sweet tribal.




recession depression

has finally set in.

im trying not to pull a Columbine.
and go out blazing.

all this tension mounting.
only leads to more frustration.

how long can this last.

please promise me.

this too shall pass.


im a bad mother.


and i know it.

ive been distant.
not just to this.
but to other aspects of my life.

my job.
my friends.
my boy.

i apologize.
in advance.
for i do not see a chance.
in this.
in me.
why yes.

i do.

do you remember all that searching.
that expedition.
that dig.

do you remember.
finding parts of me.
that before.
you thought were dead.

oh .
to the contrary.
those parts.

they are alive.
they are living.
and growing.
they are thriving.
spreading miles.
and miles.
and miles.
beyond horizons.
and the sea.

they are.

its contagious.
its passed right from.
faced to face.

all these people breathing life into.
what once.
was vacant space.

it now has taste.
and style.
a tune.

its now part of the mainstream.
and consumed.

shit it out.
all of it.
and do what it.
what you will.

this message.
it is bottled.
safely packaged.
not built to spill.


sixth sense.

this weather.
it makes me want to fuck.
and clean.
i feel like i should constantly.
be changing clothes.
or sipping out a straw.

this weather makes me want to flee.
ditch this 9 to 5.
and get my feet dirty.

this weather makes me want to open.
the windows.
the doors.
a good book.
my legs.
a glass of wine.

this weather is a tease.
shes showing a lil skin now.
all eyeballs and elbows.
but next thing you know.
she'll be wrapped up again.
head to toe.

this climate is clever.

its making me test myself.
how long can i sit at the desk.
how many times can i take out the mail.
walk to the bank.
stretch my legs.

days like today.
make me fidgety in my skin.
and impulsive.
my blood warming with the globe.

this weather.
is unfair.

mother nature.
a fickle bitch.

i bet tomorrow it'll snow.

Rocket Summer...

" One minute it was Ohio winter,
with doors closed,
windows locked,
the panes blind with frost,
icicles fringing every roof,
children skiing on slopes,
housewives lumbering like great black bears
in their furs along the icy streets.

And then a long wave of warmth crossed the small town.
A flooding sea of hot air; it seemed as if someone had left a bakery door open.
The heat pulsed among the cottages and bushes and children.

The icicles dropped, shattering, to melt.
The doors flew open.
The windows flew up.
The children worked off their wool clothes.
The housewives shed their bear disguises.
The snow dissolved and showed last summer's ancient green lawns.

Rocket summer.

The words passed among the people in the open, airing houses.

Rocket summer.

The warm desert air changing the frost patterns on the windows, erasing the art work.
The skis and sleds suddenly useless.
The snow, falling from the cold sky upon the town,
turned to a hot rain before it touched the ground.

Rocket summer.

People leaned from their dripping porches and watched the reddening sky.

The rocket lay on the launching field, blowing out pink clouds of fire and oven heat.
The rocket stood in the cold winter morning,
making summer with every breath of its mighty exhausts.

The rocket made climates,
and summer lay for a brief moment upon the land...."

-- Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles.


I used to think about immature things... like do you love me, do you want me, are you gonna call me? is this really your phone number?

those were the days.
when it was that simple.
just as plain.
as basic questions.
elementary rules.

check yes.
circle no.
meet me at the swings.

now that im over the handle bars.
i find myself constantly searching.
for that intrigue.

i am afraid of aging.
i am bored.
with my youth.

i want so badly to think of myself.
as younger.
but i am slowly realizing.
that i am dated.
cool but not in.
soon to be an antique.

one day.
kids will pull me.
from their grandmothers attic.
they will rummage me.
from the Goodwill.
haggle me.
at swap meets.
ill be auctioned off to sell.

'86 was a good year.

but as for now.
as for today.
i must come to terms.
with what at bay.

the calender.
the clock.

and what not.

so now.
this is me.
i am an adult.
doin grown folk things.
making grown folks decisions.
whatever the hell that means.

i have a saving account.
rent paid on time.
bachelors degree in the making.
full time job.
when i have the time.
less we forget.


so as it appears.
i am far from the playground.
it seems.
these four corners.
have a lease.

this merry go round.
runs on a meter.

this game of tug of war.
has no release.

where exactly are we.
when we.

what else.
do we have left.

how are we supposed to create.
a memory.
when we feel like.
we have no more space left?

when do we start.
making them disappear.
blocking them out.
deleting them.
as we go?

how long before.
we shove me.
in the closet.

pass me on.
to those we know?

how do i know.
when im part of the china cabinet.
and heirloom.
the decor.

to be honest.

who i am.
held together.
by a whip stitch.

hand sewin.
with detail.
moth balled.
slept with.
slowly splitting.
at the seams.

oh so.
intricate design.
but shitty work.
behind the scenes.

you get.
what you pay for.
and in these days.
that's not much.

so ill hold off.
on that appraisal.
in hopes with time.
my market.
opens up.

cause one day.
ill be a relic.

this black diamond.
in the rough.


will be the best day of my life.



I got a job at the Denver Public Library....

this is my friend.
Brian Doyle.
we call him Doyle, or Bob Dole.
either way.
he plays guitar, he takes photos,
and about a year ago he moved to Colorado.
to day he sends this message.

" I got a job at the Denver Public Library,

So this guy comes
in to research suicide.
He asks me where
some books on suicide were.....

I said there
aren't any....

They never
bring them back.

than that
I'm havin
g a hard time hibernating due to all this beautiful weather.

Love, Doyle. "

yeah. pretty much.
friends rule.

bombs over richmond, in pictures.

this was amazing.
thank you everyone who came out to support.
see you next time.




this weather is insane.
45 days till spring.
and i can feel it sprouting underneath me.
yesterday i wore no coat.
short skirt.
arms out.
today glove and a scarf.
there was snow.

we are all going to die.

im tumbling from one thing to another now.
going from this to that.
putting emphasis on certain words.
collecting phrases.
like news paper clippings.
collaging my life.

im drawing myself out.

ive been a glutton for planning.
over eating the future.
shoving so many ideas down my throat.
i am full to the brim with expectations.
im sure ill start stuttering soon.
mind going faster than mouth.

im going to do things.
im going to take iniative.
im going to change the world.

ive got this itch.
this what if.
has been making me sick.
im nauseous at the thought.
what am i to do.
i wait.
i sit still.
i watch this.
i feel so bad inside.
it hurts me.
it burns my soul.
i am steadfast.
and loyal.

i am young and fickle.
i am poorly put together.
and unreliable as fuck.
i am bound to break.
im just waiting.
and im so scared.
absolutely frightened.
for this.

my life is fucking insane.
it is never the same.
i make bad decisions.
i leap before i think.
and i drink until i jump.

i am going to ruin something great one day.
im going to drag this.
through the mud.
im going to get on my hands and knees.
im going to beat this horse to death.
im just waiting for the right time.
ive got to get out of this.
ive got to shed my skin.
i have no idea who i am.
or where ill be.

but im heading directly in that direction.

moving forward.
because thats the way.
things are going.