Sitting In a Buzz

Sound drowns out
Music kicks in
Across the country
Across your veins
Across everything you don’t know
With mountains in the background
Blue mountains
Red mountains
No mountains
So the prose roars
Lines howl
Across interstates
Across medians
Across all sort of boundaries
You didn’t know existed
So your phone vibrates
Screens scream
Trying to distract me
From what’s really me
Like I’m some sort of propaganda
Like I’m weighing someone down
Like the same shit ain’t happening all around the world
Through the days
Through the winds
Through memories you autonomously forgot
Through the stars
From all different kinds of angles
The stars you’ve talked about for oh so long
And they come
They go
Wherever a scent leads them
I suppose I can’t smell
Or maybe I just want it all
I’ll take it all


Sedona, Arizona

Sedona, Arizona

The Suburbs

Native American tears
Are only novelties
To these east coast fucks
Who are too small
Too liquid
Too imaginary
To comprehend
The country we live in
The walks 
The races
The famine 
The compromise
The slanted compromise
Before we have too much time
To think real things
Let’s drive to the suburbs 

Fucking flower children and their Subaru’s

Native poetry warlord

What The Fuck Are They Talking About

Heavy things
High things
Future things
Thing things
Things of drama
Weird laughter
Comfortable laughter
Things hanging from trees
Unseen things
Magic buses
All kind of things
I go mono-toned

Lake Tahoe, California


Quatrains For Utah

Take me to salt
Heal my body
Heal my fault
Forever flawed
Without fire
Within honey
Without liars
Feeling smooth
Glistening blue
Mellow blues
Tranquil tunes
Soft and cold
Country sunset
Mountain crest
Forever wild
Miles n’ miles
Mountain town
Four children
Scream aloud
No romantics
Just lessons
Cheap cover
Does it again

Sleeping on asphalt in bum fuck Illinois

Sleeping on asphalt in bum fuck Illinois

Just a Note

Golden sunsets
Stuck in traffic
Learning some beautiful lesson
From a bunch of goons
Talking music
And stories of pubescent immaturity
But it’s alright
Always alright
I’m writing
Under golden sunset
And that’s alright

The cross country crew. Baltimore to San Fran.

The cross country crew. Baltimore to San Fran.