into obscurity

why i'll never be
a writer of poetry
or prose is easy

when it comes time to
save the thoughts in my head i
click "delete" instead.


untitled (3)

i will never see the light
in this condition.


untitled (2)

You and your blue eyes,
hiding away all your lies;
now I know better.


untitled (1)

summer is over
so now the days just drag on,
on and on and on...


thousand year old distress signal

he was twenty year
old boy, who lived with girl in
small Mars colony.

she completed him,
once. Lost, High, alone, broadcast
from Mars Shuttle Five

Lighting cigarettes
as the last hover sailboat
made port and anchored.

sense of adventure
defeats standard high jinks of
counting revolutions.

what takes overboard?
watching the Suns rise and set
create and destroy.

passion sustains them
mid rage and then comity.
she sees right through him.

or, more precisely
the view from the Solitude
of her escape ship.

grasp this concept now:
wife gone, no why or how. he'd
go if she'd allow.

struggle to see what's
simple to me, don't you know?
"i can't let you go."

d u a l i t y killed
the man. "forget about her."
no one understands.

hints where she went?
declared, "See You Space Cowboy...
Spike for President."


before the rain comes

i tend to lie when
i say i'm okay, so you
should know cloudy days

are the worst, not because
of the grey, but because they
used to be yours, love.


i'm sure of it

people lie 'cause no
one could ever love them for
who they truly are


dripping juice

broken fruit for you
waiter in the summer sky
eat, drink, be merry


i tried to count to
pi, but before i was done
the world had ended


they expect me to
save lives, but i can't even
take care of myself

I Heard There Was A Secret Chord

a wise man once said
"all songs are sad songs, if you
know how to listen"


i feel as if i'm
drowning, yet dying of thirst
at the same time, and

i'm claustrophobic
in my own skin, and if i
could just escape

for a minute or
two, maybe everything
would feel good again.


suspend your disbelief for a moment

you can doubt it, but
i'm not seeking physical
intimacy-- not

really. i just want
to be anchored to someone
outside of myself.

butterflies, revisited

i decided that
you weren't worth my time, until
i saw you again.



the soft words are now
unfurling below my breasts
and i'll sing them out


each conversation
with you is equal parts hot
pain and cool pleasure.


i saw you lurking
in my tree, i said come back
you are not that far

gone, but sullen bird,
you're blinking a pale eye and
holding the branch close


in the future we
will worry less about what
we can't know, can't change.

we'll just fly away
in hover cars and play, loud
on hover guitars.



"my whole life has been
a lie" is the first truth that
i have ever told


i refuse to shorten your name

i try to be less
awkward, but you inspire a
loss of self-control


You don't scare me

I dreamed of your lips
just now. I wonder will they
touch mine this weekend



i woke up today
and realized that i've been dead
for twenty-two years


fast food

relationships are
like cigarettes: great at first
and gross at the end.


When nature calls

I wake up early
Ready to smell the cool breeze;
Just when nature calls


Oh! The beauty in
Laundry, pacing, and Craftster.
...Need to write paper.


college holds some truth...

so far, i've dropped two
classes, knowing fully that
i'm still going to

graduate this place,
dean's list and all--the list that
helps decide your fate.



i remember when
all i had to know was how
to tie my own shoes

now i have to know
how one would tie a shoe with
their muscles and bones



Middle of the night,
On a borrowed laptop:
Wish I were inspired

excuse me

“Time passes quickly.”
Excuse me, what was that said?
I’m busy, or so it seems…


(no subject)

Twenty minutes now
Four trains pass the other way
Damn, I hate the T



"the monkey ate the
leopard"-- grammatically
sound, but far from true.


the cold water on
my face makes me feel alive,


every time i take
a drag of a cigarette
i wish it was the


a (potentially fictitious) delineation of self

i think i might have
cried tonight, but it's been so
long that i forget

what it is like to
feel. like, actually feel.
i fucked (most of) it

up and i regret
it every single day but
there's nothing i can

do now, because soon
she'll be gone and may or may
not forget about

me. i hope it's the 
latter of the two, so some
day i can see her

again. she said there's
something about me that she 
can't get over or

let go.


