The Minute Details

It’s impossible to reinvent myself.
I try almost every night,
but everything’s been done before.
The only way to remain original, I suppose,
is to speak about the minute details with honesty.

“ The stars awaken a certain reverence, because though always present, they are inaccessible; but all natural objects make a kindred impression, when the mind is open to their influence. ”

—    Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Nature, Chapter 1”  

"my eyes see blue and grey 

so much i don’t see. “

original track, native american flute featured. 

the jungle

some nights,
i do this walk
through an urban jungle

up the hills
past the lights
toward the 4-lane street

there’s no escape,
the asphalt

i imagine
trodden dirt paths
and the
peeling paper bark of birch trees

there are no blazes
here
in the urban jungle

only fluorescence
and
titty bars

brown liquor and romance

without solitude,

i lose
direction
and
focus.
and miss guitar
and
brown liquors.

so, i never thought
it true that
opposites attract.

thought only to
revel the same
pleasures—
pleasures that happen
to make us both
free.

if not, i’d rather be alone
forever
than wake up
next to my opposite
in good
love.

i wanted

to write a poem
of profound thought,
of illuminating introspection

where you would
learn a bit more
of me
with each
line

yet my words
would not be
unique to my
experience

and so you would
learn a bit more
about yourself, too,
with each
line.

but i have no experience—
no depth.
no nothing
of profound thought and
illuminating introspection.

so, i write.

(in)significance

Have you ever
wondered about
your significance?

I don’t mean in 
life,
in work,
in school.

I mean

in the 
universe.
because
we are all so
insignificant.

Our existence—
but a microscopic
speck in the 
universe’s gargantuan
trajectory.

Our existence
(your life)
has no
impact on
the universe’s 
path.

Let’s not
dwell on this fact
for too long
lest we become
nihilists.

Indeed, how could we
abandon
our lives
our jobs
our bills
our pursuits

even though they are
meaningless?

The secret,
I’m quite sure,
is to
surround yourself with
the natural wonders 
of this earth—
creations that, 
like the universe,
dwarf for your significance.

Immerse yourself
among nature
and you’ll discover
your infinitesimal existence

And soon—
held by
the universe’s 
significant beauty—
you’ll realize that
you never
existed separately
from this earth
in the first place.

at my desk

the lavender on my desk
has withered and died
and crumbles to my touch,
but it smells more fragrant than ever.

so i don’t think
it’s like you said, Frost.
some things gold can
stay forever.

reading my poem, Begin, over a Gustavo Santaolalla song, “As it Chud Be” 

nobody knows

each time
i’ve fallen
in love
i thought
it would
cure
my
aloneness.

each time
it didn’t

and
it
left
me
worse
than the
time
before.

still, i
feel
as
grateful
as if
it had,
indeed,
cured me.

yet
that doesn’t
change the
fact
that
now
i
pull down
the shades,
turn off
the lights,
get into
bed,
and stare
blankly
into the
darkness,
a madman
once again.

once more into the cold

almost been a year now,
my love for you has grown,
and all these shitty poems are
all I have left to show.

one day closer to death

I lie awake in bed
and hear the
second hands from
my wrist watches
ticking as loud as a
the sirens outside my window. 

the accumulation—
seconds turn to
minutes
turn to hours
turn to days
turn to weeks
turn to years
turn to life
turn to
death.

then what?
god damn, we know so little.