The Monday Before The End

On the Monday before the End,
the air in Cleveland was thick and muggy and
Children walked down the street in shorts and t-shirts and
adults toiled away at this job or another.

On the Monday before the End,
A factory worker in Mississauga noticed his hairline was receding and
a mother cried after her son let slip “bitch”;
she thought of ways to punish him after.

On the Monday before the End,
I thought about you and hoped you were doing alright,
but resolved not to reach out, not to
let you back in, because
I didn’t know it was the Monday before the End,
None of us did,
None of us ever know.


I believe in some kind of a heaven, I
believe in a place we all go,
and see each other as we truly are,
sparks freed from fleshy magneto.
I believe in some kind of a heaven, where
the people I hate and the people I hurt
will be, freed from earthly impulses,
free from want, from lust, from need,
and we will examine the scars we left behind,
the scars we gave eachother,
like chess-players reviewing a match,
and we will say
“You really did your best,
You fought for yourself in the ways you knew
and I can’t hold these terrors against you,
I can’t.”

Human Coral

If you take a man and view him birth to death across his life
he is coral, human coral, a live thing tipping a dead thing,
a history of dead things, and two live hands grasping for meaning
and with every moment another corpse left behind,
with every moment a fresh life, moving onward

To Live

To live for now,
To live, for now
To live for now like a cockroach
To live in the refuse, to live in the muck,
To burrow, to creep, to live, for now,
To live instinctually,
To live,
For now it is sweet and easy to live.