other pedestrians and I did some leapfrogging. I was only likening it to alternate bounding without the overwatch since my observations serve a different purpose now. When we were all finally stopped together at one of the Coastie intersections, I couldn't help but mention aloud that it appeared as if we were destined to cross paths at least a few more times, earning the opportunity for the best kind of therapy: Unrecognized in real time. 

    Older than my Dad, she walked better than either he or I and could somehow ask questions that didn't feel inquisitive. She made me think that all we've really got are our stories. Liberty Station set us back on our separate again paths, though I like imagining that we'll be a little less alone, ambos, whichever way we go. I will be.

    I'm a blue-eyed, brown-haired, thin (again), mostly Polish and various European mutt, born in Fresno, raised in the O' with some Confederate roots, apparently. I collected cans direct from the complex' dumpsters for discretionary cash as a kid but also ate everyday. I came of age in Mesopotamia. Am I allowed to love in these stories? Am I supposed to feel like I belong to and with them? Have(n't) I (y)earned (for) these conversations I'm choosing to find? Each other's utterance I have the pleasure to hear makes me better now and when anywhere the wind blows me. 

    Damn, I love California for many of the things that disappoint me about Texas. And vice versa, but you can only be in one place at one time. 

    Uniformed Sailor over there. Bus stop dismount. Alone with bags in hand and wearing a walking boot. Fuckin' a, really?! Where are her leaders? Perhaps she's just stubborn like me. I get it, wouldn't recommend it. I'm hypocritical like that. 

    The full peninsular route was going to be too damned long, so I went uphill for a bit. A woman I loved and love still in a different way for having raised our most amazing gift once thought that this state was flat until I brought her here. Everything is that way until you walk it, feel it, breathe it, see it, be a part of it, allow it. Shapes take shape at a slower pace.

    That house up here has a little bridge in it's backyard; a pretty, impressive consolation given someone rather richer built an ADU ahead of what was once it's porch view. There is such a thing as free lemons. I've seen them by going this way today. My start point is observable and doesn't seem as far away as it appears even though nothing is further away than the place that you're trying to get to. 

    And then? There's the coast again. If you look long enough and beyond the guy sleeping on the stairs there, you might actually see something truly wondrous. 

    I reward my journey with some proper Hodad's at the window street seat inside, refueling with a Guido and beer. I was. About to head to Old Town to catch the Coaster but a pretty girl walked in front of me with a minimalist Magnolia flower tattoo that she can't see. I'll still find my way back home, but not until I write most of this from the shore-side park, adjacent to a very public acrobat class and their pounding live rhythmic drum soundtrack. Sheriffs be damned. 

   

Motorcycle DriveBy

reminds me of

Che Guevara

Ask me why

Assumptions

    I might want to ask Hank Green why the western horizon on the Pacific Ocean from Cardiff by the Sea appears subtly curvy when nothing obscures the view of it, but I'm afraid of social media and of being right. Sugar ant pathways look like recently tear stained cheeks. Construction or electrical symbols painted on the tarmac look like a tank icon that any Battle Staffer might be jealous of and I refuse to look up what it means in this way. The coolest bugs don't live here, which I lament, but am glad for when I will see them again. 

    I've already walked this way many times and each of them were new. The only things that we truly know are those we observe and perspective will fuck with understanding all day, every day. Sometimes, I see all of the animals doing weird ass things that probably aren't all that too weird to them. A dude maybe didn't respond because he's more disciplined than I am when writing a poem in my head. I did write this from the point of a stylus while I forged ahead, though. I only digitally erased once. 

    I once drew up a collage of all the unit crests from those I participated with. It was supposed to be a tattoo. I'm glad that I couldn't afford it when I had the idea and now it lives just inside of me. The Army calls them DUIs, which probably is more appropriate than bureaucracy will admit.

    These children for tomorrow sound like today's politicians: whiny and irrelevant to passers-by. I just watched a bee lookin' thing, more bumble than honey or meat, dive into a gopher or snake or squirrel hole in the ground, all nonchalant like, seemingly indifferent while I paused in awe, for I haven't had seen such a sight before. These days, that's rare. I thought that that dude was holding a leash but it was just his phone. I really want to walk again down the trail, high with my friend, because I can't successfully text these memories.

