i miss the old Knit on Leonard Street
the sunset on the west side concrete
your eyes on fire with a lust for the ages
turned only toward a book's thousand pages

stamp my hand, let me in
the drum beats to the sound of my sin
we fought more often than not but we fought fair
and i know you're calling me home but it's all up in the air.

scans of gelatin printed double exposures (in camera), 2004/05?

barcelona, 2007

from christmas lights set, 2009

Spencer Chamberlain of Underoath,
12-2-09, Clifton Park, NY

new writing.

music speaks louder than their voices.
options just seemed so much easier than making choices.
i'm not here to be social or a saint.
these aren't lapses in judgment or something insane.
here you are and
you do not subscribe
you are here but
you do not subscribe
hover goes this moment i'm alive so
the karma doesn't work here,
the love is never free
and i'm not the only one suffering
from their misery.

i don't let it define the way i move through crowds
i'll be in your face but they never taught me to be loud.
they those in that bed are coddled, cuddled
when they up and vanished with a trace
monsters live inside this sheep
monsters from which i've yet to weep.

toronto, august 2009