i am turned, i am
tumbled, i am stretched,

among these long lights, these long waves,

these endless paths, with people pursuing,

frozen in the oceanic
the time of not-to-end
permeating the surface
such stillness, it is endless


spatially and temporarily

limited piece of the



cat delapena
listen to the laughter –– sweet like syrup slightly off kilter –– listen to the noise that rots your
brain, it’s good for the soul –– listening is to understand understand the vibrations
as they fold over and under and in between –– listen as they shift into sound, sound meaning vibrations
and vibrations meaning waves which my brain will pick apart until it decides if it likes it or maybe not,
listen –– because i might miss it –– miss the creeping of cars up the Dan Ryan and the sniffing of the man
on State who loves cocaine more than his life –– listen hard as traffic turns to silence and lake turns to ocean
listen as familiar turns to foreign –– i hear love but the loveless kind all middle and no edges, i hear snores
the soft kind two doors down, i hear silence but the loud kind –– twisting into itself until all i hear is static.
then i’m left wondering if i missed it all, and then i know for sure i missed something because when am i
ever listening to anything –– my mom says never, i say selective hearing–– ears too big 99 sounds all at
once until all i hear is static as your voice fades 1800 miles away.
frozen in the oceanic
ex-sistence (hyphenated), the ecstatic

i saw the blue above me as if it were a sky
unfamiliar, unbounded

(feminine melancholia)

formless and forever in motion
precisely fleeting
these tattooed lines

of connection between celestial bodies

a new consciousness
––as opposed to an unconscious or conceptual state––


they spill
and under
and in between
haptically done
undone and remade by each other
(cyclical nature of being)
meaning, tobe

working with the w a v e s the oceans
that move through me
waiting for it all to


its breaking waves the sound of breath

rushed out and sucked back in
rushed out and sucked back in

as i inhale, i wake up alive
self (unsingular)
mamiwata on speed dial
crucifixed on god
this dreamed up

cooter queen with that
syncopation shit
lurid and loved up
loveless and drugged up

strawberry tongue this looty opium of intense
fascination perpetuated by a sense of longing
and somber reality
i see the summer palace washed indigo
opulence in which
these ruptures
change me––
this half of me
socked feet gliding
against tiled floor faster and
faster and faster
until your
stomach hurts
from giggling blink
and you’ll miss
it now everything
is blue
Start (Home Page)
scrambled eggs on a precipice –– these
morning meds make my brain kinda
soggy –– rashes on elbows –– nose
dripping –– like my kitchen faucet ––
distilled thoughts forgotten in my ––
jean pocket –– cyclical nature of socks
–– and loose change –– waiting with
transparency in these lonely two minutes
516 La Purissima Way
an orange tree in Sacramento, CA
looking upwards
so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past
dear one
the sea smells of nostalgia
to which i’m starlessly
unreachably faithful

those ulcers in my gut are only windows
folding time
to electrify
call back an escape line

in a window keeps the fire burning
these electric dreams
where twosouls meet
we’re bleached and bloated
moment to moment

on the blanket with purple violets
they gag and live
for straight up vodka talk with sugar cane mojitos
with youth and long angular limbs
loose kisses attached to giddy promises
running on idle

this window of unchanging you
notice the moment as here

alan and freddie
jenner - by - the -sea, CA
dry knuckles and an empty stomach ––
here i am again –– unchanging and
illuminated in this moment –– cheek pressed
against cold tiles of the bathroom floor ––
the decay of yesterday and today and
tomorrow –– left wondering where the
time has gone –– and how much i’ve
missed –– and how i can fix everything
high but only a little –– humming brain slows
to the rhythm of the blood in my throat ––
fleeting moments turn blue –– living but dead ––
look at this silly little life –– going back and
doing it all over again –– spinning until
i’m nauseous –– until i’m tasting pennies
on my tongue –– spinning until i’m
breathless and all i hear is sickly static
frozen in the oceanic