Monday, June 16, 2014

The Cloven World

Slash rewritten history to ribbons,
look with open eyes at
the cloven world
of well-wrought words,
and die, die with all your spirit spilling over your palms;
the mustard seed tumbles,
seeking fertility
in dust.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014


This is a shitty poem I wrote today,
all littered with cliché
and intentional rhyming
and timing
of words,
its absurd.