Dark secrets live and breathe
behind every door.
Staggered like a dagger, in pass.
What I am is full of crass.
Cheeks gleam like ovens,
sweat pours out of canyon pores
From fresh-faced lovers
with impressively-passive sass.


I am frolicking amongst 
the metropolitan coral reef.
Youthful concrete scenes
still taunts at my bedside table.
Happy is the one that dreams
where the moonlight beams?
An envious Tooth Fairy
thinks that all of this a fable.


Look at the Greek gods
wearing colorful, itchy sweaters.
The Greenhouse Effect is retained
in their invisible bodies.
Honey, you are as soft
as the silkiest of feathers
But your zipper is down...
a purposeful tease to be naughty?


Urban Dictionary diction
buckles my succulent vocals.
Deft fingers like microdots
in a spot in the ocean.
Odessa on the map, are we merely
the yokel locals?
Some fears ago, our boats sailed
together with devotion.


Sergeant Gerheim in my ear?
Bacteria inside cells.
Miracles, like watching a serpent
jumping over walls.
If you see me again, I want you to
ring all of my bells,
Sail all of my sails, but please
do not be appalled:


Because roses aren’t really red.
Because rosaries are alive & breast-fed?
Because Art spied on color
& braced itself for innovation.
Because what remains is our raw imaginations,
colorblind, I said
Like Color waiting on its imminent
monochrome decapitation.


Me oh my of my eye jumping through
all of these hurdles.
Think not like the bungee jumper
thinking of a weak rope.
I’m preyed upon, prayed upon,
like giant sea turtles.
Why are you so difficult to reach?
she said (thinking there’s hope).


Watch closely towards
the belltower before midnight strikes.
I’ll be there, eating GMOs,
but nothing will ever faze me.
She said, I’ll watch from a forest
full of towering pikes
Because we’re in the perfect Age
to drive one another crazy.


The Golden Unchi
should be a mascot
the way that

prominent nipples
on the tops of Bishops’ heads

in Chess.

I want to be
a mascot called DramaFever.

Where is Golden Memory
& what is Love (baby
don’t hurt me)

when it isn’t behind
the dumpster
or in

The Hall of Very Good
or Only So-So.

Some kind of soft & mushy
heart, like
forensic scientists

that can use DNA
based on some Goon’s diary.
I am one bad

result away from the assault on
the dreaded


in the hope that I might
prove to myself
that I can be

what society wants me to be
as I lick my lips
& think of

to the vampires of the world—

that sweet smell of caress. You
should aim for an
healthy Unchi keychain. Like

my post?
Tag me, bro. My heart
is dancing like a

bobcat that is on fire. I wear
my unchi
on my sleeve. See? I’m proving

my worth to you, to society. I will
Instagram it all
for a minuscle percentage of the world
to see. I’m

a remnant, disappearing faster
than Myspace.
A spoke on the wheel that keeps
spinning & spinning.

My Space
is where you should
be. My love

is a dolphin. Think
about it.



Talking landscapes in silent films
are like ghosts walking across
a crowded proscenium.

Mind, full of fragments:
Cubist props. Vigorous energy
like being aware
that an artist is in the room.

I’m contained in a jet-stream:
naked & clothed at the same instance,
embodied in an unbound Unbody.

I’m an undying Hamlet-figure in a windy
Shakespearean echo—
Ethereal, haunted, ipso facto.