    Once you grow up enough to properly realize that mothers are hot(ter), too, the pool expands and yesterday was wrong. That kid just called that guy beside him  'Grandpa.' He appears to be near my age. "I like your hat." I didn't, but had a minimum of two sentences in repose should he answer (he didn't) in that way.

    I would call people who mostly, understandably, wouldn't answer, to tell a story or, maybe, say some words, but now I write them down. It's better this way, though I'm always unsure. I'm remembering now why I've always liked this track. It's awesome how I remember it.

    I may have never seen such emasculation as a dude pushing a stroller uphill beside his other with only a pup being carried inside. I realize that every time I see a Prius, I think of a nursery rhyme. They've already become endangered and I'll see a weird cybertruck each Tuesday. I wonder if anyone sees me shaking my head, briefly.

 

 

    

    

The Most Expensive Pencil

    Once again, I didn't want to leave.

    I wanted to leave more than always despite the bed calling me back to when the sun isn't up yet, but will be. I flirted with the timeline and damn near missed. She would've waited anyway. She saw me from across the intersection and waited. I shouldn't have, but '"ran" and shared a smile when we had that one time to share a smile with one another. I've been doing this long enough to be recognized from across the street. And, if I'm wrong? I made it, anyway. I'd love a nap, but it wasn't in the cards, or prescience. It's better that way. I can sleep once I'm dead.

    The walk along the lagoon was cordial. I'd be too early to class, but there's a plan for that. Fish'll breach. Monarchs, moths, hummingbirds, and bees will flutter by and Egrets will hunt their shore making me take a double take, wondering if they're little Herons. The Ospreys are out doing their thing. I surely will pause. We should all do this more. The flowers on the trail are starting to wilt but are hangin' on, for now. Desert cottontails will show face and, when no questions are asked about what I'm looking at, neither side will understand. That's alright.

    A conversation in the courtyard after class motivates me. The marine layer is making June's Gloom blush.

    I can slow roll this because the Shanty doesn't open 'til noon. I should slow role this because I'm pretty sure that I'm going to need a pencil later and I wonder if The Shanty accepts random deliveries? We're going to fucking find out. I couldn't walk even a step further without a pencil. I didn't want to, but would choose to venture inland to get one, if I had to. 7-eleven had already failed my expectations, so Uber it is. Jerry will bring me a pack of pencils, of which I have many but had forgotten today, and it's worth the twenty bucks for a two buck thing. I'm the only one on the patio, anyway. Beautiful people do walk by and I wonder if they know that they don't have to try to be beautiful.

    I know where I'm going now! This day is better with a pencil in hand or stayed by the friction of my bad ear and hat that will continue to perpetuate a tan line that I might be the only one to notice or care about. I've heard the train horn signal twice, at least, but none of them are for me. Eventually, but not yet. It doesn't deserve me in this state. 

    I wrote some things down, and believe me, I also crossed some of them out.

    I ended up on Moonlight Beach in the daytime where the surf is just right for me and also hoping that my shorts will dry enough to be less embarrassed when I get to the place that I'm supposed to be at tonight. I mostly judged the tide right. Wasn't worried about the thing that I had to worry about later. Neither was anyone else. 

Adjacent

I used to hate being alone

especially whenever my thoughts 

were with me, too

Now, I never feel lonely and 

I think that I may have found

a pretty good companion

An Observation

A tiny junior lifeguard

covered in sand

carries her board

while the shorter

for another day boys

walk by unencumbered

Nostalgia Realized

That stickiness from the salt

is finally on me today

like it was

on one of those yesterdays

Apparently, 

the sea is like a bicycle

Encounter

Don't psychoanalyze her

Revel in the hazel eyes

     that haven't darted away from yours

Appreciate that she introduced herself, first

Differentiate introductions from attraction and

continue conversations;

     They're more important than anything else

You haven't fucked it up, yet

Don't.

Capaldi

I had sex with a woman and this song, in London,

who I met while tending bar, in Austin.

She was awesome and beautiful,

but I wasn't, then.

Halsey

should... is the most dangerous presumption

I wanna start this out and say

I gotta get it off my chest

I feel you

Got no anger, got no malice

Just a little bit of regret

I feel you more

and now I'm moving with more attention

Know nobody else will tell you

so there's some things I gotta say

Gonna jot it down and then get it out

and then I'll be on my way

...

is she me?