realization at 4:54am

it's crazy when you
realize which of your friends
are your real friends and

from that list, begin
to anticipate which of
your real friends are here

to stay. tonight i
discovered that someone i
thought wasn't a real

friend actually
turned out to be someone that
i confide in. and 

trust. sometimes we judge
people entirely wrong, but
in the end, it's the

people who stick by
your side, no matter what, that
truly, honestly



ciertas cosas oscuras / certain shadowed things

you reside inside
me, amid whirling currents--
a deep placid lake



the people that come

into my work and ask for
"which coffee tastes

like cappuccino?"
should be kept on a tight leash,
or killed. brutally. 


you possess the words,

and fingers to count with. write
haiku and submit.

lame shit

i like my friends to

balance: some snarky cynics,
some who love the world.

"i don't want shoes that are played out, so..."


boys are blessed by what we call

do not grow a full beard

it reminds me of

kissing my father good-bye:
lips prickled by a

whiskered cheek, or on
best days, the razor buzzing
before morning bath.


party favors

I thought I did well
Light, but maybe romantic.
You left with another


i haven't seen the
sunlight in weeks and the sad
thing is i don't care

amongst the vaguness that is

i think those of us who are involved in the five/seven/five project are at least semi-pleased with the outcome thus far; however, it's not enough.
if you come across this website (by whatever means), don't be intimidated.
there's very some good poetry on this page and also some not-so-good poetry.
it doesn't matter.
what truly matters is that everyone writes.
if you attened kent state university, keep your eye out for flyers because they'll be out soon.
get the word out & submit.



a circle ends where it began

a muddled mother--
baby-weighted, resentful--
attempts to escape;

in sun-lit focus
the fog rises above the
sidewalk. connected,

no doubt, to all things
she wanders-- accepting her
smallness in the vast

greatness, content to
be a body, to be feet
firmly trampling grass.

about love, in a roundabout way

it wasn't broken,
literally, only bruised.
either way, she lost.


sunday smile

i feel that someone
wants to tell me something but
they are too nervous.

basic truths

you and i have the
worst timing out of all the
people i have met.


i criticize the
things closest to me in case
they should not be there.



under new names we
will act as though we will not
care if it happens


freedom to choose

it could be argued

that the most important things
in life are free but

that's a lie, because
actually, there's only 
one thing and it's you. 


dead trees unite!

spiral bound wonder
receptor for my lame thoughts
forty sheets of fun


forced exit

i was born sometime
yesterday, they cut the cord
ouch that really hurt



Ev'ry mark is a track
Listen to Grandfather now
And become Aware.



i think i can count
to about one hundred but
i think i'll need help

[ ]

i fell in a hole
came out the other side and
again saw nothing



i don't love my life
so much as to shrink from death;
whole milk is holy.

o death, i will be
your plagues, man-killed child-- the ghost
who looks in. yes, death,

where is your sting? i
fear silent gaps where kraken
wait to devour me.


shrug it off like flies
from a corpse and pack up-- your
mountain can come too.


an iron dress-- white,
which is supposed to mean pure
and whole, but really

means easier to
dirty, one more thing to clean--
bodiless and cold.


a thousand and one

i just saw we hit
one thousand visits and i'm
pretty pumped, for sure.



for a brief moment
i lost power in my house
and i was helpless


friday last

we started at two
thirty and raced the sun back
to our flats, then crashed.



slipping to the end
back to where this all began;
why can't i move on?


dinner with my family

circling like birds of
prey, eager to peck out the
eyes of the weak, we

eat and talk at once.
everyone knows the price of
mistakes-- wary of

slips, we choose our words
with care, and each heartbeat pounds
like furious wings.



it's nice to ride my
bike in the park and not see
any trash or bums.

how stuff should work, part I

here, i can return
my bottles and get money
back. what a concept.

this is life

in germany, things
function like they should. i'm scared
of going back home.



ants crawl down my neck
with dagger legs piercing the
muscles that atrophy


ouch, my wrist!

took ink from your veins
I wrote and wrote endlessly
never plagiarize!


