Friday, December 30, 2011

Being Nocturnal, Unemployed, and Human in the Desert, in the summer…

Days and Nights bleed into one

And I see things as they really are.

Gas Stations, Supermarkets, Fast Food,

Our dark highway beacons-

Where dilated pupils roam.

Neon lights up the night:

“Quick, Run and Hide!

The Sun’s about to Rise!”

When it’s 100 degrees and counting outside.

The world’s burning up

And I’m burning out:

Out of money

Out of options

Out of patience

Out of time…

The Cycles of my bodily functions hold time together:

Eat. Drink.

Piss and Shit it out.

Menstruate Masturbate Sleep.

“Hooray! I found something to fill out my day!”

The Cycles of the moon and star showers plant my feet on the ground,

Holding time and space together.

Those Star Showers!

They ooze across the sky like a fucking flare gun

A chunk of Molten Rock burns brightly

Off screaming boldly into Hell

Into nowhere space


A magnificent death.

All so that I,

The gaping naked ape, loitering beside the parked car,

Could look up into the night abyss and say:

“Hey- I just saw a shooting star.”

Somewhere between love and loss.

Everything was beautiful until it wasn’t.

You said you loved me

I said it too-

My love, my love-

How can we,

Two lovers be,

So fucking stupid?

Two human souls

Two enlightened Dodos

Who just can’t

Get their shit together.

Making things just

Hard enough to bear:

Stretching out

The breaking point-

We should be Blacksmiths.

Now the metal has cooled

Heart stopping blood-flow

to the genitals.

Eyes left to wanderlust

Thoughts drift onto angry storms.

My dear one,

Can’t you see?

It’s so much easier for me-

to rage than to love.

The demon you feed

Is the demon that conquers.

But when hope is

starving to death,

She eats her young.

Did we ever really have a chance?

Thursday, December 22, 2011


Alone, my heart flutters
my face falls, the buildings are too tall
they block out my sun, they take away my fun
forgetful decisions and confusing options
depressing individuals
if you can even...

The wind blows cool air in my face
this food leaves me with bad taste
the dirt is swept into my eyes
my friends are giving me high fives
I have to do it alone, though
I take a deep breath of cool air
sweet smog, sweet smog

He's asleep
like a log, like a log
I get taken advantage of
I've made damage too

I yell these words at the top of my lungs
I take out my compass and search for the sun
I quiet my step and deepen my breath
I cancel and delete
I fall on my feet
I stand on a street
devoid of any ground

Monday, December 19, 2011

I wasn’t anticipating your presence
To have any level of permanence
Proper guess,
walkin away leaving not a remnant, no trace, headed out to a new place or face, whatever the case

I never did believe in those fake fairytales
Hindsight revealing just a series of epic fails

The heart reaches for that something you’d like to keep
Your brain goes into action, never missing a beat
Slides tentacles of doubt around your flustered heart
But you knew it anyway, screwed from the start

but you talk and you confide
and it’s all a waste of time
the futile connection you perpetuate
cause you’re alone and you just can’t wait

Wake up! Recognize that that’ll never pan out
Step down, pull your head outta the clouds

Your head left a void in the clouds and the sun comes out
  • oh man, you thought you had it all figured out

Sunday, December 18, 2011

"Police Arrest" by Rodney Knight

This is a story written by my father. He was homeless at the time. He is no longer living and I try to spread his story as often as I can. There is no true justice.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

l'aime de sucre

you buy candy bars. you like the look and feel of the wrapper, you like how
it sounds as you tear it open. you like the smell of the chocolate. you enjoy it
slightly melted, you dont wanna have to do too much of the chewing. you like to
lick the bar, tease yourself with a taste of but the outer layer, relishing its carmel/
nugget/cookie insides, choose your poison. but you dont finish the bar. you never
finish it. sometimes not even half of it. maybe youre afraid of the 20-something
pudge we are all capable of experiencing. maybe youre diabetic. maybe the
dentist has successfully threatened you. i don-fuckin know.
it follows though, with my millionth drawn out metaphor, that not only am i a
diabetic, i could give a shit less what my dentist has to say. im payin his bills. if
anything id expect he should be lying to me, get a few more visits, a few more
co-payments outta my pocket. but my sweet tooth is never satiated, so im
constantly aware of all the newest snacks out there, no matter what happens to
my teeth.
everyones got their own problems. no denyin that. and no one problem is
necessarily more or less demanding or challenging than another. it just seems
like the world is so focused on keepin in shape. my concern is keepin full.

Road Sketch

26 hours on this shithole. screaming grandkids with sticky chocolate fingers. old people whose lax cheek muscles sag at everything. they carry this distinct smell of oatmeal and firming lotion. too little, too late.

trains are no better than planes. recirculated air, shitty legroom; four more hours til the next rest stop. make it count. fuck, you needed this smoke. nicotine cures all ailments: the sound of ripped cellophane, the cushion of the filter between your fingers; you breathe in deeply and close your eyes as you exhale. everything slows down; everything comes into focus. in the back of your eyes, the senior citizens mistakenly feed the children their dietary food packs and die violently of sugar overdoses from the kids’ snacks. you smile a little, your face turned upwards towards an unpredictable gathering of stratus clouds. almost makes you forget the crappy land and dirty trailer park surroundings. as soon as you leave chicago, that’s all you see.

shanties dot the land in the window. they race past your eyes, sheet metal stains that move like big black flies on the glass. abandoned train yards with scattered gravel and locomotive gears age brown and orange. lifeless graveyards tell stories of a once prosperous town buckled by railroads that no longer help deliver eager visitors. you imagine sad faces peering from the one room houses, envious of your speed, the same speed for which you are thankful.

the children in the seats in front of you finger and question every button, every shiny switch. they whine. my overhead light’s not as bright as bobby’s, sarah’s seat reclines so much farther back than mine. lunchables replace their endless jabber with slurping and crunching. crumbs falls in small laps, abruptly brushed to the carpeted floor by large feminine hands.

you’re going to Colorado to unload your head. your friends get worried when they hear you have problems sleeping. they promised you mountains, unfamiliar faces and the best beer in the country. those last two sounded especially good so you ran. you can’t work every holiday. you’re tired and the prospect of Boulder was cheap and attractive, a hooker on the corner of the Yellow Brick Road.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Why and what

This valley is teeming with talented Coachella Valley residents who write on a daily basis, but who rarely publicly publish their work.This blog is for those of us who are interested in what our friends and our neighbors are saying and thinking. Essays, poems, short stories, a song, whatever floats your boat. Anyone can submit anything they'd like, anyone can ask to be an author. You can send in your work anonymously if you'd like. Respect is always important, just throwing that out there. We can help one another through critique, discussion, and positivity.