Thursday, September 26, 2013


My hands smell of
Melted wax the air

Is thick with snuffed
Smoke light flickers

With every breath
While fresh splayed

Wounds groan under
The weight of words

Left too long on the

Tongue dripped of
All sentiment &


Sunday, September 22, 2013


Why do you insist
Against yourself
Why do you try so
Hard talk so loud
Tell bad jokes so
Badly ignoring the
Quiet of sufferance
Listen to the words
You tell yourself
For ignorance is a
Thing to be kept
Inside a closed
Mouth not revealed
By a slavering mood
Quench your thirst
Gently & savor the
Bitter truth for that
Which you see did
Not write this poem
That which you
Taste did


Thursday, September 12, 2013


Today the sky’s
A uniform grey
All of one shade
In a world of so
Many variables
How is this even
Possible how can
Anything be all of
One color when
Tomorrow the
Sky may be the
Muddle of an oil
Spilt puddle it’s
As if God has
Painted himself
Into a corner
Drawing a



While heat phantoms slow
Burn the left overs of God
On a grille of tar & concrete
An anonymous machine
Paints a white line down
The center of the highway
As a distraction amidst the
Great expanse of nothing
So / turning a bloodshot eye
Against the tedious glare
I watch the road dissolving
Up ahead into a message
Hung from a rusted chain
(a clean bed & a hot cup
of coffee would be nice)
Yet resign myself to the
Occasional current of sad
Inevitability & wonder at
The relevance of this



Tuesday, September 10, 2013


Looking out the attic
Window at sunshine
& flowers / clouds &
Birds flying / I feel
Like flying / leaping
Into the wind as a
Silhouette against
The brightness an
Agent of freedom
Sorely tempted &
Tried ascending in
To the landscape
Of sun unnoticed
By all momentarily
Stunned of purpose
I return myself back
Into this room into
This life finding a
Path thru the cob
Webs & dust & the
Discarded artifacts
Of existence finally
Descending the mis
Aligned stairs only
To land safe in my
Own shoes & yet
What is this glass
That shatters the


Sunday, September 1, 2013

Visionary Song

Talking to the serpent
Speaking in tongues
Listening to angels
Swimming in the blood
Of an Old Testament

Afternoon / is nothing
New under the sun /
Just an old man in
The corner thinking
Of what he’s become

Trying to untangle all
The fingers pointing
Blame sifting thru a
Miracle discarded in
The rain

Drawing crosses in
The mud crucifying
All the hurt collects in
A broken bottle dis
Carded in the dirt


The dead

Breaking bread in the
Morning communing with what’s
Still living inside