bright abzu above me and running just as fast as the train when night a sanctuary of visions chases to my right in the shape of a paper dragon in indigo, and red, and mint green the breeze is in my bones inside my heart the train clicks on the tracks, and i sing w...

does it hurt to feel does it hurt to know do you shade your eyes when you pull the curtain from the window do you grab your phone when you could be dreaming do you start to dream when the morning is fleeting

easy easy there is no weight here no gold block dropped nor dented corner no porcelain to break heal, heal and take it easy a grain of rice rotted in the back of the cupboard there are more fragile things than a grain of rice hair heavy with water knew starch in a pot droplets ...

i found twenty dollars in the shadow of Quercus palustris, and you are too thin to hide behind i will use the change to leave later in the street

avert my view from the welding iron and run to the platform under umbrella pigeon under shelter of façade the warm train car every hand holding its phone i cry with the clouds this morning.

you in your mother’s bathroom adjusting your hair as i wander, the house to tell you it’s time to drive to the station to take the bus to seattle, and wait for you to appear. both our phones die tonight but, by magus books we make the last bus and combine our quarters for the pa...

february rains the february rains come down from the metal slats at myrtle broadway drizzle bellow scaffolding in soho while I walk back from my lunch break and a light shower pours from the brick facade at canal st station. the tundra on the sidewalk is still holding out for ...

someone left the door outside ripped from its hinges and left it to die it’s a fine wooden frame. an old man came by said “I made that back in ‘65, it was my claim to fame!” he’s still a carpenter but the goddamn factory put him out of work not a dime to his name.

the frozen water still in the shape of motion shouting from the roof

i love los angeles in january february march april may i go to laxc on a sunday to feed the stray cats by the unfinished building i run around the department of water and power downtown what a beautiful building the radio tower hill so green from afar we hike up so much trash und...

let aman read let aman keep reading in the fitting room do not give him clothes to fold let him piece together the past and future do not bother him with another size of black pajamas. let aristotle dream let aristotle keep dreaming in the aisles let him fold clothes...

my father wore this then my brother wore this now i wear it. my father used this my brother used this then i used it. now it waits in a drawer for yard sale and bulldozer and condo and forgetting.

snow snuck into my glove when i reaped joy from the hill. the sudden sting entered hibernation, exiting; i worked with cardboard in the morning my beating heart in my hands. skin covered in cold silt and warm soot and lasting embers. honest work, cauterized after my first winter...

there is a shape of eight, specific and when i’m there no time at all has passed

keeper of dreams won’t you lend one to me and breathe breathe again i pretend it’s all illusions but keep keep this one for me.

so much happens nothing changes but more and more comes to mind.

all my lyrics are weeds in the garden of your images

grey cloud is a halo on your head golden hair glowing in the wind

four more manhattan bridges i want to stay reflecting in the square windows over messy river for ten more minutes.

four more williamsburg bridges i wish we could be on this bridge for ten more minutes towering light and big water pass and pass and pass and give me peace.

january is the secret unexpected spring in your back pocket reach down for a seashell and instead pull out a coin your own hand hold it over your face pressing wool between there, tickle your nose send it backward upwards and overwards the sky! is green and white and golden take...

everyday i am saved by something so spectacularly normal

i love trees even when the light falls right through your fingers there’s no shade in the wintertime but the clouds accommodate you

to wake up to grip just hard enough wait, cold, shuffle, chin tuck baskets and chains glass blankets

how deep in the evening was it how how late in the evening were you and the passage of time was so easy to follow from running in my room to writing together again

there is none unwiser than me. there may be those who think themselves less wise but that is too wise a thought.

in front of your fingertips and before your eyes there are strong currents you get caught in like rip tides taking you Remember your branch stick it between the river stones hold still the water is refreshing to dip your toes into but return to dry land when you are done.

a reason to be helpless a moment of your time a curated playlist a time to be alone

outside of the sun i close my eyes and forget every fork in the road. the shade whispers to me ‘stay asleep do not wake up at dawn to climb the mountain’ something help me decide which way to take so i don’t fear the morning anymore.

rain rain come today today today today today

life is long run along treasure my time my green leaves crackle orange become sound under my feet water is weaving a silk sheet over the sky parceling white light over midmorning me o to live so much you call life the dream.

