This is not a poem ( Read more... )

The Noose tightened on Sunday night, while Jameson chased Michelob down the street. All tethers to the known world were savagely, if temporarily, severed. Function followed the form(-lessness of the work) in a fit of visible abandon. My apologies to the obvious victims. Here’s a battle scar about my transient honeymoon in Germany on Christmas Eve, ( Read more... )

Death ( Read more... )

So, yeah, you can listen to them ( Read more... )

Finished Book 2 of The Ramble NooseHere's a biopsy done by shotgun ( Read more... )

"When Homer died, I used up all the fear I had in me, and all the grief, too. If there's somebody loose around here that wants to cut my throat, I wish him luck. What difference does it make? It's all the same in eternity." - Myrt from In Cold BloodThere comes a time where we first fear ( Read more... )

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It was another interrogative morning. Questions tilting at everything.

The news, the reason for so-called entertainment, the validity of art.

Some days you wake up and walk outside at dawn and see the indigo world waking up, and anything more seems redundant, a culture working hard at padding a resume.


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I'm happy to say my latest chapbook, I want to look like Henry Bataille is getting it picked up by the respected Little Poems Press. When it is available, I will begin doing something I haven't done in ages....do readings and open mics to promote it.

Buddha help us all.

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