No, you're not half the man

you think that you are

Tell me about it

And you can't fill the hole

inside of you with money, drugs, and cars

Two of three is still pretty close

I'm so glad I never, ever, had a baby

with you

Holy shit, if you only knew

how glad is too meek a word

'Cause you can't love nothing

unless there's something in it

for you

I think that you might be right,

but I'm trying to get better

Oh, I feel so sorry,

I feel so sad

I tried to help you,

it just made you mad

This could be she speaking to me

or me talking to her

And I had no warning

about who you are

I'm just glad I made it out, 

without breaking down

and then ran so fucking far

In my head

I'm the runner

and thank. fucking. god.

There's more to this story.

*Italicization in this piece indicates excerpted lyrics from "You should be sad" by Halsey

Frangipane, A.N, et al. (2020) You should be sad [Lyrics]. Accesseed 06.18.2024 from Spotify.

I DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO USE THIS! but I hope she won't mind. 

A Realization

It was right before I wrote it

and worse after I read it.

gorgeous legs and a too tall sock tan

     I know it's summer now because the girls are more beautiful and out and about, telling their stories to friends who walk beside them and unknowingly to those found behind them, too.

     Young Marines meander by, knowing more than the rest, because they've earned their EGA and are confident in all of the things that they've already been lied to about. They don't know that they're no longer a threat here. I'll see them again before they ever see me and chuckle about it aloud. They won't ever know why. 

     A Sailor not from here passes. No cover, headphones on. In uniform. For a second I had something to say then realized I'm not an NCO anymore. So, I wrote this instead of saying that.

Originally Unmotivated

     I fully expected to just go home after class. I was exhausted. Class exhausts me more sometimes and today it was especially true. But I was surprised when the sun had already come out afterward and felt that home would be wasted on the day. Duke's was closed until later, so I found the Shanty and at the moment it was correct. I'll make the right wrong decision on another day. Maybe.

Something is Written

If I'm with a woman

    I don't write

If I'm not with a woman

    I write about her

Am I the only one who thinks about these things?

If you care

there's a difference between where apostrophes live but let's not talk about commas. 

Also

 The train sways more in San Antonio.

Amtrak

         I made it, if just by the skin of my teeth. I had just enough time for two big rips off two mild pens and also to regret that I had to leave. It's definitely nap time and I hope that I dream of this amazing day. 

If I Could Have a Son

I don't know, Aves.

Congratulations?!

I don't know a whole hell about a lot of things.

I know that I've always thought that you just get it.

You honor all of all of us while being an expert that we only see sometimes

and we're lucky.

We're fortunate that you might have some questions to ask,

knowing that you'll figure it out eventually, anyway. 

I can learn more from you.

I should learn more from you.

Mostly, I'm happy for you. 

I'm happy that you'll prove me wrong sometimes. 

Chuco Town

a text said:

Pulling into El Paso now.

If there weren't you or anything else

I might've stayed here, again,

for a little while longer

people choose to live in this place and I want to meet them

      I can see the 10 on my left as I'm carried east and I know that I've been right fuckin' there in a place that I can see but it seems so far away. I only know that it's over there because the lifeblood of our expectations are taller and mostly painted white. There are mountains beyond the valley where trains before are want to pass through whether I look left or right. Some are closer. Some are almost make-believe. But they're there and I'm on my way. 

There's a bunch of trashed cars burnt up in a random canyon, btw. 

My Ted Talk

How to be Derivative Once Everything's Been Done, Once, Before

Our Thoughts Trek Too

If I had to guess,

they're far more apprehensive of me

and my plausible intentions

than I am of my

perception of their

sudden reception of me

from 'round the corner.

But probably only barely. 

After a Shave and a Haircut

 I’ve never known what it is

to be a newcomer in America,

     but I’ve felt the frustration of communication

     as an uninvited foreigner.

I’ve never felt lonely in a room full of extended family

     sleeping on top of one another,

     but I’ve slept on top of some people

     I sometimes consider family

     and never was closer or

     more alone.

I’ve been homeless, but in retrospect,

     I didn’t have to be. 

     Let’s call it a handicap.

     Today, I only, probably, smoke

     half of my cigarettes because

     I give the remainder to those 

     more transient than I am

     at the moment.

     To-Go Boxes, if they’re on the menu.

I would never have thought that I'd like Country music, but

once upon a time, sharing oxygen on a cattle truck in southern Georgia

would also have been a statistical anomaly.

