the writings of blake ellington larson

do not lose your tribe

focus on the moonlight

dead body in the shade of daylight

wood and shadow

empty black

and white’s

on the golf course

but I

saw him


your ship is not chaos

and the sea is not angry

its’ heavy

is not the language

of crisis

the somnambulist in me is an evil twin i will never know

not the gallant

nor the gallop

knows my true name

jump it

chase yr squadron

yr cauldron

drip yr shades

drop yr vowels

cover up friend

it’s getting warmer out

the sludge is electric

it cuts the chords

siphons the urge

kills the tempo

the door to my heart was left wide open

i meant to finish this poem, but

my third world hugs have nothing to do with candy

i am not alone

this is not an island

my your spirit be shiny and sith




my fury stares dim-witted dark tunnels, sometimes

to dare-stream is black circles i would were blank

forgive me, chorus

this is all new to me

i don’t eat horse

numbs my clatter

stuns the gums

my longdarknightofthesoul is not a short story

not anymore

she said

my tendrils are jasmines sleep me up at night

my skinny love is not the amulet sews you to me

i am plump now

your eyes remind me we’re in the middle of a hurricane

i send communion

i break before you break

i dip in

i suspend

i wait



i write the word sadness on my face when i go to sleep

in the morning, when the sun comes up

i play records remind me of cactusland

it’s so dark in my room, i have to turn up the volume

i take a shower and i brush my teeth

i feed my cat and i drive to work

in my rearview, i see nothing

my stories aren’t bent

they’re not folded, kept or birthed

my stories do not sit on cliffs of clay

they do not tell stories

i am quiet

i make like a cloud

in my mind

and then

i forget i’m a cloud

i lit a match when i was on fire

i was fifteen years old

i get hungry when i look at the water with you

my dinosaurs are poems i never turn into the songs i don’t sing anymore

amazes me the face i put to flame when

your aura was so staring at me

like, for the entire time i sang small for you

oh man, my background noise though

and those blizzards


amazing we didn’t catch on fire

city broke my heart

used to stand on it naked

in my daydreams

with a flag

used to conquer it

all over little and littler pieces of

paper that i hand covered purple

my neon was electric

i was a dark dark dark cupid

someone is always talking in the background

when you sing to me

my echo don’t exist

don’t want it

i yearn


dear tundra

fuck you

i can get used to the cold

i can beat you

my skulls aren’t poised


fit the guillotines

like they used to

my spirit demons these days consist

more parts breathing

than silence

i have no secret owls

my love is crimson

it is dark

and it is heavy

and i’m

ok with it

your suicide is not the amulet

i don’t keep on an invisible necklace

around my throat

i am a cloud

i am a sleepy cloud

there’s parts of me everywhere

my soul consists two colors

i am invisible

like you

good song melt yr veins

show it to me

you are a candle

you are not gone






my future is horseback

i ride the whales

i look for comfort


my silence

is a bed of scrolls

i let cherish

leagues ago

my heart went on a walk without me

stuck in the ravines, i

grabbed thistle by the handful

so we could get through

like battleship

my boats are land locked

they sink anchor for no reason

so still the waters

i forget i’m at war

my friends are mirrors

and they are good mirrors

my sexy beard

lost in the fog

gets lost in the sun

your spoon reminds me i’m bleeding

all those rusted cherries

oozing out

i am invisible to water

my footsteps

get lost in the rain

when my heart disappeared

i thought it was just the wind

i was so excited for winter

i lit a match

i did it

i started a fire

it was a beautiful fire

i invited no one

i am galactic and full

a’nerved like a peacock

i shoot from the hip

i strike balance like an enemy

and you know me

i am glacial

and i am not glacial

and i am worried

you don’t see the feathers i have

i scrub the tar from the tar

and i do it hard

i stare at the sunflowers

and they stare back

i rake the lawn from the leaves

i demolish everything

my dark, yr dark

i get lost in the spirit

i love you like i punch glass

like, you haven’t seen me punch shit

like, you haven’t seen my fury

like thunder cats

like cancer

can’t get the watercolor out my veins

remind me

i am not a ghost

i am not a ghost

i am not a ghost

i live on a farm

i don’t live on a farm

you live on a farm

so, good for you

you and your farm

just keep it to yourself


it’s getting old

i got a tattoo of yr face on my arm

it reads:  vacancy

and yea

it flickers

me and my dying wands fight embers

and we sing

in tandem

out of view reminds nothing

out of the gravel reminds nothing

your spirit is nothing

i gravitate


to you

to you


there are footprints in the sand

near the

roses you
planted a year or so after
your tenure was
severed by
your trigger finger