sometimes so devastating to get out of bed at 2pm let the catholic god forgive me on his day of rest

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enough words have been said enough even, have been listened to. my mind is heavy with emptiness a cloud layer sits on my sinus waiting to weep

it’s about time a dream came true a room with a view no earthquakes on the east coast brick building and tree lined train station take my guitar in carry-on spent so much time looking for somewhere to dream

don’t mind me i’m not dissociating i’m just trying to think of something clever to say

stone field of scarlett sunrising bed of standup bass orange werelight on the time machine pushing forward eroding and drying the magma this wisdom is given so freely blissed and loud he plays again, and again, and twelve or so times i’m so honored i’m so honored to be apart

spring your red thin filaments between concrete your white roses on the left side your flakey pink flowers your sparse lilac petals my empty lot of tall grass white heavens and green branches five leafed clover stay here stay here

car stops at a red light two limping coyotes cross the street to embarcadero

rather than stand on its own two feet the journey would rather crawl on four legs trampling over me, before i catch the saddle

stretch up as high as i can each morning back vertical arms long fingers reaching each way, eyes skyward, but heels solidly planted. what does it feel like to photosynthesize? maybe one morning roots will web from my toes twigs sprout from wrists chlorophyl in finger nails broa...

after i look through your tumblr again i am a fallen tree prostrating to you mountain

you may feel like a conformist, but the conformist is happy, the conformist is true, when he conforms to his own desires, his own plan of act. found in my 2018 notebook.

basking in between the radio towers, how much you’ve got and how long you’ve gone.

i can not express how it feels to see so many leaves raised up by shadows; standing in the tower like a bird’s first flight

hours before i shaved my head i walked into the market, the man said, “you are a girl? you are a boy? you are a boy with the face of a girl!” then i went back to the monastery and asked luca to film me cutting off my braids then i went to sitaram, and paid him to cut it all off, ...

I do something wonderful to you 君なにか素敵する 僕なにか素敵する You do something wonderful to me I do something wonderful to you To me To you To me To you You do something wonderful to me I do something wonderful to you 君なにか素敵する 僕なにか素敵する You do something wonderful to me I do something wonderfu...

bright abzu above me and running just as fast as the train when night a sanctuary of visions chases to my right in the shape of a paper dragon in indigo, and red, and mint green the breeze is in my bones inside my heart the train clicks on the tracks, and i sing w...

does it hurt to feel does it hurt to know do you shade your eyes when you pull the curtain from the window do you grab your phone when you could be dreaming do you start to dream when the morning is fleeting

easy easy there is no weight here no gold block dropped nor dented corner no porcelain to break heal, heal and take it easy a grain of rice rotted in the back of the cupboard there are more fragile things than a grain of rice hair heavy with water knew starch in a pot droplets ...

i found twenty dollars in the shadow of Quercus palustris, and you are too thin to hide behind i will use the change to leave later in the street

avert my view from the welding iron and run to the platform under umbrella pigeon under shelter of façade the warm train car every hand holding its phone i cry with the clouds this morning.

you in your mother’s bathroom adjusting your hair as i wander, the house to tell you it’s time to drive to the station to take the bus to seattle, and wait for you to appear. both our phones die tonight but, by magus books we make the last bus and combine our quarters for the pa...

february rains the february rains come down from the metal slats at myrtle broadway drizzle bellow scaffolding in soho while I walk back from my lunch break and a light shower pours from the brick facade at canal st station. the tundra on the sidewalk is still holding out for ...

someone left the door outside ripped from its hinges and left it to die it’s a fine wooden frame. an old man came by said “I made that back in ‘65, it was my claim to fame!” he’s still a carpenter but the goddamn factory put him out of work not a dime to his name.

the frozen water still in the shape of motion shouting from the roof

i love los angeles in january february march april may i go to laxc on a sunday to feed the stray cats by the unfinished building i run around the department of water and power downtown what a beautiful building the radio tower hill so green from afar we hike up so much trash und...

let aman read let aman keep reading in the fitting room do not give him clothes to fold let him piece together the past and future do not bother him with another size of black pajamas. let aristotle dream let aristotle keep dreaming in the aisles let him fold clothes...

my father wore this then my brother wore this now i wear it. my father used this my brother used this then i used it. now it waits in a drawer for yard sale and bulldozer and condo and forgetting.

