Friday, December 25, 2015


when sacred monsters
return then the air
like a nervous burn
the nightingale is startled
unable to yearn
for what it’s there for

when sacred monsters
in the closeted night
when the
heart is closed
from dusk until light
sacred monsters
sending the outer to inner
off to a room
to bed without dinner

there’s a hundred ways to
love them monsters
on many gray days
when the heart is uncalled for
its speechless refrain
is memory’s lost voice
tell me again it’s
a dangerous choice

in a sky of clearly murderous blue
the sun casts shadows
monsters trail you
night is an engine
purring underfoot
wine the invention
of the terminally rootless
a sensible horizon is what is needed
a brutal journey is what was craved
the last glass of wine and a bedtime read
it starts with relief
it starts when you’re saved

embrace the crashes
those terrible questions
the people behind us
are never mentioned
arguments raised
the dead will never
we’ll kill the beast
not the one trapped inside
sacred monsters stick
around for the ride
there is no such thing
as a small enemy

what held me once no longer holds me

who knew me once no longer knows me

Wednesday, December 23, 2015


annihilate me
violate me
take a chance and quiet me
you place yer bets
you takes yer chances
will I fall for your romance
your boneless dances 
or will I jump at the sound
of something amiss
rush to the bookcase
to the the owl beheaded
it needs fixing now
goddamn cat I shriek
you nasty feline
fucking annoying
furred man of my dreams
I’m yours in the morning
I feed you it seems
I’m yours again
when an afternoon read
turns to narcoleptic dreams
stare at me on the toilet
I’m used to it now
slide beside me
deride me
with that furrowing brow
you’re a cat
I’m a human
let’s sort that all now
you’re a cat
I’m a human
I bow, I bow
and continue presuming’
I’m still a human
maybe not forever

but at least for now.

Thursday, December 17, 2015

life preservers

sentimental waves
drown me in that willing sea
pass the bucket
line the coffin
quell the ruckus that is me
I’m a man without borders
in California
or New York
I spear the living with insight
and the dead with a fork
nothing is hopeless
when tempted to pornography
the map I seek is the Land of the free
who is the Buddha
who laughs the last laugh
what child speaks volumes
of a life not yet empty
the ark is rocked
steering holds fast
two by two fairy tales
I tend to the truth
two by two fairy tales
builds a roof
whatever is stale
in the regretful unknown
makes a beam in the cellar
and a house a home
it’s vintage it’s trend
it’s a world with no end
I am the life preserver
so, fuck it, commence.

Thursday, December 3, 2015


mended is not broken
ended is not done
morning means another opening
evening’s door is half undone
windows closed are
still a welcome
cloudy skies are songs unsung

beauty won’t be taken
aging has not won
godless knows a different rightness
praying leaves a bell unrung
candles lit are
forsaken still the lasting hunt

wounded won’t be finished
bloody race remains
wield the sword of impoliteness
leaving meals on empty plates
terrors mold soon
barbarians at the unlocked gate

mended is not broken

ended is not done