My first time hearing "Friends in Low Places"

with orchestration behind it was

in a bar that I used a fake ID to get into.

I already knew all the words.

And now I love the Country.

I never thought that I’d meet a conservative immigrant

     until I started leaning a little more left

     and asking a few more questions aloud.

     I forgot once that people could be good, too.

I never, not once, went underfed growing up,

     though my parents and physicians

may’ve thought otherwise at times.

I have since gone hungry too many times.

     Some of those were with warrant, however.

     I believe those we care for should always eat before you.

     But should anyone, anywhere,

     have to ever ask themselves

can of peas or can of corn for dinner tonight

from the parking lot of the Dollar General

     while sifting through the last of the change

that they had honorably earned (but payday’s tomorrow!)?

     The lot does have okayish lighting

     so it’ll be safer to sleep in the car here.

     There’s that, I guess.

I never understood why people

     took their differences so seriously.

     You’re damn right I appropriated that.

     Because it’s fucking awesome!

     I’ll do it again and always.

     I hope you do the same.

     It’s clear to me now that

     we’re far more similar than we are,

     or ever could possibly be,

     different.

I never really believed in

     the things that they were telling me

     and, maybe, that’s why

     it's hard to believe in myself.

An Encounter on Black Canyon Road

    Holy shit, what was that?! 

    She smelled the taste of dust in the air made turbulent by the thankfuly swerving Jeep that may've well as been a Snipe, as far as she was concerned. More concern was immediately warranted. Another monstrosity from the opposite direction had deposited two, still huge but smaller, things on the sunny path from each of its flanks. Just don't move and nothing can see me. They still approached. She watched, holding her breath as they divided and placed her between. Black rectangles appeared forward of them as she felt exceptionally watched.

    Suddenly, the more confident thing had her embraced and she was suspended over the earth, surprisingly warm in some of her spots. If I'm going to fly, I'm going find the best view. She propelled like normal, but this time it brought her up. She was a little scared but unafraid. Vibrations abounded loudly and it appeared as if the things might be communicating.

    The higher thing vibrated a response and then had some warmth, too. I'm still pretty damn high. The subservient thing awed more. We appreciated together, I think. I'm ready to go. The other thing was ready, too, apparently. 

    Falling quickly from her heavens, she breathed again. This is real but now I believe. And she safely went about her day.  

I-65 South

    There was no real reason to get into the left lane except that a pile of trash on the right shoulder was real enough for me. I didn't know what the hell was playing on the radio but it was just as terrible, so I pressed the seek button on the console for some relief. It was cold and I was sweating. I wanted to smoke but mostly wouldn't when my new bride was in the car. "Today is the anniversary of the Columbia disaster," I overheard the new channel's DJ announcing after the static. I listened for context for some seconds and, perplexed, spoke towards the gorgeous wife who already couldn't know me anymore...

 "A fuckin' space shuttle blew up?!"

Something for another day

    I thought to myself, haven't seen a crab in a while, while scrambling down from the beautifully eroded stone bluff to engage with the surf below. Still hadn't after the jaunt, but at least I'd gotten my feet wet. From this angle, it was easy to spot prehistoric sea shells poking out from shore and, also, the newer millionaires up above, probably worrying. Having been formally worn smooth by the tide and by some feet respectively, the sight persists for those who choose to view it. I looked back toward the horizon, out past the break, and felt less ancient.

Excuses

I think that we may slowly be

being poisoned by an absence of good words.

So many adjectives and such

little time to untangle them. 

When does a tale tell itself?

A tail follows, by design.

Do you hear the words when you read them?

Are they pretty?

Do they feel right?

Do you feel?

Is it such a terrible thing to find beauty everywhere?

Why did I have to hate so much before?

Why have I been so poisonous?

A Muse

I don't have anything against Luke (Combs).

I think that I might actually like some of his shit.

I read somewhere that he covered Tracy and heard it was good.

I didn't listen, but by accident.

I don't know, didn't feel right.

It's hard to admit feeling validated for previous appreciations.

Thank you for all of the everything and especially The Promise, Tracy.

And thank whoever god might be for your other moment. 

another O'sider night

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that it took so long.

I'm not sorry that you wanted to throw some punches after I called you out. 

And I'm definitely not sorry that I did the thing that always should be done. 

I'm happy to have done it. 

