anctious

I often talk about mourning
and weeping
And beauty to make you weep,
and disaster to make you mourn,
and the mess of the world
that creeps up close next to you
while you sleep
or wake
or eat
or dink,
or whatever you do,
and every tear will be wiped away.
but I don’t weep:
I’m not moved enough to weep,
I’m not angry:
I’m too complacent for it.

Anctious says:

at the protest

some years ago. this guy asked me to take his picture. he gave me a business card so I could send the picture to him. I never sent the picture to him.

Αθήνα

why

I flew across the world;
your eyes were like stars,
then like rivers,
then like mountains
topped with ice an chilled with frost,
and I left, lost in
foreign lands and loud, echoing chants,
(but somehow someone or something
always brings me back again.
until then I'll wander
with your eyes following
me like guilty flying
sprites to brush the
dirt off my shoulders
and then fly to new heights of beauty.
but the dirt is mine

who stepped in the water at 4 am?

the upside-down man

diamond-plate reverse

beef

but the grey eyed goddess said

my painting is back there

sweetman in 2005

live poetry reading at the Los Angeles Unified Detention System, myles accompanying on uke

la

"you get the stink of LA in your bones"
-bukowski