aztec moon

i trace the phases of your aztec moon from my shores
your gravity tugs at my tides, pulling them in every night
and i wonder where your civilization has gone
if youre just the leftover ruins of a memory i must excavate
with a telescope from down here where you left me



These leaves have tilted downward
Wilted and curled like an old man’s hand
They pitch back and forth with the wind, they heave
And release, they feather at nature’s whim.

There is no water left in their furled veins
Dry as a bleached bone, these catch on my windshield and cling
They release and flutter away to clog gutters
And drainpipes and rot along the highway shoulder.

These leaves have stuck to my wheel wells, I carry them with me
Until I get to where I’m going and I clean them out.


they say i have a week to live—the cancer is in
the bone marrow, in the brain—but it’s just another
deadline. they tell me to write my will (“who will inherit
all you worked for?”) i tell them
i’ll never die my American immortal soul
will live on while my wormy earthly body’s
bare nutritional value is cashed in.
even after the earth is swallowed by the sun
the galaxy is sucked into a black hole
the universe collapses under the weight of its own entropy
i will live on in some dimension in between time and
matter where nothing can touch me, not even lenin, not even god,
and i will be happy.

Existentialism in Smalltown, U.S.A

The wind blows through Smalltown, U.S.A and Soulless imagines it ocean air coming in off the Atlantic surf miles away past the mountains, the highways, the city skyscrapers right to her here at the intersection of Market and Main. She angles her head into the breeze and tries to smell the salt. Smalltown, USA has one traffic light. It turns and Soulless walks across the intersection. She smells only crushed autumn leaves and exhaust.

fake news 451

you’re my oculus
whoring vicarious lives
because you know i’ll buy
and buy until i’m absorbed
and finally entertained

i’m safe here
in our hivemind
from doubt
and counterarguments
i could get used to this

and now some faint memory
of who I was before
i was you burns up
and i spread my legs