snow snuck into my glove when i reaped joy from the hill. the sudden sting entered hibernation, exiting; i worked with cardboard in the morning my beating heart in my hands. skin covered in cold silt and warm soot and lasting embers. honest work, cauterized after my first winter...

there is a shape of eight, specific and when i’m there no time at all has passed

keeper of dreams won’t you lend one to me and breathe breathe again i pretend it’s all illusions but keep keep this one for me.

so much happens nothing changes but more and more comes to mind.

all my lyrics are weeds in the garden of your images

grey cloud is a halo on your head golden hair glowing in the wind

four more manhattan bridges i want to stay reflecting in the square windows over messy river for ten more minutes.

four more williamsburg bridges i wish we could be on this bridge for ten more minutes towering light and big water pass and pass and pass and give me peace.

january is the secret unexpected spring in your back pocket reach down for a seashell and instead pull out a coin your own hand hold it over your face pressing wool between there, tickle your nose send it backward upwards and overwards the sky! is green and white and golden take...

everyday i am saved by something so spectacularly normal

i love trees even when the light falls right through your fingers there’s no shade in the wintertime but the clouds accommodate you

to wake up to grip just hard enough wait, cold, shuffle, chin tuck baskets and chains glass blankets

how deep in the evening was it how how late in the evening were you and the passage of time was so easy to follow from running in my room to writing together again

there is none unwiser than me. there may be those who think themselves less wise but that is too wise a thought.

in front of your fingertips and before your eyes there are strong currents you get caught in like rip tides taking you Remember your branch stick it between the river stones hold still the water is refreshing to dip your toes into but return to dry land when you are done.

a reason to be helpless a moment of your time a curated playlist a time to be alone

outside of the sun i close my eyes and forget every fork in the road. the shade whispers to me ‘stay asleep do not wake up at dawn to climb the mountain’ something help me decide which way to take so i don’t fear the morning anymore.

rain rain come today today today today today

life is long run along treasure my time my green leaves crackle orange become sound under my feet water is weaving a silk sheet over the sky parceling white light over midmorning me o to live so much you call life the dream.

sometimes so devastating to get out of bed at 2pm let the catholic god forgive me on his day of rest

profile picture

enough words have been said enough even, have been listened to. my mind is heavy with emptiness a cloud layer sits on my sinus waiting to weep

it’s about time a dream came true a room with a view no earthquakes on the east coast brick building and tree lined train station take my guitar in carry-on spent so much time looking for somewhere to dream

don’t mind me i’m not dissociating i’m just trying to think of something clever to say

stone field of scarlett sunrising bed of standup bass orange werelight on the time machine pushing forward eroding and drying the magma this wisdom is given so freely blissed and loud he plays again, and again, and twelve or so times i’m so honored i’m so honored to be apart

spring your red thin filaments between concrete your white roses on the left side your flakey pink flowers your sparse lilac petals my empty lot of tall grass white heavens and green branches five leafed clover stay here stay here

car stops at a red light two limping coyotes cross the street to embarcadero

rather than stand on its own two feet the journey would rather crawl on four legs trampling over me, before i catch the saddle

stretch up as high as i can each morning back vertical arms long fingers reaching each way, eyes skyward, but heels solidly planted. what does it feel like to photosynthesize? maybe one morning roots will web from my toes twigs sprout from wrists chlorophyl in finger nails broa...

after i look through your tumblr again i am a fallen tree prostrating to you mountain

you may feel like a conformist, but the conformist is happy, the conformist is true, when he conforms to his own desires, his own plan of act. found in my 2018 notebook.

basking in between the radio towers, how much you’ve got and how long you’ve gone.

i can not express how it feels to see so many leaves raised up by shadows; standing in the tower like a bird’s first flight

hours before i shaved my head i walked into the market, the man said, “you are a girl? you are a boy? you are a boy with the face of a girl!” then i went back to the monastery and asked luca to film me cutting off my braids then i went to sitaram, and paid him to cut it all off, ...

I do something wonderful to you 君なにか素敵する 僕なにか素敵する You do something wonderful to me I do something wonderful to you To me To you To me To you You do something wonderful to me I do something wonderful to you 君なにか素敵する 僕なにか素敵する You do something wonderful to me I do something wonderfu...