Renovation

I The scaffolding is so rickety Rusted bolts and dented poles Loosely bound by some intent The rotted wood of those planks Too weak to even house worms. I don’t know how you can trust A man to rebuild your home who Doesn’t bother to maintain integrity of the structure meant to safely support Himself….

In Vino Veritas

    My head is on his lap. A thousand fumes swirl purple, possibility dances around the room. The air is distilled – raining ruby droplets, soft as mist. His fingers try to free the unruly tangle of my jungle warfare hair, but pull back in retreat as they feel resistance. An arm appears from…

Incredulity Is Just Another Word For Horseshit

“I’m the best friend you could ever hope for. And you treat me like this?” Words poured their tar as spiders & bats flew from the grave his mouth became. Those words were coffins where old lies and broken promises had lain undead and restless, trying to claw their way back to life. Making the…

A Yew Takes Root

  An artist’s ache for immortality is slow-poisoning. I don’t pretend to be understood by anyone. Comprehension’s always a battle hard-won. Although I’d like my tea leaves read, my dirges sung – to be felt as the steady percussive thrum of hunger: a yowl in the gut, an unraveling poem.

Toilet Training

  I’m in the shower. Someone knocks on my bathroom door: I’m convinced there is some Universal Law of Infernal Fucktitude that mandates I always be in the shower when strange men with loud knocks come a-calling. (Some may call it Murphy’s Law, but something that wicked, that mischievous needs a more diabolical name. Murphy…

Pokemon Is Go

Juno is tattling on Jupiter and a million mortals are gossiping about it on what we call social media, though there is little social in it and they probably haven’t read more than the headlines. Still, home is where your smartphone is.  I myself am waiting for Scotty to beam me up. I seem to…

To Unplug or Not to Unplug

  I continue to question why I seek this venue, why any of us who expend untold hours on social media (but, more specifically, Facebook) do to the extent we do. I think, in general, we need to find the balance and sift the trash from the treasure. A most difficult thing to do when…

Call For Submission

  It’s not enough, is it? You cackle from the trees Spanning the black There’s a break in the branches Feathers fly their arrow in one direction The sun glints slick Malachite light on The swoop of your dive You’ve got me in your beak Your claws cling hard digging into my wriggling pride But…

August Was Anything But

It’s rustled sheets and creaking floorboards these days. I’m restless. Dust motes tornado their oblivion in the cobwebbed corners of my echo’s silenced boom. Even the fog eventually grows tired of its own fugue, nobody but me hears that the foghorn stopped blowing: some things just *poof* disappear without anyone noticing. I dig another trench…

Quasi Modo

  There really wasn’t much to say. He tried to run his Mouth anyway That ham fist ever ready To nestle up to His Palatine uvula. There’s a gong going off in here The reverb ruins everything Sound waves trampoline Wall to wall The cathedral he built Becomes his prison All the stained glass shatters…

Hope You’re Happy Now!

    If a nuclear holocaust ever broke out two creatures would survive: Cockroaches and my mother. Her resilience has no limits. Her tenacity knows no bounds. She’s survived: Two dead husbands Three suicide attempts A heart attack Diabetes 50 years of drug, Nicotine and alcohol abuse (Only the good die young.) Of course, in…

Or Be Bitten

The sky broke wide open Our balloon was grounded. A tinfoil moon popped out From between the pages Of an old dust bitten book And crooned a tune, trying Desperately not to mention Itself (or June). Parked beneath the branches Of an unaccommodating tree Dripping naked and reeking Of ill-boding, your beast Was showing. You…

Dear Mommy: My bullseye has faded. Sorry.

  She tries to contact me my nerves crackle at the sight of her name it’s just a message in a filtered mailbox but it’s still too close. Her blank avatar on Facebook yields nothing. I’d love to write of the breaking through where a new chapter is written, where all my piers are turned…

Mommy Messages Me On Facebook Again

She reaches for me through the bars of hell flames for fingers bullets for words all her thought clouds fueled by napalm: it’s an acrid atmosphere. Enough to make my eyes tear. She’s looking for the tender  in me to shoot. She’s dying in the fumes. Those noxious plumes replace an incinerating heart, consuming her….

