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

Subject's have...

I have a home now

and I'm not alone

because

my other selves are

with me

I have my flaws

lonely

the temporary

lovely

the explanatory

entice is

two times

thought less

about more things

exposing

and suddenly I suppose 

I do that

I'm empathic

emphatic

lead tragic

paradoxes

addicted to a

pain that I don't want

sadistic

a word

I'm want to flaunt

secretly

an adjective

always

describing how

aught to know better

sought an explanation

a rhyme without

passion

and only conversation

is consternation

closely

I be

come instrumental

lest the 

influential 

determine

moreso than

the expected

I have a home now

and I always have

despite

physicality

and so

I have my flaws

loneliness 

is the memory

and lovely

is

Lo Disfruté

I am very passionate
right now and
I can't think of any words

that

I want to say.

Cuando las palabras
son tan faciles
que olvidé

how to think,
how to write,

que es
imposible.

No se,
pero

quiero
find a way

es muy
importante

todas las dias y
everyday

también

Capricious

I lie in bed,
imagining instead,
of sleeping, dreaming
excruciating...

lead vs. led.

A pause for want
is chaste for naught
anything worth
salvaging.

I realize
the day, begone,
begets
the dawn.

Be

'Cause,
not lost,

damns the forgotten,
expects the fraught and

understands
none.the.less...

Predestination is
naivety.

In practice,
brevity has
earned and discerned absurdity,
deserving of the unknown.

and untold stories,
unfolding again,
absolutely concerning
the uncertainty of

mea culpa.

It's importan..ce
is inane

tonight.

Colloquy

Everything that's new is new,
again.

Contentment eshewes the pre

tend to necessity,
let it be
frugally
forgotten but remembered,
distempered,
disillusioned

egalitarian dreams are proof that
life is and is not
what it seems
to see

meant to do this,
spent for purpose,
allegorically terse,
ambivalently perverse
until after

wards' incumbents
use words triumphant and
circumvent the
pretend

schön.

Compren...
Days are long while
years are short.

Contort your face
when news portends
ascending, deflecting,
reflection of rejection
presupposed subjective

realization of tomorrow's
elicit
illicit questions of today
such as, 'when will it pay?'

Off topic,
"[t]he earth moved," okay?

Displaying story

telling how beneficial
coming full circle
reminds us of beauti

full transgression,
righteous, still
until objections
surmount
the status

quid pro quo.

Like a contract.

You should know
how dangerous that word is;

How scary the world could be
if stationary
is a product to write upon
and the place from which we spawned
our discontent.

Optomism is the prism that
rainbows regress to
when science requests
too much of us.

Strange is the answer
disgusting
discussions
distrust.

The fallacy of now
is that later predisposes

and the past is that
thing that you just cant.

Coda

I hate missing you
but love that I get to(o).

Miss you...

Today is
tomorrow's
yesterday.

Same!

Different in
a way,

obliged to the past,

indifferent: Exact,

afraid though
intact,

exceptionally

abstract.

Without pain,

abstain, refrain,

retrain,

disregard fallacy and
eventually

explain

what cannot (full stop).

Begin again.

Absconded [Dedicated to AJP]

Like the ears to the eyes,
I've lost myself
for the ease of demise

and...

These are the soundtrack to my sleep.

I've never understood,
I always intro-speak.

And where I'm abandoned
I miss myself.

But give you me
in this moment,
however tenderly,
has in this memory
remembered.

A worthless cause to be forgotten,
the second, for which we are begotten.

Then the words don't come like they once used to,
phobic of the filter for what I've been through
though as I'm, perhaps, wont to do.
Forget aphasia. I'm just a fool.

Unable to forget;
If this is it
I choose to quit!

Remedy the challenge that is to be,
sadden the role of atrophy,
fear explanation of supposedly...
adjectives which diefy the apathy
of me.

Strange not feeling motivation again,
its [purposely] differen...ce,
enticingly insignificant,
peacefully belligerent;
Afraid of pacification.

When I was young,
my Dad explained to me
how tomorrow never comes.

Now I'm older and tomorrow
is all that I want.

It still makes sense to me now,

to always teach the why behind the how,
to never hide behind the hallowed ground.

Don't expect the words to come
'cause, fuck, they're always there.

Don't accept that their from
is the shake after the stare.

Don't incept,
do secure,
don't attempt
but do infer.

We recktify.
Choose against odds so specified
a pry to ply.

Derelict in conviction
and absent in inhibition.

My mind is made, in that I abstain
from fear that when convenient
forgets tomorrow for today's implicit
call for now

to begin.

Known to the righteous:

Original sin.

Entendre des Happenstance

Longing no longer
for a dream undreamtof.
The rare subsistence of a reality proven forgone
and satisfaction toward luck's inherent fabrication.


To proceed down that lovely becauseway
where serendipity predisposes;
susceptible, as we are, to fallacy
in the state of having been so contrite


Rescinding the apologies for our antecedence
in appreciation of the consequence of now.
A happy epiphany from apparent revelation
that, therein lies optimism, and


when the moment proves to
consummate that i am, contracted, before perfect,
ignorance of its existence
dutifully gifts that dear friend bliss.