B-Side
when the songs you sing have someone else’s lovebites on them you are flush, burning: though not from passion, but embarrassment. this here whores den you rail against, frequent. not […]
Autumn’s Fall
feel the thrum of a ruffed grouse mating call as it beats beneath my breastbone asking after me. ruffled my feathers, too. *** pine boughs like a lover’s caress feather
On Being A Tugboat
Been tryyyyying to make me a schedule during this pandemic with all the ups and downs. This gives me some hope.
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What’s Donne Is Done
What’s Donne is Done John Donne is done. Perhaps buried alive a poet who didn’t quite know it. The denouement rock flawed headstone to be made known where he lie
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Palaver Jaw
Summer’s sun perches atop the highest spot in the sky. Scavenger spies its carrion crawl across the horizon of the porch. Zorched in the heat the months tumble by, dry
The Tangled Interwebs We Weave
I am but an insecttoiling awayat social mediaa fly ho vering about the desecrated bodiesa spoiledmovable feastthey’ve laid out for usin the heat of the momentthe daywhatever isthe latest
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Man Voyage VI: New England
Always such a nice time with my partner-in-crime.
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Ten dollars and a direction
she relays to me that I’m odd (not that I haven’t heard that before) and that I’ll always be that way (yah, I’ve heard that too) and this is why
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