we are december

December 6, 2017

via we are december


hush and hum

November 28, 2017


the poem is a


you write all alone

in your closet.

it fights


it demands

a blessing

from the


inside time’s

attenuated tip,

you wrestle

with the

wooden chest

of your heart:

all the


the hush

and hum,

the red


the perfect


deeper still,

you move

through the

electric blue

darkness, the

great lost-ness,

a tiny sign of life

hunting another.

you see the

silver sparks;

they brush up

against you—

but you cannot

feel them.

you are here

but not here.

you remember

your father saying

every thing is

going to be okay

with his ragged

breath and big

chemo eyes.

even then,

on the edge

of death,

he was full of

hills and hopes.

now, the

big banyan

and creeks and

deer and wolves

tell you: it is time

to move into your

own life. it is time

to stop inhabiting


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real heroes

October 29, 2017


a guy named barry at cvs keeps

calling me love, looks at my id and says,


don’t worry; you still look good.

i know he’s messing with me, but i

just want to get my wine and toilet

paper and go home. it’s the same

guy that tried messing with my girl

last week. i feel like i should make a

scene, but i don’t. i think the words

me too as i angrily shift away.

religion claims to save you from

the abyss, but religion is the abyss.

thank the gods for the creatives;

oh how we need the creatives.

we came out of the beautiful black

water—wet and fresh and squeaking:

a bull’s eye in the midst of the

mess. babies don’t have to care.

years later, i’m wearing my suit of

wet clay; i’m swinging my rudder

to wide extremes across a wide sea.

at the…

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One Hundred and Sixty-Seven.

October 10, 2017

we are always building

September 24, 2017

Source: we are always building

NCAA Week Two

September 9, 2017

Source: NCAA Week Two

summer of the painting

July 27, 2017

Source: summer of the painting


May 28, 2017


look behind you:

the orchard-lined hall-

way; all the things that have

grown up and pushed out fruit

in your wake; the worn door frames

and door knobs, the sleeked floors slipping

under committed feet, the living point of contact

keeping you both here, resolved—all in, so to speak.

not since those first nine months

have you ever been so

in love with a


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some nights the moon is a train

March 25, 2017

Source: some nights the moon is a train

dust has nothing to fear

February 10, 2017


i’m on a long journey, and

i don’t know the way.

the dust under my feet

has nothing to fear;

it’s been here before,

but it has a lot to say—

to the fingers, to the

rib-cage, to this feast, to

the miles walked across

this beach: once you are

thus reduced, you can only

transform into some thing

new—a diamond, a sand-

storm, a brilliant planet.

take every thing that is

happening, every thing you

feel, every thing you keep

silent, every thing you shout—

and kneel: turn it,

churn it into art.

it is the only way in,

and the only way out.

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