Internal Pocket

I was Johnny Cash and I had two sons. They looked just like me and their mom combined. Later, I was having spaghetti dinner at the restaurant and saw my boys’ mother through a window. I said we had to leave. One of my boys mentioned their mother discouraged wasting food – said it was bad for the planet. I agreed and did not say anything about veganism.

The Spanish restaurant had this special green sauce that tasted deep, herby, and salty. I saw the guy from the party. Buff arms, tribal tattoos, and the same demeanor as the un-sober guy from Whole Foods. We hugged tightly on an office chair. It was a sweet embrace and I wanted him to leave.

In this open room I discovered my white button down had an internal pocket. This would be good for carrying my passport in summer, without a jacket. I filled the pocket with too many things.


In my dream this morning I got an email saying to bid soon on a dehydrator. The price had gone from $80 to $153.

Now  it’s afternoon, I am at a coffee shop between at-risk youth and incarcerated-youth art-classes. The averagly-cute barrista didn’t charge me the obligatory almond milk fee AND gave me a discount. I figured this into the tip.

I checked email on my cracked phone. The dehydrator I’m watching is ending soon and the current price is $153.

I had several dreams Trippens arrived at work. Last time I asked if this was real or not and was told we won’t get another shipment until spring, but a reorder of Trippen had just arrived. All this practicing to be psychic has paid off. My subconscious can predict that probable things will happen and then they do.

Lately I have been thinking: “What the fuck am I doing, I am such a shit-head.” And “No one else in the world knows what they are doing either.”

Maybe some people do. What really matters is that we’re all killing this planet and each other together. :)


I’ve been stomach in-love. Sleep-deprived. I am a big grassy man. Maybe it’s the placebos I bought from the witch doctor.

I embroidered the ancestral Coyote 101.5 motif, given to me in t shirt form from late-great-uncle Paul, onto my premium-preemie-primo’s newborn quilt square while working the “Your General Store” piece at SITE, and looking smart and hot in my sunglasses. I thought: “It is okay to die.”

Walking as a part of the overexposed afternoon I thought about sex. A woman with blue eye shadow told me about the sales at the consignment store. I didn’t find any tapered slacks.

Floating in the next store-zone, a supremely cute individual smiled at me and I did a double take – wording I only use because I was at Double Take. I walked around the block and texted Bea about potential pick up lines. She offered: “I was thinking of leaving a missed connection for you but figured it might be more productive to talk to you first.”

The attractive tall and skinny person had long dark hair. I thought about how Hoku was tall and skinny and had long dark hair once. Probably I will fall deeply in love with this stranger or else not see them again.

I ran into a woman at the next consignment store without slim high waisted tapered slacks. She looked at me lovingly and with sad eyes. I said: “Where do I know you from?” She said she was Hoku’s friend. I said I was just thinking about Hoku. We talked about Hoku’s style.

A few days ago I was thinking about how Hoku would like some thing and then I thought: “how would I know?” I don’t want to project things onto dead people, but there’s no other option.

Guess I’ll just continue to project everything onto everything because perception is reality and also holographic.

Pueblo Revival

The man who provided drugs and then made everyone pancakes at the last cabin rave shot himself at the cross of the martyrs recently. Whenever I drive down Paseo de Peralta from work I think about that, and about how downtown in general is loaded with sorrow and nostalgia.

Downtown Santa Fe is also full of Pueblo Revival Architecture: racist originally and racist in replication. I have no place to talk about this racism, considering the ways in which I belong to this landscape, built or otherwise.

I walk around my hometown, where I have sweet jobs, friends and memories, thinking about how I don’t belong here and don’t want to live here.


I am a greasy man
with sunflower armpits
big sun goes down on everyone

We are all at this post-dark party

every text a rejection
post-post persuasion
standing in line for a toilet
blue fairy lights
I am the worst and I mean it.

I want all the boys to be drodgy and shy
I’m dodgy and sly
ill mannered

Always be the worst
Laziest sinner on the beach
on earth

I am too lazy to sin or think critically about sin as a socio-religious construction

I just want the free doughnuts

lol, jk,
I am only serious about not letting you down,
I am only serious about not letting you down.

I will never let you go.

I will live at your expense
I will not live up to my potential like it’s my job.