How does one direct their thoughts? In silence… In darkness… In awareness of the world, I, this fragment of existence, become a concretizer, bulldozing metaphysical forests wherever I walk. They flourish feverishly from all objects Like the black chair, of mortality Where one sits to feel the body, So, one remembers death, And…

A poem about the first party since my vaccination — For every nanosecond of our lives, A randomizing atomizer scrambles a soul’s ingredients And boils them to / a conscious vapor, Hovering, hugging the eyes as I look at a taxi, Approaching me. The driver says my name. “Steven?” Strobing self-remembrance flashes the self, In temporary spans, but by the zillions, So…

A poem about identity-narrative

A prose-poem investigating the occupation of emergency dispatchers — The cyclical bridge looping same days is the worst stagnation; motion without change, no outlet to adolescent Atlantis of timelessness, passes the same synaptic graffiti, burned on adulthood: a hoarder of emotional junk at a bus-stop, the number of the transit to weightlessness forgotten. There’s another pass on the cyclical…

A prose-poem of abstract expressionism — Slow-hypnotize the flow, And the bolt, of the arm / creeps along the table for the mug. In the delay, causality’s moonlight, (The reflection of a moment taking on a life) shine-twines with the next moment: sipping coffee, I think, my cloud of willpower must not drift the day. And…

A poem

Birth zooming from the sexual revolution to the generation of potential STDs, AIDs-phobia precedes the date, as I lean in for the kiss. She’s looking at her phone, for a satisfying substitute for reality and real people like this date. I turn to my virtual Jesus, our personal Lord, and…

Two butterflies, White and thin as paper, Fold/unfold in fluttering twirls, Of binary code. Dancing ones and zeros flirt among the sky, Problem-solving the permanence of yellow suburban houses, Angling down to their equation: the heat-buzzing streets / pulsate with a frequency-interference as an anomaly of an 8-wheeler rumbles pass. Mathematic metropolises are…

Based on true events — Wolfpack-collective unconscious, weaponized for war, surge with exhilarating camaraderie, webbed, snaring fear, devoured for strength by motley species of spiders known as “Marines.” Exhilarating camaraderie, de-weaponized for peace, narrows to one, my father. Remove the weaponized collective unconscious, and the war remains, in silence. Beware the idyllic blue sky; chameleonic…