Archive for May, 2009

First days of summer
First Nations people
long-lived and dark
but only across generations

Sweat comes like rain from the sky
covering us in long sheets of wet salt
not caring if you smile or frown
little brother

A window ledge smokes a cigarette
outside a deli on 110th and Hell
and I lie, running, screaming in a blaze of sanity
across the screen because we don’t use pages anymore

We all die, little brother
but some of us more frequently than others
like the Burning Man’s cock
which emerged from the fire unscathed

I still love ya, kid