as I drive aimlessly
along the late october coast
under a dreamtime sky,
I finally see that
there are three ways
to settle this:

let her go
- but she just won’t.
so fuck myself and drown her with me –
look love, I drive hands-free at 110 mph!

accept her
and live among ghosts forever.

give myself
to you.

the choice is easy. I won’t drive over the cliff.
take my hand.


close quarters

no, I have not forgotten
nor am I forgetting,
but she lives in dreamtime now -
too far away for a phone call.

as for me, I've found shelter from the cold,
and as I ponder all my
impossible pasts
and possible futures,
I mostly hope I will live
a little longer.

this is what you become
when you've lived at close quarters with death


outono peruano

o ar é de ardósia
coberta de giz
que escorre
traçados cris de calor
neste terrário hermético
onde brotam orquídeas carnudas
e um vaporoso cio
no substrato do nosso


love & hope

all conveivable tomorrows
burn their bright spears
into right now right here

how to disentangle
love and hopes?