Dissolving The Lucid Moment

  I was dreamy with you last night. You were with a friend … you both wore army green (silly of you since you’re in the navy, not the army… who were you trying to fool?)… Your brown leather boots, laced-up tight… looking very army issue. I wore a white-flagged surrender, my skin the braille…

…But I Haven’t

You’re sharpening that crow’s beak again. The caws curdle in your throat as you swoop in, all black cloud thunder and ruffled down; you spit out the last of your love with a furnace blast to clear the airways for the final bravura aria. Ferocity is your siren song and I have no mast to…

I should have kissed you once

  Still… All memory fades – eventually, like the lipstick painted too heavily on this clown mouth I always wear. At first thick- the lush red flush glistens until it cakes, dry and untasted, into skin creases its smear of patterned sadness eroding everything. You became the stain that soiled my white dinner napkin. That…

The Immortal Shaddow

      His tongue was thick, as were his fingers. His head was more fat than thick – like his belly. His voice had a lilt that was less musical than it was habitual – the simple accident of being born an Irishman. If he had it his way, he would have been hatched…

Garden of Melancholia

The cypress spires are wilting, our sky is scaped in fog, swallowing up powder pink yolks of runny sun flipped over-easy: reality serves me from its platter and I’m carrying my face in my hands again. Startled eyes shoot their blanks at a dove flying out of the void this head of mine’s becomes; its…

Eros and Thanatos Sitting In A Tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G

The messenger was dead on arrival. He refused to heed the roadsigns: Caution Slippery When Wet Yield Loose Rocks May Fall Danger Construction Area No Trespassing Authorized Personnel Only Stay Clear Stop He tumbled into cataclysm after cataclysm But didn’t die until I shot him with his own bow. I want to destroy you. I…

A Long Way To Fall

This? This is nothing. A heckling. A shudder in words. A leeching… A release of poison from veins. A visceral reaction. A knee jerk. An eye twitch. A reflexive response to ceaseless irritation. The slow click of a shutter. An abatement. The aperture tunnels itself into pinpricks. The camera pans up. A buzzsaw sun whirrs…

” La fatal pietra sovra me si chiuse”

The sun dropped from the sky. Buzzsawing its way along the beach. The ocean burst into flames, but nobody seemed to care. Strains of an aria crackled and popped through thick air. Decades old speakers held on tight to their metal, as the music’s notes were extruded through mesh – spaghetti-stringing Aida’s last breath –…

‘Not nothing’ means something

Is this the ground your feet tread upon? Your molten mercury spills its silver and pours memory like death upon this ant colony. Scurry away. Busy yourself with all the plausible. None of it matters. Small mounds hide the tumulus that life becomes. You may pull your hair, and yank out your teeth, but the…

First the grub, then the morality

Fill an empty stomach, two-ply with convenience then see what harvest a little preaching reaps. Few people bite the hand that feeds them, so when Lady Bountiful comes shrink-wrapped in a tamper-resistant package bounding in banality and off-the-cuff pleasantries, coated with corn syrup and gluten-free cellulose filling, it makes it that much easier for the…

Not nothing means something

“My first link with death. A woman I knew had died. I painted this purely from memory. It’s a strange picture. I was striving for an overall schematic of dawn colors – silvery hues.” ~Andrew Wyeth   Is this the ground your feet tread upon? The mercury spills its silver and pours memory like death…

Church Girl

She told me she had strong faith. I was slightly distracted by the deep cleave of her neckline and already awash in 120 proof fumes… I thought she said she had a strong face. I clocked her with a closed fist, shattering the first two knuckles in my right hand. You see, knowing she was…

Mabon

The fog crept up on old creaky knees. Tired and slow, but moving steadily toward her. Age probably has more penalties than rewards, but strength of will was something that only built up over time. Or maybe that will was nothing more than lack of purpose. If you had nothing better to do why not…

“Eat guilt free!”

Touts the sign of the new cafe jangling along an interminable chain of “healthy choice” cafes that are littering the landscape of this city. Here is one of the most pervasive problems polluting modern culture today. This notion that we need help from all and sundry with the most trivial banal ostensible difficulties.   I’m…

The Warming Hut

“What are you reading?” I hesitate only a millisecond before replying – and only because I’m not sure how much she knows about literature, how much I should append my reply, so I don’t have to duck and cover. My choice of reading material usually gives people pause. I decide to presume nothing and shoot…

I Should Want To Kiss Him…

All these thoughts are just so much late afternoon sun in my eye I can’t look ahead toward the horizon without being blinded So I keep my head down watching my feet tread the same gridded ground My mind is the moan and creak of a boat docked, straining against the weight of its anchor,…

Summer Lovin’

The day stretches her limbs, easing into the arms of dark. I wonder how many truths have been written on the peel of bark. How many people have been sat under the shade of a tree by the will of a sun that beats too strong… Carving their wishes in small hearts and lettered scrawl–the…

Bitchwitchery

Wind sun trees Waves bash into the sea wall Water spumes to froth The bay looks like some giant high-maintenance bitch’s grande triple extra-foamy chai latte Maybe her mood is raising the tide Making gusts of air rip through flags Leaves and hair. Is there a difference Between a woman and the moon? Only the…

Truth or Consequences

“The girl comes with me.” As he grabbed my hand and yanked me away from the taxi’s entrance. The others piled in, shut the door and waved goodbye. His husky “I need to talk to you. Walk with me. Please.” tasted of Rolling Rock beer. I didn’t smell the desperation or see the haunting in…

