From the Valley’s Edge

Step, Step, Ste-

exhilarate the surface fathom

its phantoms cackling down in hell

hungry for cosmic piecemeal

the churning whoosh a-stewing in my stomach

the crushing rush inside done filled my soul with want and fear

the cruise of cerebral ghosts at ease, at peace

the clash of indecision settled

the blinking slits from which i jumped through time

through talk and whispered walks and rhyme

close like doors of old saloons in rain

flapping against moisted dust and sand

until they rest a tear too open


Halfway down from the valley’s edge

comes now my recollection

my too long life, my too short life

my just right life, my all wrong life

the time i shat a splattery demon

on the kindergarten toilet

and the kids made me feel like diarrhea

the Jenna from fourth grade

who any thoughts of once melted through my dreams

and made me feel like the precise opposite of diarrhea

the time last week i OD’d

and shit myself

and for some reason thought of cinnabons

i see tomorrow too

it’s dark and grey and beautiful

the sky a hue of mourning roses

now soon the crash of “Oh my God”, “I’m so sorry” and “He seemed so happy”

the thoughts tremble and turn my tongue another color

bliss awaits i think

then i see

before the cold and lurking monster swallows my world whole

i see a year past tomorrow

and it’s different from what the valley projected

mirrored on either side that river rotten

which was nothing at all

instead now this friendly something waits with a door ajar

beckoning the option of my entry

before i flipped the bird a color black

and took the fall

i wish i could’ve seen the door creak shut

i wish i might’ve been there

i wish i didn’t urge to wish

i’m here now

aren’t i


i misplaced the letter for my memory

to explain, to let them have a better method to remember me

to let them forget me till they remember to remember me

that it was today

or tomorrow

what day won’t matter

to live and let

to decay and drown in scats of jazz and star dust

as we all must do



time slowed to the roll of tractors

against the slew of routine Lamborghini

called city-time

Diablo, Diablo, Di-

the moment feels like moments

frustrating my regret

And finally, the collision
the night
my mother
the night at once at last