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Thirty-six postcards sealed with the wax from our fingertips, looking on to a destination sending each letter addressed to one another northward. A haphazard endeavor planned to an ellipses raining down upon the blankets we slept with the night before departing. An opaque post-midnight moon greeted dreary eyes struggling to act as fast as the excitement flooding through ocean wide irises. Rest was postponed to the next new moon, until the prospect of another such event would ease the primal anxiety of drought, allowing sleep to come swift and easily. Panel floors paced to dirt path finding distraction amongst the purple finches sipping sunflower shells- ferreting warm hollows when Lake Michigan is signaling its time to furrow home. Spit pine pitch between the spaces, stretch skin spin it to cloth, the sails are meek, our will is tender, our feathers are in line. Mild temperature fluctuation keeps an undulating cadence a heartbeat afar. Driving through skin cells since deliquesced to cedar bearing soil, t-shirts un-spun strands of fabric base-faded- left dangling from restroom bathrooms fourth stall down, taped to a cigarette butt left just passed exit one eighty-four, dropped at the Starbucks in Mackinaw City- are catenated- crossing off the tattoos burrowed beneath an unending breath. Wood panels are paced to dirt path, concrete is cantered to river rock corridors tracing shore's coast.
Pitch lingers with the humid hum of a fire beating away at pine logs, songs offered for introduction exchanging diaries to aid in re-naturalization. Wandered forlorn to a scrapbook written with adolescence. Now adults, now denatured, mostly ripe but some parts fermenting, some parts still green. There's a feeling of reverie, stubborn and serene. Here we are, teeth glistening standing out against the backdrop of a setting sun reclaimed, of cedar trees kissing condensation's edge, our reflection visible in the water whisking away a shade of sand. Layers of colour exploded over, earthy textures splashed in pointillism revealing a mountain scaled to surmountable size. Oh, foliage scavenging for chlorophyll kaleidoscopes, eyes scatter light gazing out to a view never to be mapped. Shelter unraveled before us, a red canvas hidden in the brush, set up a mess-what became a community effort. These places have names, these people are known but there's beauty in imagining everything is wild and incapable of ownership-it's more freeing to be a secret. Songs are sung, legs in full flight intertwined with choruses of a soul released through a stuttered alphabet. Light evaporates under a veil of ink splatters, taking shelter in glass jars flickering intermittently, figures no more shadows slip comfortably betwixt aluminum chairs, becoming visible, staggered with the fervent flutter of an intimate strobe light syndicate. Tent rustles roar softly, settling serenely amongst steadfast prolonged pauses between quivers. Nature knows no repetition just successful pattern, at rest, with our beaks closed, we've returned home.


from Pacific and Concord (Spoken Word), released September 17, 2016



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VanGogh Defense Systems Armed, Warhol Is Imminent Michigan

An outlet of emotion poorly played and written only slightly better.

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