Out Standing In His Field

I could walk along with science,
Or love my time in silence,
Or learn we’re all the same.
My debates would be feisty
And my aims won’t be sheisty
If I only used my brain!

If I only used my brain!


I gotta find some other place to be,
because where I am is leaving me worthless.
What I do is leaving me empty.
Who I’m with is leaving me alone.

To Do Is To Be

Constant existential nagging.
Feeling it pretty bad lately.
The stable half that pushes for self-sufficiency
Is in a lockstep battle with
The unstable half that pushes for self-agency.

I don’t think I’ll ever be fully settled in my life,
One of those lives lived in
A permanent state of temporality.

I think it’s a side effect of moving a lot while growing up,
Never having much time to put down roots
And grow from that.
Ever since moving to Austin,
I’ve always felt itinerant,
Like I’m always two paychecks from disaster
And will have to move out in an emergency.
That’s certainly not the case anymore,
But nothing really feels like it lasts forever.

Some things, I’m grateful that they don’t last forever.

What doesn’t last forever is
My youth and agency.
I need to punch Eject and go wander.
The wanderlust is strong.
But I don’t need to,
I want to,
I desire to.

But then what?
Do I return back home,
Return to zero,
Lose concrete resources
And gain ephemeral experiences?
Lose personal capital and
Gain a camera roll?

I don’t think Nietzsche and Sartre ever had a proper answer.
Did they?

Emetic Diuretic

touching every nerve on repeat
ad infinitum, ad nauseum, ad vertisium
straw men on infinite scroll
binge and purge, singe and durge
the anger, the righteousness, the fearmongering
the masturbation
we can’t see it
i can’t believe it
constant waves crashing over my head
taking on water, swallowing it all down
not wanting to drown
salt, tears, gurgling for a lifeguard
but the guards are all fired
this libertarian beachhead
has got me counting
one two three
drifting out to sea

Windcatcher and Sad Echo

8/6/96 10:30pm

ah, god
I feel like I’m pushing against the air
empty hands, hollow, and holding back the wind
just slips through and blows past me,
leaving me behind.
trying too hard
trying to run so fast, I thought I was the breeze itself
hoping at least to maybe feel the wind’s resistance
hoping it would burn and keep me warm
heat upon my skin, looking to warm my bones
and that maybe I can catch her, the summer breeze
but she eludes me. I jump at the shortest draft
slips by and curls away
no heat, no warmth, no company
just running away from me to hollow —
whistle comes from my chest,
just blows right through,
through this — cavern
full of air, but hollow, like a ghost
I can hear her spooks and groans
not like an abandoned house
where the breeze blows the shutters closed, then opened
then closed again
but like a canyon
where she blows all the time
just flows and shrieks
and keeps dust in my eyes
I speak out to her, I try
I urge for the run
but she only carries echoes back to me
echoes of me
of me (of me)
more hollow I become.
empty hands, hollow, and holding back the wind
but she just slips through and blows on by,
leaving me behind
so, now, I feel like I’m pushing against the air.