i'm not sure if anyone reads this journal anymore. but! here is the story i just finished. some minor revisions will follow but mostly its done.

My body strikes its own tune sometimes. A pulsed ache starts in the left temple, rattles me there, rattles throughout. I shake to the rhythm of it, twitch in time. Any day I wake released from the headache ( Read more... )

sudden love

a physical silence

laying in a roadside ditch, i turn, look over my shoulder, see nothing but distance.

&  on his wrist, scribbling the word blowtorch

sheetless bed, dirty hair, dialing a ditch in the midwest.

a cup with my lip raised always to the rim

hold hand wash hand

there are bibles i cannot touch

My best friend from grade school became the leader of a cult for Christians with Acoustic Guitars. He & fifty others lived in tents on the outskirts of Texas till Nate began hoarding cult money for a getaway to Mexico, reasons unknown. He saved almost twenty-thousand dollars in a tattered copy of Pushkin’s poetry before his arrest. Everyone at home ( Read more... )