On some words of wonder
questions regarding
merit one commits to herself

A critique of a
society defining only by
the numbers on the screen. Where
the timing of a lighting
stops; starts
dead on a screen
where it chooses only

Typing words on a screen
far brighter than any
of our greatest dreams

Stacks for, and stacking to
the William Carlos Williams’s;
Memorizes the stanzas; translates
the feelings. Thinks with a soul
like starved men think
with a stomach. Still lonesomely
Contending questions considering

Rhyme and reason;
what have you,
my kind sir —

Some method by
which to digest the
numbers on the screen?

Untitled nostaleolistitec, 1.3

i’ve seldom heard of good writing


or picture painted
off not of wine but pure


i’ve seldom heard of good men
deemed perfect

by society;


not corrupted
in some way.

The Woodpecker

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I’m listening to you
Woodpecker, but I don’t think
You know I can hear you.
I’m listening to you
Woodpecker; I really love to hear you
Take your heart and put it
Out on the line of the trees and such and sing
Your song
Up all the afternoon long;
Now sing to me Woodpecker
Even though you don’t know I can hear you.

Love As

On love —
The remembrance of its worth taken always may
Above all remain
Not to suggest
The intolerance of magic,
But rather the realization of love’s power as such great
The authority of the world
Truly remains uncharted.
So let us now hold
Oh so deeply and oh so verily,
The exclusive preciousness of a promise:

If but one ticket to heaven
Was to be split between the two of us,

I’d give the whole thing to you.

What It’s Like to Live in Charleston


The air is not crisp but can tell you still
Of the rouse which may hide behind
The commons and the barren ground
That of the one we may now touch all around.
And with not superstition, but rather
The cough of an older father
Understand finally on a deeper fathom
What it’s like to live in Charleston.