and the wind chimes stay
still chilled against

blurred leaves – busy noise

and the rain washes
the mulch from the mulch

‘it is midnight somewhere’
you used to say

i draw the blinds

i shut the door shut tight

i smell cigarettes

burnt wine



there’s not enough time my friend

i’m telling you this because

i’ve seen the pavement

i’ve tasted its richness

i’ve cracked its hidden mystery

i’ve dined on its misanthropic demise

i’ve cured it’s sickness with mine

and i came crawling back


my heart is sand

and death is water

if i get too drunk

please pour salt

on my head


my new curse consists

half part lull – more part soul

a little part of me
wants revenge


on a soap box

just to say so


my wish box lazily drifts your name across

pointer fingers that

draw clouds

the color the sky makes

when you’re gone


paints christmas lights on

glasses that don’t

represent the blue

in the you

you are



i stand still


the leaves
i let leave
bony ribs

like some kind of
unoriginal sin
my throat is as lump
as cats sleep

i crawl to the mirror

my long stares
no new apologies

i am defeatist at best
and she points to where
i’m bleeding

my coat pockets
stain fingers
while i’m
a’ searching for pennies
in dark dark ink

and my ancient
clown mask sweating off

how soup lids
drip steam


i can not stop imagining

pillowed eyelids

retina fluff
your gaze and mine
averting the blinding

what’s hidden in the way
your eyes
match the color

your dress brings the sky
to earth’s eye level



i’m drinking your absence like absinthe

over a bitter’d (and sweet)

photoshop’d memory
of our love

and i’ve stopped everyone on the street
and it’s unanimous
the clouds do look heavy
and pregnant


and i’m trying to reverse the way i painted your eyes
and i’m tossing arrows into black waters
and i’m singing to our love that dark matter
isn’t as dark as we’d imagined it


as if my homeward bound stow-away anthems
could be the tin-pan army
my fingertips
were once famous for

my silent facade
would sings sheets and sheets and sheets and sheets
to the wind


and they’d ask
to please not howl
to please not
read aloud


we’ve anticipated

your every move


i wrote the song

in my daydreams

standing on a balloon

a red balloon

in the theatre

in my seat


i stitched my arms to my sleeve so’s

i could wave my open heart in

mid-air above my hang’d head

i found a map i made from apples

the how-to-manifesto described
a secret box of postcards

i collected enough stardust to
whisper your name

i raced your camouflage melodies skyward

on full moons i’d
gather less magnetism

but i taught daffodils to bloom

and dried leaves in honor

of your passing ghost


the light bulbs they rattle when shaken

and the alarm clock is

a panic’d robot

and the cats are out of food

and the walls are starting  to

wear away where
i’ve been worrying:

blank stares

sun and paper


like iron heels

my horseshoes went untied

i studied like rain

the sadness and the city

galloped me home


than i could run


like rafts that float you to me

and not

the other way around

i will
with might

make an oar

out of the way
we swam


imagine you are not of your dreams

that your dreams imagine you

imagine those dreams see clouds

imagine those clouds have dreams

imagine you are not
a choose-your-own-adventure

only better


distinctions like distractions
only you are at ease

imagine the vibrato of love
like cake how it melts
like the icing on the cake
how it will never melt

