I read it in the newspaper; your obituary.

I read how you fought "valiantly".

They said some things about you in the column.

You're quite the person. Beautiful and gold leafed.

Part kid, 

Part Goddess, 

Part crude oil; 

pumped up from the ground by grasshopper pumpjacks on an open plain.

Your mother was green and she gardens.

Your father is blue, like his collar.

He labors in a refinery at work and at home.

He's always sweaty.

To whom it will concern

Dear Ordinary:

I'm writing a letter to you so that you will stop whatever it is you're doing and realize where you are. I'm writing this letter to you to interrupt the busy life you pretend to live, and to make you look down at paper, instead of you feet for once. I'm writing this letter to you to maybe put into perspective some things. I'm writing this letter to you so you will stop talking and listen to the opening act, shut up and look at the opening band that is trying so hard to make it. I'm writing this letter to you to help bring you back to reality, because I know how you haven't been feeling real lately, and I know how hard that is. You knelt in the sand and asked God to make you real, well hopefully getting a real life letter will make you feel a little like real life.

Things are very limbo right now, and that's OK for now. You're comfortable, and you're early-stale, like when bread starts to get hard crust, but it's still tasty to eat as long as mom makes it. You will start to stink very soon, and I don't want that for you because it's already hard for you to talk to girls. I don't want to make it impossible by making girls not want to talk back. You don't want that do you? Let's now prolong the losing streak. I don't want 6 months to turn into a year, and then into years. That sounds like a nightmare.

Speaking of; Let's talk about those nightmares. Yeah, I know about them. You talk in your sleep. It's OK, don't feel bad. They're just dreams but not the kind you want to follow. Everyone here is following their nightmares these days, when you come back you need to be ready.

Ordinary, you're growing up fast, and you're losing a lot of things. Brain things. That's normal. Stay quiet for the opening act. Watch it. Let them prime you for the main event, let them give you a taste of whats to come, they're very different genres, yes, but you'll love both of them. For now just shut up and listen to the music, watch the guitar player move his mouth weird.

Ordinary, remember who you love, and don't let them go.

Ordinary, you seriously need to start letting people in, and let them stay in your life. But that also means you need to let me in. I'm the most important person in your ordinary life.

I love you ordinary, you'll learn to love me too.

Love,
also ordinary

I don't know why my pictures aren't showing up. Sorry. I can't figure it out.

In The Gorge

The Dishes, who's master grew tired.

Unkempt the bed, wrinkled, feathered.

Pubescent chin hairs quietly long, and transparent, 

like the shabby breathing of solitude. 

The longing is palpable. 

In the gorge; the arthritic ticking 

of a crass, golden-stitched human heart

scorches the cells with life-bread.

In the gorge, dreams strike the tallest trees.

Faint are the whisperings, 

long are the echoings.

In the gorge, blood pumps.

In the gorge, run wildebeest.