the blind

I used to shut my eyes and press them with my palms

My eyelids pulsed and I dropped my hands

I looked around

Purple and gold, blotchy

To pink, to white, to gray

I created this world that no one else could see

Every time was different

Except that no one else could see it

My brother told me

“You’re gonna go blind doing that,”

I dropped my palms and the colors faded

Every color went round, every circle vibrated

Every vibration trickled away to a slighter color

I didn’t want to see only blotches forever

So I never did it again



the rock

A pebble torpedoed my windshield

It made the longest crack ever

It seemed so deliberate, honestly

Little rocks live for this

Before they rub out into sand

They don’t die, really

They are always around

Explorers of the New World saw a big rock mountain

If it rolled on them, they would’ve died

And could it be the same boulder

Hiding behind those bushes I backed into

It put a dent in my bumper last year

He didn't even care

A living person would have

A living person would have said, “Awh man, that blows”

Not the boulder, he couldn’t fathom what he had done

He’s too hard to be disturbed

He’s too oblivious to comment

He’s a rock

He doesn’t experience culture

And will rub down to a pebble 

Hit an innocent windshield

In South Carolina, insurance will cover that

But not all places do

The thoughtless rock wins

Life doesn’t make sense

the prayer

My mom told me to lay down at night

And whisper to God

I only ever fantasized

And squinted at the street lamp outside

Squinting makes these tiny gold rings

Rings that float around each other

But they never touch

Just sneak on top of one another,

Then shift away

Every illumination yields to the other

Nothing is forced


the fisher

If God is a fisher

Satan’s a fisher too

He licks his lips and tastes salt

(If he even has lips, I don’t know)

Just two old guys with beards

Floating in a sticky fog

They don’t always agree

But they still shoot the shit together

And watch us flail around

Fish squirming on the hook

God is the main fisher

The main character in this thing

You might think that he’s the director

And that you’re the main character

But no, the fisher is the main character

I am as inconsequential as toothpaste

Or a peanut

Or lint

Or a fingernail


Point is, we don’t matter that much

We’re really very minuscule

We might not even be fish

Just particles in the water

Kind of beautiful

Glittery and slick

Until water rolls to dry sand

Particles are just nothing

Nothing, nothing, nothing

Not even matte or brown

Just gone

On God’s shore, dead fish