entre la sombra y el alma / between the shadow and the soul

under the guise of
a chaste love we each burned like
embers in a pit


gambling IS better odds

"My life's savings," he
said to the croupier. The
marble circled 'round

the track, falling in
the comfortable slot: sixteen.
Red. The man yelped

ecstatically, and
tossed money freely into
the air. He knew that

money won was worth
far more than money earned. "Red;


if fantasy were reality - part 2 - what really happened

My therapist I
kissed - on the hand... it was warm
and comforting. I

may be gutless, but
not too sorry - he had to
"be mad" but I don't

think he hated it
either. I stroked his cheek, told
him I love him. Oops.



generally, we
write these in response to what
happened yesterday.

i'm just saying

dude, matchmaking is
hungry business! but then, so
is really good sex.

it was like gambling, but with better odds

usually, she
is sarcastic, brassy—a
girl all mouth and legs

but in that vinyl
booth, full of chipotle and
nerves, she was bashful

and avoided his
eyes like he avoided hers
while justin typed crap.


Haiku Haiku

This line should be five.
This one needs to be seven;
this one's five, again.

poetry should give you a bloody nose

she claimed to bring the
excitement, crawling all over
the dirty carpet,

and everyone itched
to clutch her face and wax those
horrible eyebrows.


rolly turtle thing

levitating turtle--
plastic toy found by curly girl
or a conquering saint?

we almost missed you, beach
bum turtle. what were you doing
alone at maumee bay?

brace yourself, turtle,
land dweller-- we'll take you to a
good home. no more sand.


Frog on river bank.
Quiet and calm on mountain lake.
All is peaceful. Plop.

ode to a blue whale

salt encrusted plates
sift through the oceanic
untidiness. we

watch and listen as
you gobble and scoff about,

ing the immeasur-
ablity discovered
upon opening

your worldly corpse. found
inside: one tire, plenty of
krill, dirty linen,

fourteen blow up rafts,
eleven fully intact
ancient greek sculptures,

a schooner (no masts),
twenty ships in bottles, six
rusty propellers,

and four schoolchildren.
we began understanding
lives of whales: swim slow,

die old and never
eat the sail, because sometimes
they might not digest.


humans drink coffee
boiling black throughout each soul
with cream and sugar

beginning of a bad week

my dog passed away.
we found him in his own shit-
it wrecked our monday



A friend of mine said,
“Do you believe in a life
After we are dead?”

I laughed at the dearth
of his intelligence, like
A boy of seven.

“My friend,” I replied.
“When I’m gone, there won’t be earth,
Let alone heaven.”


of music songs

Up and all around
are melodies in the air--
we grab the good ones.



we were flamboyant--
awash with color, whirling,
soaring high in lust.


slightly more serious.

One more date, I said.
Two more kisses, three more nights.
You died around four.


happy birthday!

we succeeded, and
he fell on the street, head be-
tween his legs, puking.

block of writers

words try to escape
my brain, but i'm aphasic
and i cannot write

to E-- who is not smooth with lust

this boy on the bus
is a relic, reminding
me of better days.

the best birthday, thus far.

tonight at thursday's
we made jake not human. his
mom thanked us and laughed.

if fantasy were reality

When I seduce my
therapist, will he fire me
before I fire him?

Or should I fire him
first for seduction at my
hands: hot and guilt-free?


a sensible interpretation of life

distance and time are
relative, but money is

tonight, the light

the ashtray is full
as this night comes to a close.
we talked and laughed some.


the door leads to light
the window leads to darkness
my eyes shut to see.

the night, right now.

laying on the couch,
yearning for a cigarette,
he beckons for sleep.

sly and subtle

his cats slip across
the floor. the aging hardwood
hides their intentions.


perferated squares,
checkerboards above my head.
counting them, i wait.

telephone wire

your shape bathed in light,
lying for hours on end,
lying, you fooled me.


why i can't i seem to
see the shit you see behind
my dirty brown eyes?

tonight is a good night

bob lays on his couch
as we try to conjure some
haikus. we don't fail.


the light goes off when
i see the sweat on your face
as you scream for me

couches eat people

i take my shoes off
only to fall on my face
to feel what i need

arlo guthrie

rocks en route to face,
with intent to kill, getting
stoned long ago hurt.


incapable, my words don't
exit my brain right.


the butterflies float
out of the side of my head
like thoughts i forget


life is kind of like
death: you walk around and soon
know that shit happens.

