my place

its the foot of a mountain in a tropical location like hawaii. lots of shade and fruit.
time rolls on with a merciless power. it is a cascade an unrelenting force it is god it is god it is cruel it is joy it walks on the moon and it tunnels through the bowels of all that live.
life that terminal issue encased in time. alone home this is my place a chemical reaction an envelope signed sealed delivered to god to time.
godamit.

i think i’m nuts

  i dream of going back to the fog
  where vague shapes stumble
  mumble jumbled rumblings
  and time is chopped
  but you know
  i’ll stay another day
  i have an avocado tree and i planted it and its loaded

irvine

  i piss at work behind the trailers in the weeds. they are stubbles of weeds now, having been mowed or shredded. i piss in the stubble away from cameras hopefully. my boss is a female. i can hear her now
     “you call that a dick?”
  anyway there is a culture a primitive land out there. i’ve had a long standing admiration for crows for quite some time. then there was this:
   i saw a crow. two sparrows were pestering the crow. i looked closer and saw that the crow had a baby sparrow clutched in one (talon?).
  the crow hopped around and the sparrows left. the baby sparrow in the talon fluttered its wings. the crow pecked it hard in the head (maybe the eyeballs) twice and it fluttered more.
|  i internalized the horror of the sparrow for a moment. i do that. i dont know if its a curse or a gift. maybe sparrows dont have horror.
  the next day i was pissing behind a trailer, and a white butterfly with black dots frolicked briefly…briefly before a sparrow swooped in and rendered the white butterfly. rendered it. there was just butterfly dust left wafting into the stubble. i did not internalize any horror.
  today i pissed and watched a spider moving to and fro in the web in the stubble.

thc

 not sure where i’m going with this.
ok. i’m gonna be who i am for the rest of my life.
i’ve gradually come to ohio. the middle earth spot where
the bedrooms smell like childrens dirty hair.
and i will now be this thing. or people or palace of the strict order.
only there will be no strict. stirick. strict is brittle like stick.
it will be cool pools of dense ;iquid. at the foot of the mountain at an altitide where ferns grow or a longitude where ferns grow amidst albino slugs in the shade.
a hummingbird hovers staring at my nipples. i’m afraid. they are fast little buzzards and could peck me good..right through my red tank top.
  i am accepting the changes, waiting at the border check in el paso.
  i might have seen a jackrabbit stampede. i might have imagined it, it doesnt matter anymore. what matters is accepting the ch ch changes
       with all the grace
 all the grace.