how good songs really are
as a’ boiled like a pot can

how hot-water-mist
is but what was intended

how the windows stay clear

how everything
becomes liquid


my breath now in sparkles shows no fade

save me from this cold

lets dissipate

only we’re older than that


i stored my cold war anthems
in cold war journals by the fireside

so’s you couldn’t tell
day from night
light from life

got caught up in the super world frenzy
that becomes the moment that passes

like a balloon
i will wait
like a lover
i will wait longer

my newest heart finds home in changed paintings

i’m caught

somewhere between the heartiest parts of rothko

and not

my ribbon theory these days

sounds like belles and seagulls

it’ll take me dog years

to get
this ringing
out of my ears



surrounded by art kept in well-lit halls

we scripted our nonchalance with axes and wands

like a black swan orchestra
like an ugly duckling seminar
we amplified it

we let the curse become the course

laughed in tandem to scars we used to hide

drew cactus circles around our sunken eyes

we matched our thirst in spades

and we tried on glasses

and we made messes

and we drank blind to scratched records

and in the morning
my friends and i
made the sun sing opposite

only we sang it desperate

and sexy

we penned our harmonies against night’s inferno

we sang oblongs to pastures that need not

for we sang in private

we sang it loud

and in unison

we leaned in

on the walls of the church we were building

and beamed
with cryptic halogen smiles


she has walls built and

laughs their paper-mache nonchalance

like blowing out birthday candles
in my face

she’s documented her
polaroid imagination in
sheets and sheets
upon sheaths of
unmanned notebook paper

like red-brick-silence
like lavender and lemon
her stories become

and her stillness
the way it all
piles and stacks and multiplies in
accidental butterfly movement
is but old lace and cinnamon


like a great wall
teemed with light and air
and as far and as high
as the heart
can suggest

she mirrors my galaxy with hers

and i begin to feel
a hidden science
in the silence
of love


i began telling stories in my dreams

started outright and familiar

drew neon buildings out of thin air

danced like godzilla danced
and flew over bridges – under

i crawled backwards invisible
stoic like ox on plains

i stopped time to make notes for future dreams
opened doors without keys but eyes

my aura like water
kept everything cool
as cats

like spider man and kerouac

ready for the world


i hid my dream-like suggestions

in dostoyevsky titled postcards

and shuffled like stingrays
my bucketful of inkblots
into tired notebooks the same

i tried to hang myself with
the umbilical cord
that grew out of the
spark from your eyelashes
in the rain
that night i kissed you

i was on top of the eiffel fucking tower
singing a song
in my daydreams
with my magicians cape
and my
red paisley
handkerchief harmonica
when you called

i swam like pan
into that immense and

fading blue

climbed like
spider man
on a mission

stood as sturdy as
fallen trees
bent backwards

i studied like an acorn
how winter changes

i sat in the waterfall
and caught
enough internal heat

to step out of

tattooed shoes
guilt’d eyelids

i tried to broadcast our love
onto buildings
and billboards
at rush hour

i carved your aura
out of silent static
and butterfly wings

and danced like
gatsby’s guests

across night’s

brilliant ballroom


my horseback theories

have all come back to haunt me

from now on
i’ll write my words
in sand

i’ll start early
in the mornings

clean the cob from the webs
the raft from the rafter

between my safety pills
and my hurricane stride

i’m pretty god-damned sure
you’ll notice

i’ve been walking on eggshells


throw glitter

fake it

fuck it

follow the sun


the sure grip of your memory

now caramelized on sunsets

sends knobby hands to closed journals

they dare peek those ancient words
now bloodied by time

i remember how those new mornings
drove us through our adolescence

through our doom days

we wore our hatred in spools of razor wire
on wrists as sore as eyelids

like radio hymns and cactusland brushings

we hiked our sisyphus shades
like a spider’s crawl into darker pipes

we visited our euphoria
in making the road trip longer

by visiting the parks
where our love
colored the flags a hue your eyebrows withheld

as i swam your pale-blue-eyed-sad-bird-on-a-stick eulogy
into weavings of screaming nerve endings

and as we swung those swing sets through
tire swing ropes and into the abyss
we waited for love to destroy us

and as everything was in its right and proper place

we danced like pan
and glided from dusk

into thin air


regret is the mildew

i dare not wipe
off mirrors

love is the shampoo
gets in my eyes

like emptied bath tubs
closed eyes

how to step out
is stepping in

when to get wet
is what’s important


of all my half-caked anthems

i swear to god

when you fell off

the trampoline

my heart leaned




notes on chords:

forget the sharps

write from the stomach
empasize the g’s
re-nullify the silent f’s
write in packages sent
little’r words
what’s heard