Nietzsche said...

Akron Ohio
is an abyss. I look in-
to it, and it back.


the midwest feels like
a fiery hell as if
satan was mayor

tv casualty

the tv is off
so i feel i'm unaware
of my surroundings


i am too tired for this
poem, so i sleep

island vacation, dude

and other vacation spots
that i'll never see


and lancaster said
"something wrong!" and we didn't
believe him one bit.


the truth about college

the teacher we all
thought we'd love and admire taught
us nothing but lies.


it felt like excavation

we were strangers. as
he pounded, i shut my
eyes. boldly lying,

i claimed to be a
virgin. it was an excuse
for making a face.

dammit, morning

that sunlight beats through
ow! it burns past my eyelids
should have closed the blinds.



I missed the first half
of my grandad's funeral
because I'm lazy.



i got a message
that said kurt vonnegut died
so it fucking goes


on and off. many
peoples minds are like most lamps:
controlled by others

ode to good health

the only thing that
good health achieves: people
dying more slowly



I like my jacket.
It's blue and makes me feel like
a British gangster.

Ship It

He limp-calls preflop.
I bet, he raises. I jam.
His nines are no good.

for isaac:

you said "if the damned
gave us a road map, then we'd
know just where to go"


the d.a. levy
coaster on my desk is glad
to be remembered.

the truth about money

my old watch tells time
just as well as the newer
one she bought for me.



i was born on the
tiled kitchen floor of my
grandmother's old house



nervous butterflies
devouring my insides
and my body shakes

an inconvience

the ship was sinking
as waves crashed onto the deck
my socks were now wet



i blame my superiors,
so i'll sleep at night


black not blue

my hand is shaking
as the ink flows from the pen
nothing but black stains



vertebrates sink into sinks
think things will be good


when no one calls you,
you feel like you are alone;
you call to no one


with cuts on my legs

as we grow older,
developing our ways,
our hearts become stale



my window is propped
open with a beer bottle,
inviting the birds

to come in and chirp,
but not too loud because my
ears hurt from last night.


in the yard at midnight

next door, the rowdy
drunks shout through the fence that we
are the bad neighbors


a pair of fishnet
stockings, leather, and a man
who wants to be spanked


watching the rain
falling onto the pavement
it dies forever

it evaporates
into nothing, forgotten.
and so too, am i

Daily Disappointment

I thought I'd just stand.
And stay and stare forever-
Then rinsed out shampoo.


Japan, September 2004

Bluegreen patina
Buddha in Kamakura,
empty shell, like Zen.

King of Chess

A wise man once said,
"Life is bad for you, that’s why
you die at the end."

Sad & Beautiful Mystery

Agony, and joy–
every bit of it will fit
in the human heart.

Permanent Impermanence

Flesh, bone, planets, suns–
everything survives until
it no longer can.


Any snowflake can
snap limbs of a mighty oak–
but not by itself.


Technology? It
turns sand into glass and turns
people to shadows.

Wanton, Dizzying Litter of War

Bravest warriors
write ten thousand epic tales,
only one death poem.

Brutal Moon

Brutal moon,
drags tides across jagged shores,
splinters shells, sanddollars.


a day in the park

i bought a plane and
it broke right away so i
fixed it and we flew.

my feet are in a trash can right now

Bring home the bacon
Working destroys my body
Rejuvenate me



up high in a tree
birds stand at attention
while smog fills their lungs

A Perfect World

if a bomb went off
i would never have to work
or do the laundry

i could sleep all day
and pretend to be alive
just like i am now


What I did this Summer

staying in my room
imagining everything.
i need a woman


was it worth it kid?
look where you've gotten yourself:
no friends in this town

cleveland express

a bus crush: nothing
more than shared smiles and money
exchanged, hand to hand.

R>S>P>R>S>P etc.

Scissors cut paper.
Paper covers rock, fully.
War’s a silly game.

cookies & tartar sauce

in my room we think
about life and music and
we argue and laugh