World Poetry Day, yay

use your indoor voice said the monster to the man grinding turbine winter of solace nocturne animalization of our future sedate the sedition cut away cancer clean parabolic nations offer love to the fidelity of distress comatose virulent vocations of nihilistic interventions USE YOUR OUTSIDE VOICE with no plan you take the stand and garble truths to headline time universe just waiting for the next take push back gender war fealty pay what you owe you know blast from the past, happenstance ma ma ma ma microphone tiptoe to the wilting only raise your finger in traffic furnace speaks its … Continue reading World Poetry Day, yay


It’s all slipping.  It’s sliding.  Incongruous.  Untoward outwardly forward.  Mellifluous.  I put my skin on backwards to see myself from the inside, out.  I wonder what went through that medical supervisor’s mind when his employee shot him.  “Hey, this is what I am on the inside.”  I don’t know.  It’s fucking tragic.  I dislike quite a few people, and I have some former employers I despise, but to take a life over some job?  Poor soldiers.  Taking lives is their job.  I like the smell of lilacs and jasmine.  Fragrances are soothing.  Nuclear winters in Korea.  Skiing in a HASMAT. … Continue reading 42417


The verdant L shape of lonely imbued with a hazy heart of ache criss-cross applesauce demure in the aftermath of sorrow tomorrow shout it out loud indelible paint splattered on the walls of my empty pocket soul In the remaining of light the reminder’s silhouette is a dark beauty bend my will and contort to form the verdant L shape of lonely tattooed with 50 words for mistake when the adhesion fails to take what is a lonely to do I beseech you to mend my truth I have lost the togethers apart from the forevers and settled into all of … Continue reading Verdant

Poetry Is Me

Aurora, bore me Alice fled from my responsibilities with a stolen smile and a London overcoat sickly sweet surrenders and citron martinis just another Armageddon Wednesday gaunt debutante sambas your salsa burns baby where I go will you follow me to show me all I can never know? grandfather of no one miasma of that great era it tears at tears and fears forests of folly fending famished fiends of fire hydrochloric acid words educate my body in your ways I am feeble and scrambled like a short wave under water running a hustle, bustle slinging my game out on … Continue reading Poetry Is Me


Absinthe and the cartography of bone radiant lies in a bed of ashes coals red enfolded in carbon black a forcing endorsed by the sources of course remnants of lives hide in wake of ruined gaze haunts cling to iris spilling across chasms of encounter dry mouth nonchalance ruby derelictions eroded convictions millennial milestones mark the miles making up the millions of modest mavens of masochism you have met. Leech out the last drop of my love There is dust on the counter at least there is salt for the meat cloaked by night and whisky-drenched shame the inference is … Continue reading Cartography

Burning Blue

Sign the cue right into two fell through their purview coming to and the blue is burning with a brutal poignancy the unimaginative minds conjugate the travesties disconsolate meander to the mean without bounds fend off one’s hound unfettered furlough we swing low the carrion tattooed into steel an unmaker in the carry-on savage the wing with forced respite festival of shameless infatuation the blue is burning dropping dreams with ash and nickel sleepy in the pure air another life in breath the compulsion to shout goodbye mysteries to be tried in the eyes we seem to reach another lie … Continue reading Burning Blue

Somewhere In an Opera

I bite my tongue and watch blood trace patterns of words I do not Know I wish I could die or become something more engrave your whys into their thoughts begin to understand you fools love has, is and always will be your favorite illusion so drive me home after the opera your scorn can follow me to my door but it is not allowed to come in there are demons tearing at my eyes folding visions into pills forcing me to enjoy the trip saving my feelings for the day when your eyes no longer lie alas, to wait … Continue reading Somewhere In an Opera

A story

Life is a story.  An epic without an end?  I just say the three little words and sip my coffee.  I prefer to pretend that you didn’t change my life.  Soft lullabies that help you to cope with the small instances in which you find yourself happy can sometimes reflect the monumental moments that catch us in the horror that fills the eyes of the child holding the hand of a corpse whose maternal identity was stolen by Chinese alchemists. Someone will whisper to your neighbor that they know about the chaos that has seized your life and cast you … Continue reading A story