dreamt of driving through flat texas landscape looking for the tigris delta in an old land rover with you or someone that might have been you.

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dirty city 2

sad and exhausted from the weight of it all

I was born in a dirty city

she never left the dirty city

I’m going back to the dirty city

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Did Pablo Neruda win or lose?

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Medellín, Caterine Ibargüen, Mariana Pajón, plata, contaminación, la gripa, Abergavenny, estoy perdido.

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dirty city

down the dirty mountain
to the dirty city
my hand touching yours
your hand beneath mine
it looks alright.

Posted in poetry

nunca deje sin un beso

nunca deje sin un beso

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I love everyone.
I think everything is great.

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Experience / Day 1

I can’t talk to you (all of you or any of you)
something happens
sometimes in a sentence sometimes after a while
it breaks. I break it.

thank god I don’t care any more
I watch. no regrets, only slow stiffening around fathomless pools of sadness.

I wanted to love you. No subtext, it’s all true. could have been beauty too.

We want to put sex in a box, and what’s outside,
that’s not sex, that’s not sex,
of course it oozes out it’s already out it’s in everything.
you walking down the street in the sunshine
the curve of your ass rolling across another body
a row of vulvas pushed in the air.


time to re-take the fundamentals class
listen to the birds the wind the water
your words (all your words, each one of them) a waterfall always flowing.

Am i listening?
how am I listening?
what am I offering?
what should I offer?

Stop that’s enough.
fuck off.

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do n-line workers have to hang flashing lights in their bedrooms and paint white stripes across the bed to be able to sleep.

does anything think Phil Lesh ever knew what notes he was playing.

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Fort Worth


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