“sympathomimetic transcendence”

escape the confines of these walls
imagine with me
take off everything
arms above your head
waving at the star light
sides convulsing
soul cleansing laughter
let go
to the rules of organization
the demands of responsibility
the panic of promises
waiting to disappoint you
just once fly
spread your wings
sore above it all
see the children playinglift off
like tomorrow won’t come
tonight is all that matters
be perfect
if that is what your heart desires
the illusion that any of us is unbroken
be foolish
if that’s what it takes to let go


Let’s go where everything is
get so close to God
we can run
our fingers through
her beard
listen for the echoes
hold hands with our shadows
believe in each other
like we aren’t all leaving
trying to make our exit gracefully
pretend like you won’t die
like your failing bones
will be mountains
when they grow out this skin
that keeps us tied to the gravity
that keeps us
from flying


everyone needs to at least once…


“Bring in the Clowns”

underneath the big top
the clowns wear make up
2nd ring
they hop out of a small car
one after the other
till empty Clowns
the car explodes and falls to pieces
they dance, throw water at each other
then confetti at the crowd

make us laugh clown

the clowns wear painted smiles
on their faces
bright so you can see them from a distance
broad strokes with their hands
deliberate flailing to be more visible
from the cheap seats

the top of the bleachers
roar with laughter
from the safety of the audience
as one clown strikes another
with an oversized mallet
against his head

one clown draws a gun
points it at another clown
pulls the trigger
a small flag appears from the barrel of the gun
scrawled in big comic font the word BANG!
clearly visible for all to see,

the clowns in my neighborhood
don’t wear make up
seldom smile
they pile into big cars with big tires
hit each other with crowbars and baseball bats
the guns go, “bang you’re dead”
with lightning not flags
so loud
you would think it was a clown car
exploding under the big top

the clowns in my hood
do not want your laughter
they want your wallet
your life
you better not move
this is a hold up
the clowns are angry
the intersection is the center ring
they lay in wait for an audience
and you never hear the ring master
when the show is about to begin.