Got a little older, got a little colder;

There goes that easy enthusiasm.

It never spilled–it seeped out slowly:

One day I realized I was lying on the floor,

With no idea what to do next,



Mad monsters made you meaner

Than you ever imagined you being.

You realized you don’t smile at strangers

Anymore–no energy.

You used to wonder what was wrong

With everyone.


There’s some audible hollowness

When you tap on these chests

When you’re looking for sturdiness, anywhere.

The drywall is thin

And scuffed up, and holey,



Hard-hearted or broken-hearted:

In a cracked and shattering place like this one,

That’s all there is.


In honor of the victims at UCSB and those we lost at UCSD last week.

Three dead here, seven dead there:

Imprints left behind, and they will flatten out again with time.

A little bit of aching in our chests,

A little bit of staleness in our jokes,

A little bit of silence in our pauses,

A little sense of deadness in the day;

A whiff of death is in the air for us who only see the imprints.

The stench of loss is in it all for those who already had indents

From those lives.


Three dead here, seven dead there:

Invisible-ized and silenced by rushing metal made by robots,

Made by hands, made by minds:

Some bullets and some automobiles.

We think in circles so we live in circles so we fashion circles

Just to die by circles.

I want just one straight line, just one clear thought

Not distorted by my violence, unreduced to senselessness.

The heaviness wants to turn me inward on myself until I’m a circle too.


Three dead here, seven dead there:

If it happened to them it will happen to us.

We will leave some imprints behind that will flatten out behind us

And a gentle breeze of death in our wake as we depart.

Jesus, Jesus, how’d you do it?

How’d you leave such a sweet fragrance?

Jesus, Jesus, supreme victim of our violence

And our gaping self-entitlement,

Raise our imprints from out of the ground,

Holding us by both your hands and dancing us around.

Think About Me

For Kenia & Maria

Think about me, at night, when you’re the last one awake

And all the loves you take for granted are sleeping within arm’s reach.

Imagine me, behind your eyes, as you hold what you want most,

And greet the ghost of me in your dream world like a familiar friend.

Pray for me, as you thank God for the ones who need you

And for the one who freed you from your loneliness and searching.


I think about you.

Your life brushed up against me and encircled me and I was a child in its arms.

The hug ended

And I kept reaching

For something bigger than your little life of kindness and love to envelop me.

Like a crumbling tower I collapsed into the everlasting arms of eternity.


Remember me as the one with the awkward embrace

And the metallic face, rusted over from too much time in the rain.

Come to me with your greatness, with your service, in the morning

After a night of yearning and we will eat as one to end the hunger.

Think about me, at night, when you’re the last one awake,

And you recall the ache you felt in me when we brushed together.