Gratuitous Platypus Pictures

This is obviously the most important piece of literature written in the history of humanity. Fuck you Bible, fuck you Rosetta Stone, and especially you Stephanie Myers.

These are cuter than your children. Even the ones related to me.

"I present to you the awesome you can NEVER be.

"LOOK AT ME, BITCH, LOOK AT ME WHILE I SWIM OVER YOU!"

Heart of June

Your heart

(the zodiac in June)

leaning towards December

not the passage of time

this must be the rhythm

or dimensionalless pulse

do you hear the vibration

of the way you are designed?

Simple or silent orchestra

these are the stars!

Constellations speaking,

in the heart of June.

Half Existence

A feeling of things half existing
there would be a ghost if
I chose to make one up.
Here we are, learning to crystalize,
lock in our science of emotion.
And, I am everything I feel.
Tonight this is all I am,
doing everything halfway.
Not the least of things, dreaming
with a heart of fire, heart of stone.
Here are these ancient things,
ancient desires I once knew
only through inference
from secondhand sources.
Now I know too much.
Shooting at targets
no one else can see.
How do I know if
these things are real?

Haiku I

Somethings too easy -
the heart of the summer sounds.
You must close your eyes.

Untitled III

This must be where we come
to become what we are.
A universe unto its self.
Existance the only answer
to the question of creation.
A sigh of life where we do not look back
for fear of becoming that pillar of salt.

How cold the transformation
but, still I am reminded of your scent
you, a dimension all your own.
(more heart than anything)

All around me, the hazards.
I could not spare myself for any light
the distance to stars, dark matter.

The secrets and math of the cosmos
speak like Oracles to me
it is something made
to bring you to me.

I Could Not Do For Fear of Life

I could not do for Fear of Life.

That I was, and could be,

this was my greatest downfall.

This was the crux of my suicide,

that I would survive to live

and thus to pain and loss.

If before I knew only the Fear

of Youth and Early Death

this has changed to love

of self, of the earthly ethereal.

Like an Easter morning,

this is me risen all the same.

There is no healing

without some hurt.

A House Like a Double Breasted Suit

This is what happens when I look at too much modern architecture...

I want to build us a house

like a double breasted suit.

At once to hide, and also

to portray our parts,

our shoulders, our stance.

It will not go out of fashion.

The slate grey paint will not fade.

You and I shall live there.

Like men, refined, aloof, strong, together.

You Were the Stone

I've never been much for dreams
I've so few I recall in the morning
There are few that have stuck we me
like the one about you and I
shopping for produce Sunday morning.
I awoke to find you next to me
and I think you thought my joy was...
well, some form of a sickness.
You were scared to be rejoiced in.
Terrified of having someone love you,
and need you because of love,
and not the other way around.
The hard thing is you're one of the few
who understand the causal arrow
and that maybe it is out of our control.
It's been long enough you should not
still be lurking around my soul
not like this, you should be a good memory
the bad ones don't seem to have faded
something around the last two years
means I am full of things I didn't know
things that are heavy, things that won't die
things that flitter through my memory
at scents, at songs, at places, at people.
It seems like everything is connected to you.
You marked the beginning of my new life.
The one where I could believe fully
that I was good-looking and smart.
The one before that was lonely.
Some days I still wish I could turn things back.
I say that all too often as if I had a choice.
I say that with everything I know
I wouldn't go home with you that night,
and we wouldn't spend the weekend,
or the next 3 months lying next to each other.
I say that I wouldn't have taken you back 3 times.
I say I shouldn't have let you break my heart
and even when I thought the tattered pieces
were once again whole, there are still cracks.
I've let everyone else in to try to fill them in.
But, they've only been a finger in a dam.
Why you? Why the hell was it you?
I've done everything I could to hate you.
I remember all the bad things you said,
the terror and the fear and the hurt
the midnight phone calls to friends
the crushing loneliness afterwards.
Maybe I'm just broken after all.
I mean, two trips to the hospital
and I'm still crazy, so maybe
it's not you, maybe you're the scapegoat.
Maybe I broke my own heart
and you were kind enough to be the stone
I beat myself against.

The Sky Above a Utah County Labour Day

It was a cliche azure.

Not as cold as a jewel,

something inviting like

being more then half alive.

Above the not-quite-fall-post-apocalypse

I could only see it,

the Sun at the right angle

pressing on the atoms

that make up the sky

above that valley.

Peace of Mind

The silence of Peace of Mind.
Wholely beautiful like
your face, your touch, the sum
of your whole greater than
its parts, a full ocean.
A full turn, and the sun
is the duller light outside
compared to your smile.