The Cloistered Oyster

“Like all dreamers, I mistook disenchantment for truth.” ~Sartre   All heavily nacre’d, Some days he grows small, so small the slackening hinge to his bivalve heart shrivels as he dives into the sediment hoping to attach to the sea floor: He’s a mass of seething irritant surrounded by cultured shell, unable to tell the…

Inconsolable

  He is salt and sinew and time but mostly time Moments colonize riding the surf of his blood in waves waves of longing waves of regret waves of goodbye The problem was not grief it was something more calculable someone’s probably already assured him that every exit’s really an entrance but where’s the consolation…

Arm’s Distance Is Dogma

  This destiny thing is not what it’s cracked up to be. I peek through the keyhole of Maybe, trying to steal another glance from myself, all my quills porcupining their way through time. It’s the push-pull that drags my body through your multiple extrusions as you scatter yourself like a fright of mice. I…

Keep Off The Berm

  They come up behind me I slow down to let them pass I have to… The shrill of their magpie voices (All those “like…you know”s Punctuating every breath As they gossip about people Who probably believed they Were friends) Turns my nails into talons My teeth into switchblades Gets my hawk eyes narrowing Maybe…

Context & Framing Meet Narrative In A Venn Diagram

    Take off your red cap, Holden. There’s nothing to catch except your wry. Baby, you haven’t lived hard enough yet to earn all that angst. That sawdust in your veins is probably a cool literary device, your parade of mice on ice may Pied-Piper clueless kids away but all that feign in your…

You’re on the road

    You’ve got two dollars folded together like palms in prayer and a pocket full of dreams. You left your spine somewhere back there in an alley trashcan You searched and searched for years, but only found wishbones. Your lips whistle old tunes the same melody that has kept many a hitchhiker like you…

Keep Me

    There are moments That dangle on the chain of illusion Lustrous & jewel-like Their bevel of jasper polished to high sheen Cutting through a-mazed mind To find the quiet nesting place inside of us It can be said every soul bears the weight of a corpse upon it Towing it as an unwilling…

August Is Anything But

    It’s rustled sheets and creaking floorboards these days. I’m restless. Dust motes tornado their oblivion in the cobwebbed corners of my echo’s tune. Even the fog eventually grows tired of its own fugue, nobody but me hears that the foghorn stopped blowing: some things just *poof* disappear without anyone noticing. I dig another…

He’s Houdini

      but instead of wriggling his body out of straightjackets and locked coffins he worms his way into them, burying his doubts like he does his dick in that priest hole he dug into his mattress. “I haven’t been fucked in forever.” he laments to me, when his tonsils are wet and his…

Murder In The Streets, Killer Between The Sheets

    It’s crossed words and duels at sunrise again and I don’t know how to love him I need more than he wants and I can’t seem to muzzle those echoes in my bones Sense follows nonsense My gristle caught in the teeth of a madness that not even his flesh can release.  …

His Head Wailing Unsprung.

  And he’s sitting there land-locked, anchored to the slope of the hill at the edge of Fort Mason Park his head in large brown hands rocking a strong torso back and forth, back and forth wailing in front of an invisible wall. He’s been there so long his skin is grass-stained. He looks like…

Hippo Crits

    They dip their snouts in the wallow of their own dung and mud, and delight in flagrant fragrances of bias’ floral splendor. Resurfacing, they take in your sweet bouquet, flare their dirt-caked nostrils with disdain and despair as they burrow deeper into their mudhole to release more sharts into a tidal flux of…

And We All Laughed One Last Time

      They were sweet. Three tourists from China tenterhooked, waiting to cross the street at an interminable red light at Marina Green near Fort Mason Park with not a car in sight. I look right and left, then stroll on in defiance of that “Don’t walk” sign. They follow alongside me, all dawn-eyed…

Rilke Was Right

  It’s the last day – the sky’s all cracked glass and hooded blight, the crows look like flying monks cawing Benedictine prayers at a shrouded sun. Nothing is right anymore. The ignition of your eyes has turned a lighter shade of pale, the air is ash and I’m covered in wreckage; every bit of…

Just Another Burning Bush

    When the man was a boy, he walked through thicketed woods. Loblolly pines, cypress, beech, and magnolia trees lined the walking path which lay like the centre aisle in a grand cathedral. The trees were pews to sit, stand or kneel on. It was a holy place then, a place for contemplation, a…

Though I Can’t Swim

    My head is twirling, which is no surprise since I have umbrella-stepped my way through life, Landing like Mary Poppins on every rooftop, one by one. Razing days like sugarcane from sun to sun. I was born in mid-air. Tip-toeing over tightropes. Slicing past all the pigeon-wire. My skin in shreds, black quills…

Requiem For A Dream

      I will keep I will keep You With me I can wait I can bait Your fisher king His coffee grounds are used His Carpenter’s cup is empty His a thirst that always grows His a covenant to go His a shadow’s lost hello His destination a bleak flatline horizon Crucify the…