Bashful but Said Anyway

It feels like a better version of a middle school crush. I don't know what's happening but I like it and I'm going to be weird about it because I don't know what normal is. Yet. 

[x]

I don't know, but maybe, I think.

I thought that I wasn't supposed to have it.

I wasn't supposed to have been reached in the same way.

Had I earned this moment?

I was being taught that our stories are stories. 

Late night note that I don't know what to do with... yet

Music just hits different, right?

There's so much extra context and (bonus) syntax.

I want to write the way musicians speak to me.

I want them to know that I can sing their story, too.

Why the fuck do you need a title, exactly?

I remember driving.

I think it was Tehachapi.

I said that my guilty pleasure was

Ke$ha, now

Kesha.

It's my pleasure and fuck guilt.

Nodding in Agreement with Oneself

There was a time where

I was in love with this track

and I'm unsure of why

until the next time

I hear it again

the right way

Screen Off Memos or a Fever Dream

There's an actual child

and she's actually fat as fuck

at 1:21 in the morning.

    But then again, 

it is what it is.

Pepper tree story!

I saw the chickens

and wanted to be them

Walking down old country roads

is an exercise in trust

Doesn't seem right

being surrounded by olives.

Or Eucalyptus

Thank you,

old, fat lizard,

for allowing me to

hold you for a moment

    You remind me of when

I was young and fast and

caught young and fast lizards.

    Thank you.

The seemingly random

(this is about the pretty, little, red flowers

     and that memory is mine)

I went the right way

because it was literal

I take pictures to share but

the little red flowers are for me

 

I wish that I could tell you 

how to share this moment with me

    Alas, it is but [something?]

Nature and a moment

gave this seat to me

I want to go to 

all of the places where

only the few go

I still say these

things in my head

that I hate to say

This (a view)

is a better story than

I could ever hope to tell

Eventually,

I went to take a drag

but it was already out

    I thanked myself

and walked about

I had to tell myself

to just be there for a fucking moment

That's going to be more fun

when I'm less drunk

I decided before

and realized after

We don't have fireflies

but we've got

white moths at twilight

You only get to see the trees

that no one sees

if you go and find them

The right kind of lost

The pretty little tree

with the pretty and sudden spring flowers

and the caution tape around it

looked more sad than the other

less pretty trees

Walked into the resort dancing

like I was in a Maklemore video

to this fuckin' gem,

I texted to the friend

Sang a bunch in the shower;

Hot water for that Counting Crows song

    (the one with the cello) and

that Lana track

"if you know, you know"

I walked where

fewer people have

I've seen hot girls

walk funny too

Smokin' time.

Just the red leaf

this time

I'm sitting outside to smoke

and wondering,

    are these people like me?

Children + Casino = strange

They look that good

so that they can resent

all of those

looking them down

and somehow

feel better about it.

MPs

I forget, exactly, why 

that night in Hesse

I was arrested. 

But I was, pretty, sure.

    Others could tell it better.

    Others could remind me.

Mostly, I was alone and

somehow I was let off.

It wasn't actually a big deal

but sometimes I remember it.

Chug a' Lugg's

 There's the two types of Chuggs:

   ~the "Chug, Chuug, Chugg," with constant sips and swallows, and

   ~ the long 'Chhuuggg," where the Chugger chugged long and held both close and far before the swallow. The one like gutting a dip before the boss suddenly comes around. 

A drunk guy told me this while I was too, drunk.

Untitled One

My little cigar is

again unlit because

enthusiasm for lighting

was extinguished by

sudden excitement

for that. new. track.

Bedtime

I wanted to but,

I didn't write anymore

because

I couldn't smoke weed

    in the room and

I couldn't smoke (smoke)

    in this or any room anymore and

I'm out of booze and

though there's a good window,

there isn't a view when it's dark outside

and in your soul,

too

But maybe that's why

I always leave the curtains open 

Temecula

Shade on the foothills,

sun on the (actual) snow-capped mountaintops.

I think that I know,

but am satisfied with

being close enough to

being right enough to fit in

with the (uninformed) locals.

I see what I see and

I know what I know.

Sometimes I'm right.

[Ir]reverence

How many things

I have seen before

so words heard were

uncertainly 

expected

unencumbered on a memory

expecting exception

for the 

now, new, few?

