my skin is sensitive you know


my skin is sensitive you know

it remembers things that i don’t
and shows us the scars that i forgot
and i wonder how it finds the time
to hold the heat of the sun against my back
while smelling like a scent i’d long since lost
and raising the alarms when something
just ain’t right

i peeked inside the haunted cranium
and steven
he said there were pretty little
orange birds living inside it
i wish sometimes that i could just see the birds




do you imagine yourself to be more than you are
than what the sidewalk says when you fall
off that invisible curb for the hundredth time?
it’s easier to forget the heartbreak you
passed on or passed over
while sailing along on an inner tube
made of bubble water till
a finger touches the edge and it’s all there
all that grit is left in the bottom of the tub
after the water drains
and you can’t ignore anymore
all the places you’ve been
all the times you’ve sinned
so hold yourself up for wednesday’s rain cloud
and stop looking for answers here
because soon enough a shiny new sun
will light you again

a silly ramble


a crazy psychic on the corner of some piazza
told me that i extinguish fires with gasoline
and i couldn’t think of a more appropriate way
to describe my behavior.

so now the problem is not description,
but explanation.

well, he also said that i was murdered
several times in a few past lives here and there,
so maybe i’m just here to make the most of it
while my soul looks over my shoulder for me.

my judgment is coming, said the cards,
and the puffy bits by my index finger and thumb
say that i got the element of crazy,
and that i got intelligence but not wisdom,
and that i always pick the horse born for the rodeo,
and that my gut is always dead-on.

thank my lucky stars for my charm.



if it’s poetry in a skyline then line me up
for the next shot because people
will always look for the right language
to speak into my book
if i borrow a pen that writes
i will find my true love
in the ink on the page

unfinished business


you can run, but you can’t hide
’cause we live on the smallest planet in the world
share a birthday with my dad
and make me laugh
so that i will grin back halfway around the world
to egypt and back across the mediterranean
we got bought for five euros and a pikachu
but a belly full of pasta makes yummy girls smile, too
as long as we can make the statue of david
say the things we always wanted to hear

art history


eve was a thief
and jesus was a white guy
just ask those coupla texans
sittin next to me down at the uffizi
where it rains every time i go outside
overwhelmed by tour groups monopolizing
the paintings that revolutionized
the way we look at our bodies
pigeons flock in for leftovers
cannibalizing each other
and we only stare
thanking god
that we’re civilized humans