We are the names we speak, My Friend.

We are the tapping of tongues against teeth

We're manifestations of dreams that we dream

In the quiet the dark and the deep

We are the words of our whispered wishes

Long years I stared deep in the empty cave

Where once had nested thoughts of wants and dreams

I tried to pin their shadows to the page

I gathered up their feathers for my ink

Tied twixt tired fates, all trouble

Their fatuous flags rooted in rubble

Not a one sure or substantial

Whipping in the wind

First a face and then all edges

Standing face to face with waves

The depth of the whole ocean

Time alloted me for only one brief moment of reflection but

I was left standing,

over and over…

Called to change as oft as called to constancy, how simply

this dichotomy undoes our plans, contingencies spun hardly

half so deep as they would have to be to grant predictability,

and thus, as has been said, our only constant can be change,

A moped; blue

Bright blue

I liked it

Me? I had my hands full

Groceries

A cigarette

"If anything, …"

No, Nothing….

No trilling resonance

No internal epiphanies

Nothing here so complex

Happy 30th birthday, Spaz.

Everything's still really bad.

I'm so tired, I'm so broke,

Moving upward is a joke

Last year we completely cracked

I met another "us" today

Another fractured plural

Who told me my God was a God

And sense and time Unreal

We were so wrong;

When all this died

You moved on and

I'm walking still

Come see the cosmos most unattuned adept!

The bastard of spiritual law!

Set your sights on that singular scorn of the temples

Pariah of blessings and awe!