Aircraft Carrier

Это все.
I would drop these heavy bags
Right now
If I knew I would die
Tomorrow.
The things we carry,
A bloody disease, a balloon of hot air,
Why do I assume I will keep on living?
Sea gull insanity prometheus fooling the deities.
The things we carry,
Wheelbarrows, bureaus full,
All the ticking-time-bomb gold watches,
Collected earthly possessions heaped
To be looted by thugs in spectacles and uniforms
Melted down or burning,
The things we carry
Anger, honor, shame
All the dropped calls,
Parent's blame,
What ifs and whys
We're all in line for a cold shower,
Ash and soap.
I should've called you sooner,
I should've knocked on your door
I could've said something differently,
Could've lost it all.
Why do I keep on
living? Could I be different?
How could I keep living,
While I split the plunder and pull the
Trigger, or worse, sit silent, sip death's tea
How could I be differnt from
The mayfly
Today live tomorrow die
No time for bucket lists' last good-byes
Just the blink blink drip drip blatt blatt of
The eye
Everything like leaves must die, light a candle,
Shadow I blearing away on a teardrop life
Flood playing for
An ark, a love, for air, for blood.
When I kissed you, I didn't think
I was the only one
Eye shutter to think, brain reeling
This passing photography my my memory
We'll be erased
At best might translate
Like some dull thud into afterburner,
An angel tongue.

LA Afternoon La Brea

LA, last of the day light
Panhandling, playing to get into the museum:
Art for art's sake.
The Russian mother is counting somersaults
Один, два, три, четыре
The evening sun slants towards me illuminating
Leaves laughter with light gleams

Couples kissing, why not me?
Rest a bit, sonny, please
Fossils, worries of life, tar pit sucking.

Today is a day alone,
but beautiful.
I kick myself over trivial things.
Soul sing, the day is lovely,
I don't care if you're
Dehydrated you had tacos today
From a place that has New York Subs and Kimchee
American glories.

A perfect breeze, a малчик laughing
Let it be, let it be
Space and Japanese photography.
Oh the kindnesses of strangers,
I got to sing,
And although I climbed a hill in hopes of seeing
The Hollywood sign for Squeaky,
What foolishness,
There is grass beneath me with far more beauty,
Far more worth committing to memory.

So let Мама chase the giggling,
Let the girl on the bench read,
Leave the lovers to their kissing
Might be a little smoggy, but sky's still blue,
Breathe a little, buddy.

Lord, Forgive

My arrogance, in which I am slow to seek you
My lust, in which I desire all else but you
My fear, in which I shrink from you and your call
My worry, in which I strive and flail
My selfishness, in which I consider myself better than others
My pride, in which I ignore my need and my community
My greed, in which I don't find you or anything else enough
My thoughtlessness, in which I am quick to hurt and offend
My frustration, in which I complain and stress
over trivial things
My apathy, in which I choose not to feel for fear that compassion or
caring will overwhelm me.

In all these things Lord,
I have shown myself foolish, calloused, and
downright rebellious.

You are certainly enough
My life, my breath, and my true love.

Poeting

I want to taste that sun-blobbed ink on my tongue again,
Swallow it down like a toasted starburst,
A explosion of coloured sound from the mouth
That iron taste of blood at the lip,
I want to get in the ring,
Corona, rays soaking skin
Warming the moist soil within
And as the smoke begins to curl,
The ignition begins to turn,
The words come, bring it on,
I've gnawed Dillard's universal jagged leaves
For what seems like eternity,
I've gotten busy living,
But it's time to listen and speak
Raise the sails and see where the breath leads,
It's time, taste
The metal to the mouth,
The cracks and bends of the bone shop,
Knitting syllables into threads into sunlight into
the work lines in my palms poetry.