There are times when you surprise yourself with your own capacity to feel affection for others. Even for those whom have hurt you in ways that you felt that you had become irreversibly damaged by. And, so, you keep to yourself a small prayer that you may always feel, at least in part, this easy love.

Zubi zubi zoo?

I’m in a weird place right now. It’s strange, I think I may be in the position where I could mess with someone else’s head.

I’m still too emotional and self destructive to allow myself to consider a serious relationship again (and frankly, I’m also way too fucking young to be worried about any kind of forever shit anyway). But I’m also a little bit lonely, and maybe just selfish enough to pretend to believe a vulnerable guy when says he won’t get hurt.

the click of miracle

at the quarterhorse meet
at Hollywood Park

around 5 p.m.

if you are sitting at
ground level

in the

the track appears

above you


in the strange

the silks

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Too Sweet

I have been going to the track for so
long that
all the employees know
and now with winter here
it’s dark before the last
as I walk to the parking lot
the valet recognizes my
slouching gait
and before I reach him
my car is waiting for me,
lights on, engine warm.
the other patrons
(still waiting)
“who the hell is that

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John Ruskin Considers the Nature of Water, Circa 1842

 A found poem from Ruskin’s Modern Painters

Now the fact is
that there is hardly
a roadside pond or pool
which has not as much
landscape in it as above it.
It is not the dull,
muddy, brown thing
we suppose it to be;
it has a heart like ourselves,
and in the bottom of that
there are the boughs
of the tall trees, and the
blades of the shaking grass,
and all manner of hues,
of variable, pleasant light
out of the sky; nay,
the ugly gutter that stagnates
over the drain bars,
in the heart of the foul city,
is not altogether base;
down in that, if you will look
deep enough, you may see
the dark, serious blue
of far-off sky, and the passing
of pure clouds.

Terms of Endearment

Sweet biscuit of my life,
I’ve been thinking of your smile
and how I’d steal a little bite
of it if you were here; of the delights

I’ve known in the alleyway between
the whitewashed storefronts of your teeth;
of how I’ve pressed one smithereen
after another of mille-feuille, mousseline

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Artist: PRINCE 0 plays

Prince - Little Red Corvette

Holy Ghost

The congregation sang off key.
The priest was rambling.
The paint was peeling in the Sacristy.

A wayward pigeon, trapped in the church,
flew wildly around for a while and then
flew toward a stained glass window,

but it didn’t look like reality.

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