Ouch, that hurt!

I think I’ve realized what the fuck is going on. Consider these seemingly separate and distinct data points:

  • The rise in “safe spaces” and restrictions on free speech on college campuses
  • The upsurge in populism and nationalism driving exclusionary anti-immigrant policies as well as racial and class-biased animosity
  • A new gender neutrality and nullification in language specifically binary pronouns, etc.
  • Gluten free anything
  • Anti-vaccination and generally anti-science/anti-fact movements
  • Anecdotal evidence taking the place of proven statistical outcomes
  • Flat earth weirdness
  • And on and on and on.
  • All of these things and events (and instances like them) point to a single cause; people attempting to reduce any outside influence that specifically causes them discomfort.

    Seriously, for some unknown reason, human beings have recently (in the past 10 years or so) got it into their heads that somehow, contrary to human history going back 300,000 years, they are “owed” a life of comfort and safety. AND…that anything that would impinge on that comfort MUST BE DESTROYED, outlawed or otherwise abolished.


    • You believe that you don’t match any common gender terms? Easy, force everyone else to use the ones YOU prefer.


  • You don’t like people who don’t look like you? Simple, make laws restricting where “those people” can go and live.
  • You believe that vaccinations cause autism? Merely decide not to get your kids vaccinated.
  • You’re uncomfortable when someone else’s ideas and speech don’t align with your own? Viola! Protest and occupy college campuses and get that speech shut down.
  • And on and on and on.

    Can you imagine in 1850 when families were piling onto rickety, ill-conceived wagon trains on death filled journeys across thousands of miles of uncharted territories an 18 year kid complaining that a sweaty dirty cowboy riding alongside wouldn’t refer to herself as “they”??

    BWaaaaa Haaaaaa haaaaaaa…we’re growing as a species into a generation of fucking crybaby wimps who cannot defend ourselves from even the slightest of discomforts. And if an alien race lands one day soon in the hopes of conquering this planet?
    We are fucking doomed.


the next detail

Have you ever
gotten angry
at your eyes
because something you’re
looking at
is too large, too detailed…
to beautiful
to see it all at once?
And your eyes scan and focus,
move to the next detail,
the next detail
the next detail
because you want to
you HAVE to
see everything at once,
the whole thing
its entirety
as if you could inhale it
in one
But you can’t
because your eyes aren’t fast
enough, aren’t
large enough,
don’t have
the ability, capability
to absorb the massive
amount of information
that you want,
You make me
at my eyes.

4 words

We know the words, the 4 words most
important to our journey
our sailing ship
the words that are the difference, the
true difference
between knowing
and hoping
between here
and there
we know the words and wait
to hear them…
from ourselves, from others, from
inside and
in darkness, in
a chilled velvet November New York night,
in a
blast furnace August Miami morning
we know the words;
‘you are not alone’
and they are vital not because “alone” is horrible
unwanted deprived diminished
but because if we hear
them, if
they land on eardrums waiting;
then someone
said them
and knowing that , feeling that;
having that be the friction on skin that warms
the beating of blood
that knowledge becomes
a beacon
a shining lighthouse in storms
of hazard and casualty
and by setting
our compass to a distant point
on a hidden
we will always be able
capable of going
even if home is wherever we are
right now.


Now I watch as if I am living
a moment of suspension, a madness
creeping by on cat feet,
the edge of awareness
I watch her
walk away and felt
my blood cool inside of
felt the street beneath
my feet
the air against my
and sadness
blanket the noises around me
until I heard
and I realized
I was happy to once have had
something so amazing
to lose;
the places where her face filled memories
her smile, eyes that
looked back at me
too, too briefly
as the dinner hour rushed by
she became and at once went
into a past cluttered
with meaningless and thoroughly abstract
echoes of a before
there was a

The guessing crowds

We want it all to make sense, to
be clear, intelligible, sane and us
in control but
it will never be, it is only a mask
to the madness
and what is inside you
only guessed at by the surrounding crowd…so
we accept obvious lies from
people we trust, from
words on paper, from
beginning to end we are and have always been
we have always been singularly in control, but
not out there;
in here
where we breathe think believe and are
and only
beautiful full moving staring
relentlessly outward
as if out there is an answer in the many faces
the naked bodies like breadcrumbs to follow backwards
the dream
there is nothing out there; there is only inside
and we create everything else with our
choices decisions preferences bias hatred indifference disgust
we make ourselves whole by the people we create
around us
we create them by choosing
how we are treated
and often it is quantity we choose
because quality
exists inside
very few
so the cacophony of guessing crowds
however maddening spiteful and damaging
takes the place
where quiet

info age

We don’t know what we used to think
it was something
what we couldn’t see hear touch
we wondered…we revered and rewarded those
who wrote poetry and stories
about who we were
trying to get under the covers
the skin
to divine that which was
and there was joy in the guessing
being wrong was normal
was accepted, was
the rule
but now today it is an avalanche
a hard rain of information for days and
a heavy scream sitting on shoulders
on our minds we
try to hide but it’s a magnet
drawing us back
no one is wrong…ever
everything is there
technology murders our dreams in the night
here we are all dolled up
at daybreak
waiting for a like, a LOL, a thumbs up
wanting to be noticed
wanting to be noticed
to be noticed
because that is us now
willfully exposing the soft squirmy inside
no speculation required
and we don’t know if poetry or stories
will ever
replace what is
lost…what we know now
we willfully

she moves

I disappear
beneath her skin, absorbed
like a simple spring rain on too dry sand,
she moves an arm, a
knee bends, her eyelids
slow to roll up
and I react, a long breath of
between, her and me;
she is the moment
I feel
the shiny newness of this
what this is
I care less and, what
it isn’t, I care more…but
awakening under morning lights
under the guise of knowing
I reappear for the moment
shifting above the waves
of her, of me…looking
for the tide that takes us deep
into an ocean
of yesterday, thinking that it was
a today I can’t forget
a day that will be replayed…but now
no waves of realization, no
vibrations across small ponds of
emotion, just
the reappearance of
I did not