there is a search
there is a nothing
there is a protector
for me
there is  nurturing out in the world
sometimes it’s hiding underneath the darkest of rocks
the most scary and wet of places
perhaps places no one wants to go
your search continues
amongst the bodies and the wreckage
we are drawn to each other like no other
like bloody magnets with the [...]

rest assured there’s a box for you
waiting always
or another category for you to try on
perhaps something that might not fit,
a path that does not work,
or only leads you so far before you
start to see its sad disappearance
into the horizon
these markers are again, inevitably, not enough
chalklines on the pavement outlining where the corpus was (it too, [...]

waterlines on houses stained where water had risen trapping and drowning people inside their homes where people died spray painted x’s like graffiti on people’s homes marking where people still might be able to recover bodies or animals perhaps still living perhaps not dead animals in [...]

Some people may carry around images of their family.  Other people may wear crosses or get tattoos.  I have this:

This is an image that I have had in my head and heart for a long time.  It’s like a personal icon and for me and represents what I would like to see in the world.  [...]

This is one of my favorite lyrics for a song.  It’s Bright Eyes: “At the Bottom of Everything”
“So there was this woman and she was on an airplane, and she was flying to meet her fiancé seaming high above the largest ocean on planet earth. She was seated next to this man she had tried [...]

no systems
no heroes
no customs
no war
no difference
no meaning
no structure
no planning
no map
no power
no walls
there is an infinitexisting (v.)
beneath, within, throughout
but do not speak.
for we
are the fragile vessels
the hope and future,
of those coming after us

People smoking in a park - lighthouse for consuming illegal substances
Boys talking
A chiild banging on a drum
Loud cars going by
Kids drikning alcohol in the park
A Chinese woman speaking French outside an ice cream parlour.
Verde.
Snakes.
Tejano.
Nice shoes - (they remind me of a nurses).
Elbo room.
That kid I saw in the MUNI station.
Now.
Disappearing.
Into the Mission.

I wrote this poem while working at home for people with developmental disabilities. It was probably one of the more strenuous and sullen jobs/times of my life.

******
The Lighthouse Keeper
a boy who swallows glass and can’t speak so he makes painfully beautiful music to express what he longs to say
a man who was once a brilliant [...]