crisp like apples like childhood

 i still like apples when they are crisp and cool and fresh, i like biting into them and the taste, it seems unlike life, which is a drag across the cold and hard face of a clock… when i catch an heirloom kinda apple in the palm of my hand it always fits, perfect like a baseball but better cause it’s unprocessed, more like childhood when the skin needs no astringent and all the body is firm and thoughts are clear and waking up is fresh and new and motivation is natural and intention pure    – K



Orion and I was tryin to love you but it was hard. We cannot always be sure of ourselves in every way, and when I broke out (in anger) the words hurling and curling their way lugubrious in the chill of autumn air,  and you there; I seemed unable to stop myself so righteous and defiant for a five minute drive home from dinner.  God it was the worst of me. Of course I took to rest by the sounds of postseason baseball curious to the darker mood. I wanted the electricity back. But we all sometimes short circuit. I woke with an apology on my lips and typed it into a text. You were calling, calling me, but in these early hours of the morning on my free days the only one i talk to is in my slippers out on the back porch with the long hooded sweater woven black and white around me staring up to the heavens missing the moon, I mean Orion.

easter contraindicate

in our time of dying
a squeeze play. life.
evoking in the mind
some space

i’m gone

there’s always something
held down. to rise up
when the powerful
recede and fall

giants. the dust all blocks the sun.
you would think the human race
was cooked. done

demonic. corporate. selfie
goddamn! it’s made us all

your bottom line
at my expense.
tax dollars. audits on our common

i’m feeling slighted.
perpetually tense
terrified. in the woods.

gimme some ativan
no. the half life ain’t no good
3 months of klonopins,

wait. wait!
stop the madness.
fill the heart with easter gladness
hallmark cards and sugar peeps
high fructose powered
liberty jeeps

give me death. no
try again
count to ten

count backward now to five.
multiply by noisy beehive
high division fructose
pure honey

look east
go there
the sun rises also
john returns to yoko
the manson family
now disbanded

atlas shrugs off
Ayn Randed

atom bomb
gets bonded back from the
linear accelerator

nagasaki to some pax

plays out inside a sand dune

a sheep herder finds the body
ghost and holy spirit
burning trees
learns to fear it

4.20 gatherings in denver.
smoking Easter
to its knees