Yes, yes I do.
Ain’t it sad? Sad but true.
So what we gonna,
what we gonna do?

© paz

shit in water

An uncanny grace surrounds her.
her saturated eyes pierce
pregnant with what is silenced.

How many lives has she lived?


2012 © paz


September 17, 2012

Standing at attention
waiting for his order.


Haven’t been inspired with the poetic muse lately. But I woke up with this one in my head and had to jot it down. I think it was inspired by Kyle Mew.


August 4, 2012

Something in me shed like snake-skin
Mole-eyed and chilled,
I crawled out of the damp earth.

© paz


Another one from my little notebook.


July 19, 2012

Primal limbic fire.
Impenetrable desire
carrying cravings of caressing
loins align the spine
connecting red
rushing flows
from head to heart
to toes.

© paz

Lost Ant II

June 22, 2012

Lost Ant II (c) paz

Click the photo to enlarge.


Lost Ant

June 21, 2012

Lost Ant (c) 2012 paz

Click the photo to enlarge and read the poem, unless you have amazing, super-zoom eyesight.


I wrote a quick and silly small-stone poem today.

The photos are from several weeks ago when our spring “bug invasion” was ending. It hasn’t completely ended, neither has this card-making. My dad’s having me do two alternate versions (according to his taste). I’ll appease him.


An astonishing thing happened today, he said, “You and your mother have changed so much. You are a different person!” He meant it in a good way. But then he added, “It’s a good thing God gave me patience [insert: to deal with you]… It’s a good thing I haven’t had to change much.”

What’s that supposed to mean? My dad is funny, and I mean this in… I don’t know how I mean it.

“We can all improve and change,” I said.

I know I’ve been a difficult person most of my life. But was I that terrible before? And how am I now? It’s funny, even when I get complimented by him, I don’t feel validated. I feel so small, so easily confused –lost and desolate like the ant. I can’t show him how much I’m hurting, how much I feel like I’m about to drown.

I’m left baffled.


June 16, 2012

a silent man adjusts
torn ribbons
rolling on and on

like the battery rabbit
with his drum–

light flickers.
wings on fingers,
promenading hooves.

life blood in black and white.
all thought pouring
into a screen–

distorted filters.
a silent film, flashes
of a life unknown.

© paz