Capgun Boy

i burnt the crust for the lemon squares, the ones
for the easter party - and jesus rose after three days
in some dark stony cave. his non-physical ascension

inward, not upward. may i arrive this afternoon
and be forgiven for the burnt crust? may i too
transcend the horrible ego?

Apr 20
easter party

nobody’s hero but my own, i’d blame
the apartment window before my own eyes.
the shadow in my room (its in your room too)
is not really there, it is peter pan’s shadow,
shadow of potential. be heroic in your sleep
and dream of a spiral staircase going deep
down and you’ll wake up mything out
all that shit

Apr 19
Apr 16


your hardcore innocence
in total shambles
at the train car’s
colorful pornography

Mar 30
#tbt  2005 recording music in my room
Mar 20

#tbt 2005 recording music in my room

the heads bowed
and eyes closed
kept us blessed

but oh

the kneecaps 
of the girls 
in their sunday best

Mar 19
on being eleven and in church

i used your sundress as a bandage, it holds
the apple-scent of spring and my hand
was bleeding from a slipped knife when cutting fruit.
not for lack of gauze by god i went out of my way
to wreck your closet and rip for its beauty to fix me.
but now your light white cotton ruined
with my violent mistake, i can’t say sorry
because it worked- look the apple-shine of my skin
where the gash once was

Mar 13

wet road, we rode in your dad’s car
for dollar movies and fast food.
no seatbelts in that green chevy nova
but his glare in the rear view kept me
from sliding too close. he didn’t know
that there never was a movie and we never ate
but instead walked a quarter mile to downtown
as soon as he was out of sight to lean
into each other below the courthouse stairs.
the heavy summer teaching us to stick together,
but its been ten years now and i’m sorry
for his daughter and me too, i did not deserve
to ride in such a beautiful car

Mar 6
Chevy Nova

sneak out the library, ditch all your classes
i have three cigarettes left and a new hiding spot.
you think it’s under the bleachers but come on
this ain’t a tv show this is real life. you think
i should buy a leather jacket, dress myself 
like a decade. it’s a quarter till one and you’re
wearing a letterman jacket, some guy’s some punk’s
right, there’s a comb in my pocket and a knife too.
what’s in these cigarettes baby i feel like the bomb
is going off. where do you buy your clothes? 
once the bell rings lets split, i keep getting 
funny looks from the principal. he can probably
smell my shit right now

Mar 6
tv show

this is spring but you can’t see it, i am trying
to thread out the night cloth from my bedsheets.
jaimie says she slept weird last night. the weather
keeps changing and i can’t keep up.

birds migrate with map precision for what
feels like the whole year. i make coffee
in the morning and then what. daylight savings
is soon to fix something, anyway

i am trying to recreate your bedroom window
and all the earth beyond but i can’t get
the weather right. all i need is an extra hour
and then i swear i’ll have it all worked out.

Mar 5
birthday morning pre-coffee
Mar 2

birthday morning pre-coffee

wood walks, afternoon gets earthy and dirty
so quick to pull barbs off your hoodie sleeve
and your voice a thankyou softened by dead

leaf steps. everywhere is someone’s backyard
but if we’re quiet enough, and we always are,
we can stake claim and isolate for some hours.

see some light like shards freckling your face
and if you stand still i can chart all things moving
from your chin to just below your eyes.

such small distances between two things, i want
to be as quiet as i can with you, i want to be
the air your voice cuts through.

Feb 17
As an English major, i enjoy some light reading - specifically the classics
Feb 11

As an English major, i enjoy some light reading - specifically the classics

night kitchen - street lights simmering in the window
for february’s early dark. i am young and in love
and living with a girl, she reaches now through me
to you to become imagined and you may think of birds
but you should think of rivers. now me over the stove-top,
the heat heavy and slick and my glasses fog. you may think
of fathers but you should think of stray cats - fending 
for a frame, a body stretched taut by working. the meal
only perambulates the night, the night is its own meal.

Feb 6
Jan 29

it snowed in atlanta and everyone freaked out but we stayed grooovy