not verbs


my metaphors now

get caught up
in some kind of webbing

it’s only recently i’ve been
changing my rainbow structure



my ears steer fear

from your peerless vermeer

as if lights were purely
a mirror
of this earthly sphere


towards your teeter-totter



(for andy, the swan lord)


like missouri’s fireflies

my warm hands are

wrought with black tar
and sweet sweat

there is an infinite stair case
in the basement
where the fortune tellers
have been seeping
through the walls

all the envelopes
in the house
are empty and waiting

even my nightmares
have begun to glow

their faded-paper-yellows
and hickory-hash-blacks


my last chance sonatas

were taking leagues

to furnish

so i howled like a coyote

and danced
to the sound water makes

i pushed my arms
so far into the
reclining air

that i forgot to count
my dizzy spells

i forgot to let
the avalanche

cover me


i can not walk alone enough

or harder

or faster
or freer
the bird i’m

pretending not to notice

and my shoelaces
are grimace
and the concrete is hot

it’s as if my own cross-eyed version
of love and war
are nothing but

i don’t own

and the glaring sun


my true song is loss

i wake up to it daily

i have it on repeat

i made copies
black and whites

i blew up the negatives
i started making a journal

and then i started giving up
on the specifics

i started twirling anything i held

started whistling songs
i hadn’t writ

started making plans
for the future


my hair stands up

on it’s legs

on it’s own

these days


of all my sadness

i somehow managed to convince myself

love was the answer
to the question
i dared not ask

i convinced myself
treason was to
my own guilted resolve
as mutiny is to
learned hurt

i did not know at the time
how much effort it takes
to ward off danger

i did not know

the planks i’ve walked

in dreams

i dare not visit

stand sturdy still

you have to take your clothes off first

gotta stand in the middle of the room

gotta pretend that no one notices

the color of your skin

you gotta pretend

that the photograph

isn’t as important

as the abstraction


my pure-water beard sings nothing of it’s whiskers

says nothing

of my new glass inferno

my old world accomplice
is eons but eons away

my offbeat arpeggios
sing secret whale songs

sing new birth
and old birth
the same

they sing like lost diamonds
have family

like darkness


i dreamt your sisyphus ashes

had nothing on my acrobatic slumber

that their worried numbs found callous in
the emptiest of shells

i dreamt i kept your wishes safe

chanted their silent songs
your direction for days

when my early-water clippings dissolved

i crossed out my muddied days

for the chance to jaunt about town with you

and we flew kites and it was good

funny how photographs
tell such a different story


my friend jon and i

drunk on walking cows

huddle our daydreams in a row

like pretty pots and pans
we try our damndest
to get the point across

without failure

our arrows shoot the moon

without warrant

our poems backfire

our plum drunk love stories
wait like chopped wood

and our fire hides
and our journals wait

and like clouds

and photographs

and string

we’re out there somewhere


i keep you parallel


i nurse rhymes to the beat of boots

i stare diagonal coffee shrugs over
a melancholy we once hemmed at

i make-believe whatever it was
was worth it

i creep out from under wings
sold you to the notion that
youth might not separate
us from then
us from now

either way
discussing the sadness is sad

and not that i should only call when you’re depressed

it’s just
no one listens to morrissey anymore

at least
not without reserve

and not without late nights

that almost always

have an ending


i swear i can resurrect enough dark matter

to draw your face

the color stethoscopes

see life

the sound orbits make

when you’re close to me


yr leaves are as dark as the sky

the particles are like

how filtered sun
beams in on
whatever it was

shone shiny

in the light


i painted my old world blues in browns and blacks

i painted them with silver string and with silver

i got on my knees and stretched the fucking canvas

as far as i could reach




in the years ahead

i began drawing on clouds

i’d dip my invisible brush into invisible lakes


i’d let it sit for a couple of lifetimes


just so’s

in the future i could have a reference

as to what those

blank pages

were all about


i tied my hands in a bow

i was so nervous at your wedding

i think i cried in my pants

at the ceremony
when all of us stood there
for the photographs

all of us jumping around
bottles and suits
smiles and all

we painted ourselves in pastels

drew limericks in the air of the ocean mist

we smelled something crisp
on the horizon

we tied a ribbon
to the string of the belles
that chimed in the distance