meditations on first philosophy
July 4, 2013

(in which the existence of God and the immortality of the soul are demonstrated)

“I will therefore make a serious and unimpeded effort to destroy generally all my former opinions.”
– Descartes, First Meditation: Concerning Things That Can Be Doubted


I’m setting out 
to disprove God.
Who am I? 
A trick of the light.
Look too hard, 
and I’m gone.



seven haikus for seventh week
October 26, 2011

It is seventh week.
I am afraid of the end;
it approaches fast.

Anarchism is
radical autonomy.
Can we live that way?

God is just ourselves
held apart from who we are.
Let’s take ourselves back.

I #occupy this
space surrounding my body.
I am a protest.

Disposable cups
are filling up my mind with
caffeine.  I can’t sleep.

My dreams are screenings –
films filled with chases, sex scenes.
Nighttimes are lucid.

Here between the lines
is a cozy place to be.

Love is a Humanism
October 11, 2011

Hide and Seek

Who knows why God won’t let me in
on my own secrets?
What is this world-space-time?
What are all these blue mondays?
What are all these green-grey afternoons?
Who is this being I have felt?
She is without apologies.
She is smiling with her straight teeth.
She is running through red lights.
She is smelling of hand soap.
She is kissing my mouth.
What is this wonder she has left
in my pocket, under my finger nails?
What is this word she is letting slip
past her taut vocal chords,
past her loose lips?
What are all these rose-colored mornings?
What are all these dancing dawn lights
and brightly cosmic whisperings?
God wants his secrets back,
but she is hiding them in me.
They are warm and sweet-tasting.
I hope he does not think to look
here, in my body, for the stars
and the smell of magnolias
blossoming in the spring.

say the bells
October 10, 2011

this is a place of sacredness.
this is a place that will
estrange you from yourself.
your heart will be some alien moon
that you visit to trample with footprints.
your heart will be some quiet room
in someone else’s house.
this is a place that will
turn you on yourself.
this is a place that will
make you love something
that you will never meet.
you will pass it like a
stranger on the street
and not know it for what it is.
connect to this unknowing.
connect to this loveliness.
it is a sprint towards a brick wall.
it is a leap into deep water.
don’t think twice.
this is the end you are looking for.
this is the end you did not know you wanted.
this is the embracing of every
sigh you have let go.
this is the moment of silence
before the offering.

Parts of me are made of words…
October 7, 2011

Parts of me are broken records.
Parts of me are thunderous applause.
Parts of me are empty coffee cups.
Parts of me spill into other parts of me.
I have velvet seat cushions on bathroom floors.
I have dirt splatters on cathedral ceilings.

Parts of me are unknown to me.
Parts of me live within commuting distance.
Parts of me live ten years behind.
Parts of me are gone before I get home.
I have hallways of locked doors in me.
I have keys to locks I do not want to open.
I have boxes of novels in languages I do not speak.

I am my own God.
I am my own Father.
I am my own Lover.
I am my own Friend.
These parts of me are all switching roles.
These parts of me are confused about the nature of me.
These parts of me do not know how to interact at parties.
These parts of me get drunk and disappear.

Parts of me are winter parkas.
Parts of me are dead white men.
Parts of me are twin mattresses.
Parts of me are sugar substitutes.
I have a house full of things in me.
I have a garage full of junk in me.
I have fake plastic Christmas trees in me.

This is a yard sale.
Take what you can carry.
There is no return policy.

free verse
May 31, 2011

Living is for this

I have emptied myself too perfectly
of every last childhood reminiscing to be alive,
and as each raindrop falls onto my tin roof,
I am drifting further out to sea
on the puddles welling up in my front lawn
and on the water filling the potholes of my long driveway,
and soon the grass will be completely underwater
and I will walk barefoot through the mud
and let earth push itself between my toes
so that I can feel how the earthworms live.
I have emptied my self of my humanity,
and I don’t want it back because
as I was dreaming while lightning broke the night sky open,
the devil came to me in my sleep
and told me that he tried to cry out
and leave every trace of horror behind
and live in paradise and destroy himself
and care for nothing but the patterns of monarch butterfly wings
but life held him back because what are we
without something to struggle against?
But I am done with suffering.
I have turned in my ticket to the afterlife,
and I have renounced all my humanity
that was tied up in every moral wishing for better
because I am done struggling
against every unseen evil that lies nascent
in the sharp stones of my driveway –
the evils that lie waiting underneath
the tongues of the eight-year-olds
who have known too much for their age
and will let it all loose
when the adults have left to commit their own sins,
but I have emptied myself of the concept of sin.
I give up my guilt.
Guilt is for nothing.
Guilt is for making us feel like we cannot be human,
and so I have given up on being human.
Let me be an animal without words.
Let me live with my toes in the mud.
But oh my God,
how I love to sing.

free verse
April 2, 2011


When the tabletop stares back at you
and the lamp lights nothing but empty air,
when all the alcoves are dark
and filled with dust and quiet
and the window is open
but the curtains are not stirring,
then you will know that your life
is standing still,
and you will find that you cannot lift your eyes
from the book lying open on the table
and the word you have been reading
for a day and a lifetime.
But if god is smiling on our little corner of the universe,
you will hear the phone ring in the kitchen,
and you will answer it
and forget the word typed in black ink
and the tabletop and the spiders in their dark haunts.
You will wash your hands
with dish soap in the kitchen sink
and remember that you let the dog out
one hundred years ago
and that it is getting dark.