Exceptional tall tales

fallow until the backward 

words prevail

until entrails of

surprising suspends

what I've forgotten

and where I suspect

that the deities have fallen fealty 

I died today 

so that tomorrow 

might've heard me

Weight! that's another 

lover loving their

unrealized future

unforgiven then

once again remembered

extremities

double plus ungood

and should is the worst word

skewed is the most truest

unacceptable

forgiving thin

explanations 

and fears' extrapolations 

aghast'd whims

and

sudden realizations 

Said that you

NO

different knowing

for ever

lasting spent

portmanteaus 

could have been

something else

entirely 

Said to Myself

20220901

My introduction to politics 

was through Tupac

But I didn't know it

Poet unknown

Yet, still, I loved Biggie

he spoke and

the hooks held me

Unfortunately

forbidden

I was disallowed

I'd never been to Brooklyn

but I felt it

When I ran to the store

It was because I knew that

the gangs wouldn't chase me

Too lazy

Street justice was 

fast or faster

I was faster

Years prior

I had desired

that radio DJs would just

stop fucking talking

at the end of the song(s)

Yet they kept on

when I would press play

or pause

on my cassette

Those ones that I stole from my Mom

Belinda Carlise was

unimportant but repurposed

She probably doesn't know to this day

Under the Bridge!

Under a smidgen we're told

defined

and so far away but

closer than I could know

My words are write

and wrong

Am I self and

unsuspecting?

Am I lying to myself

or just telling that

I felt older

when I was younger

than I do now that I'm

Old

I was perfect 

because I couldn't be

anything else

I was

ineffectual for a time

until I learned

Harry Belafonte tapes

were as important

as Sublime CDs were

I was on 

the wrongest street

But the writest

think

The things that I wanted to say

remembered

that they've been unsaid

Serotiny

Just remember

I hate myself more 

than y'all ever will

Or could

Should've misinterpreted 

syllables

I'm lonely

I don't see how

it correlates

But I suspect

most things are wrong

I expect

to be told differently

I engender sympathy

When I ask, invariably

[skip]

Why do I wake up?

Uncertain.

Look, maybe I 

will shape 

that thing unknown

the spring unexpected 

is growing

So, tired.

Tried to explain

entertaining 

expectations and

explored altruistic

vacating sensations

where words fall away

Where words today 

are unknown but

get written

anyway

Suppose their relevance

expose

sure, there it is

fantastic

things are

applicable

to a moment

hear

exponential

under

stand

ingress

simply

Here I am

years later

undeniably

denied the 

demise that 

I promised to me

the unexplained

things 

according 

to beliefs

that I tell

myself everyday

And yet

I survive

I write

no wrongs 

but those that I belong to 

A right

is left to explore

surety

that exists,

epidemic

and subsisting

on memories

fallacy 

supposedly 

I can say so many things

no, apparently

I am

me

or not

remembering

purpose

after the

fact is more 

easily expressed

less expected

than those words

that creep up

during the day

exciting me 

in a moment 

forgotten

like a 

goddamned

memory's

undetermined

impact

Like I need

like an analogy  

was supposed to be next

an apology 

for yesterday's parable 

is suddenly suspect

and I'm able

Coincidence

coincides with

condemnations

exciting

Lead [with] trying

to remember

that last time that I

surrendered more

than

I expected to

I don’t know

I never do

I don’t is

Exhausting

is expecting

Is explicit choosing

indifference specific enough?

This is shifting

Everything is enticing

Anything is

Things are

And stories go

But

Conversations forgotten 

are more important

Explanations: mean

I’m just one,

A type away…

She carefully treads

in a picture

Dichotomy

Lonely’d me again

Why are all the last best stories told

When we’re fucked up?

I don’t know

I’m scared

I suppose

I’m not too mad about it.

Fair exposition is

exponentially

exposed

Fail

Telling myself

’Great job, people saver.

With expectations explaining

favor misunderstood

and savoring bullshit.’

Entice something more

and apologize like I do

when writing in another

place.

I’m supposed to face

I save face

I have no fucking idea

how to do those things

How do you 

learn

how to be an asshole?

Why do you regret it,

especially,

when expectations

fuckin’ agree

that altruism denies

such easy possibilities?

Sincerity 

Is the succinct

when you wear it, and

where suspect is too normal

To formulate is the easy way

to expect

facilitations

expectations

suspect

explanations

unexplained

serenity