8.4.22

FOOL.S.GOLD
I want to tell my friend

be brave

to grip the sum of her parts
from the debris in her headspace
sandbags over her cheekbones
plywood on her sternum keeps
her eyes from watching the crumble of the rubble in the tremble of her hands

I want to tell her
to shake off the shackles
before the Earthquake claims her foundation

as it has so many others
as it almost did me

sometimes the bravest thing to do
is to run

FOOL.S.GOLD

3.9.20
“I get the hard stuff, and someone else gets the fun stuff.”

If you only knew my body, you’d kick yourself for exalting demons you cannot slay.

Not that it matters. Red’s the whore’s color, and that sentence skinned me Rosemary West.

Still

I refuse to think of love as a form of self destruction, instead I choose to love parts of myself when they loose someone else. Right now, a portion of the world carries a broken heart, another is dreaming of being put together again. Me? I choose to beat for them all. To show that kindness and empathy don’t need an excuse to be exceedingly generous.

Deep down I know my past, in contrast to my present, is just as big a lie as it is the truth of parts no longer mine. There’s no such thing as a world too hard for softness.

FOOL.S.GOLD

2.6.21
spit my name from your woes, I don’t need another martyr.

I split bread with memory daily, we choose which oils will moisten the gluten in our past.

You ask me to balance a life you’ve forgotten to weigh against another. Pushing expectation against the grit of my own battles.

Even still I send medics to self-inflicted injuries. Watch them turn first aid kidts inwards after marching back home from out of policy cancellations.

Instead of seeing car rentals, you navigate your map to resentment and indignation.

Go then, go punch the ocean in the wave while I soothe the injuries you bristle at. My job applications, car rentals, and familiar moralities. I hope the fist you drive through the water finds more substance than the ones you drove through your spleen.

12.26.20

FOOL.S.GOLD
the average head weighs 11 pounds.
that’s already enough weight to carry on your shoulders;
surely you must know; it’s okay to
put the other weight down
the world can balance itself without you, I promise

I know this, because I’ve tasted the fruits of your garden
the one you tilled on ground
everyone called barren

you will always be the stubborn piece in her puzzle
and I hope you know
while she sees you missing
I know you’re present unwrapped from the confines of their shame
the piece that doesn’t fit
because it refused to mold
into well formed generational trauma

rejoice every time you re-shape your human
most people only live one life.

imagine that;
using Christmas as a coping mechanism,
wearing holiday sweaters like suits of armor — those who walk the straight line, because they know a round earth will guide them back home; will live a dry and tired plot-line with little to no character development.

Now
Go ahead.
Come at me with those eyes you thought were too much.
Swallow me whole.

FOOL.S.GOLD

10.11.20
We are as much our Dragons as we are our own Towers and Princesses.
On this particular day, I am the whore of Babylon sticking fingers in pussy pies. Imperia Cognati crushing pomegranate seeds against the roof of my mouth. That POP of juice, that squirt coating your tongue with sweetness. Or is it sourness? I couldn’t tell. I was busy screaming “FUCK THE POLICE!” while some white boy fucked me against a cop car.

And what a handsome specimen of protest.

FOOL.S.GOLD

9.21.20 (night)
“the universe is playing with us.”

don’t rest on your Laura-els just yet
all universe is magic,
and magic things are fond of deceptions
tonight im a weasel running errands for the moon.

this coincidence gravity,
this magnetic serendipity of chance is less “cross go”
and more; strap-in, you’re building callouses

you reflected back the loneliest parts of me
the “other world” parts, the ones with Gabriel Garcia, y Pandebono.
it’s been so long since I see the Andes smiling back at me
I just wanted to shake hands with our shadow puppets
no strings attached

FOOL.S.GOLD

8.21.20
we’re in a desert here
a desert in drought no less
now is not the time to highbrow your nose at the glass half air
that type of attitude doesn’t hold water
or whiskey

they mistake my water for fire
and yes i wanted heat
hot salacious sizzling smokiness panting warm breaths and exhalations
but i wont pass up a watered down experience
hydrating, some say
a lukewarm pool – so shallow and warm it can
melt the ice cubes in the dog bowl of desire
water being the ace of elements
diving from the clouds without a parachute, wings or safety net
running over the steepest precipice, and blinking not a lash.
being buried, and rising again
water walks on fire
and fire gets the blisters.

what was i talking about?
a yes, deserts and droughts
fine whiskey, cheap soda and beer
smiling back when
gap toothed zippers show their molars
suburbia
driving ourselves into a climax cul-de-sac
would you please stop switching gears?
give me crescendo rev give me smooth and constant
that sweet combination of pressure and
oily slick, vibrating frequencies intooo o O…
.
.
oh yeah, as i was saying,
the drought..

FOOL.S.GOLD

8.19.20
enter sex stage right
sauntering into the picture in a silk robe
maybe a nude platter of figs and fine cheeses.
would it, on a feat of petulance enter stage left, perhaps? Does it knock first, or does it slide in slyly, too quick and slippery to be denied; or, would sex barge in forcibly, red-faced and green-berated, pushing all other things aside.

that almsot rain
tapping morse code messages against your window
“you can stay here a little longer” it says, “there’s more where that came from.”
but it’s 10 o’clock, as if ten o’clock were the name of some fatal diagnosis
and sex leaves when hearts start racing

FOOL.S.GOLD

5.21.20
when i say im willing to fall i mean
falling, not downward
but outward
for an organism steeped in pleasure is an organism
disposed to continue

for the time being i am
content as crop to the natural world
growing indeed
towards my natural impulses

what you call brittleness I call plasticity