The words, the words trickled up from my throat
chitchaty insects careful not to misquote
declaring out loud what I’d previously wrote
The words, the words trickled up from my throat
The words, the words escaped from my mouth
dripping with moisture after the drought
like a companionless intentional crane flying south
The words, the words escaped from my mouth
"Yes. This is what I call a fucking collaboration! Fuck the children's book, let's do more stuff like THIS! Ok, not fuck the children's book, but, I'm proud of this poem/illustration! It totally inspired me, dude. I hope you like it! I love you." —Cassie Dixon
Read MoreBeastly child, you’re less adored
small, deformed, homely, abhorred
Teeth like a broken window pane
It’s ok, child, you need not explain
It’s fine child, don’t mind a great deal
You’ll never have much appeal
We are the music-makers.
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams;
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world forever, it seems.
These little girls that rise from corn fields bold & busting at the
seams with hazy expectations unreceptive to the lives &
movements of those growing & dying before them.
Sallys, Emmys, & Maryanns they think they know it all, they
do. Proclamations of youth too ripe to pick but much too
mouthwatering to pass by. Tomorrow’s another day& another
day of bursting skulls and spoiled greens.
In Sweetness and Love is 160 pages of absolutely stunning Kodachrome photographs taken in the mid 1950s to 1960s by my great-grandparents John and Mabel Moore accompanied by poignant quotes, lyrics, and excerpts.
They spent as much time traveling as they did at home and locations captured include Wyoming, California, New Mexico, Hawaii, New York, Guam, Arizona, and the Philippines.
My sincerest gratitude to them for their diligence in documenting their later years and thus providing me with such a vivid glimpse into the beautifully small but significant intricacies of their wonderful lives 60 years later.
Read MoreI shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
When my dad died
The worms ate out both his eyes
His soul flew right up in the sky
I cried myself to sleep
My mother lies
Alone on her back at night
Adding up hours till her demise
She counts herself to sleep
I'm thinking I really have nowhere else to go. I'm thinking I've become that person. I'm thinking a lot lately about God, a god, another plane of existence, another dimension, an afterlife, everyone we ever loved - now gone. I'm thinking I could die at this very moment and every question I've ever really had could be answered. I'm thinking my bones are aching and you look exhausted. I'm thinking you have dark circles under your eyes and I'm covered in cuts and bruises. I'm thinking everything's always for looks, for appearances, I'm thinking rain always brings out the doubts and hopelessness in me - but I wouldn't give it up for anything else in the world. I'm thinking everyone's moving forward and I'm standing still.
Read More“On the girl's brown legs there were many small white scars. I was thinking, Do those scars cover the whole of you, like the stars and the moons on your dress? I thought that would be pretty too, and I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.” ―Chris Cleave
Read MoreBig fish in little pond will soon be swimming at sea
I was a human collage, with your name all over my arms.
It took you years to realize they were talking about me
But it was just play pretend, never did any harm
You said I’m incapable of growing; smile
You were never good at coping with change
Or really a single thing that alters your lifestyle
I always did find it somewhat strange
Remember when we were young
little road-trips here and there
through Colorado in the summer, in the fall
driving home, going HOME
infinite blades of grass looking frail, dying.
to New Mexico
I love the desert in the fall
Makeshift crosses on every sharp bend
with names and years and "rest in peace"
Bobcat workin' at the Chama Chevron
Old gas stations now libraries
and unfortunate cats and dogs in pieces
on the highway
Close your eyes, close your eyes.
Sometimes it's much too easy to look away.
Read MoreAccustomed to yesterday's remains,
tomorrow's fears and the deaths of today,
in time and thought and hypotheticals.
I couldn't grasp your disappearance,
the world minus you, minus love.
and with your corpse on my floor
and no mess to clean I'm bemused;
s to how to open my eyes to a new beginning.
Before the thirst rages every theft
and you consume it all
Leaving me with nothing left
Before the hunger threatens every love
and we surrender ourselves
and everything we’re made of
Before you threaten every me
with promises of stillness and vacancy
and the looming death of us
Remember without you I can’t be.
Read MoreThe old mill dies on top of the trash
Yet Little Miss hardly bats an eyelash
So much of that dirty shit has left a rash
Scrapes, bruises and whiplash
And so the royal civilian decides
After all he never took sides
Like a good little boy he always abides
By the rules, never mind the landslides
And so Little Miss dodges a threat ‘
cause she hasn’t touched that dang trash yet
Just thinkin’ about it gets her upset
Fucking pile always blocks the sunset
Royal civilian’s washed his hands of it all
Broken bottles, typewriter keys, toys and dolls
Couldn’t get it all done before nightfall
That old mill was nothing but an ugly catchall
7' and quickly sinking
7 seconds from sleep to blinking
7 times and no more tries
7 days, seven sighs
7 years and twenty nine
7 more 6 sublime.
"It's amazing how some things on earth are true reflections of what we see in the sky. Like, there really is order to this psychotic place."
Read MoreEven pretty girls cry.
She told me I was lying.
As long as it abstains from poetic incoherence,
slaughterhouses, and pretty pigs in pretty wings.
Even pretty girls cry.
and momma lives in twilight,
where denial rings loudly.
“She’s gonna be a star. She’s gonna be a star.”
You know me, every bit and piece of me
Every bit and piece of you speaks. Loudly
to me and you always know, you always knew
Though you never wanted to
You laughed, you played, you smiled
Not typically soft and mild
You were my eyes, my ears, my beating dripping heart
You were, from the start
from the very start of time
You, me, sweet sublime
I loved you all the time
Between love and hate, yesterday and tomorrow
I’ll love you in the meantime
You’re this and that, here and there
I’ll love you everywhere
Even when I’m not there
Read MoreBecause I need you smiling
& crying & dying on the inside & vying
& craving & paining & screaming
me, beaming & gleaming
because baby, I’m numb & sedated
if I’m not dreaming.
Because baby, you told me you loved me
& baby, I believed every word
but why wouldn’t I; it wasn’t absurd.
Every human ear had heard.
Because ears have legs
& scatter like plagues.
