Wednesday, February 24, 2016

ON A FREAKTASTIC HOT STREAK!

Two dozen rejections in a row?  Possibly.  I've actually lost count.  So it goes.  Here's an older piece in the meantime, from Poor Mojo:




forest




an empty house on the
morning of the abortion

an empty hand in the
age of money


this is what becomes the past

these are the words that can
only ever be


pale memories of the actions

 
the weight of too many moments
spent waiting for the
moment to end

 
of too many rooms filled
with cold silence and ashes

 
your girlfriend's sister
getting dressed and telling you
it was a mistake

 
your best friend's wife
on her hands and knees

 
her tongue cut out or
a knife in your throat or the sound
of someone's daughter puking
in the street

 
your tires slashed
by a man you've never met

 
his wife banging on your door
 

at two in the morning
 
says all she wants to do is talk





Thursday, February 18, 2016

OLDER INSANE RAMBLINGS OF A CRAZY PERSON

 LINK:
http://www.ravennapress.com/snowmonkey/volume.php?volume=3&issue=1&title=jsintro


this dream of days



the plan of course
was to kill
and the indian holding the
american flag above his head
was a perfect target

and we'll call this page one

or what about the idea of
presidents fucking slaves?

what about the klan?

what they all have in common
is an ironclad faith in god

what the witches do is hang

the past
at any given moment
has already become your
future




Tuesday, February 16, 2016

: :




and wherever you are,
men hired by the government shooting
into crowds and,
wherever you are,
the sound of laughter

the futile effort of being
somewhat human

Thursday, February 11, 2016

a better dog




let the weight of faith be
what finally pulls you under

close your eyes as you
touch bottom then open
your mouth to sing





poem for picasso





it’s nothing to
admit you’re afraid

it’s cold sunlight
in an empty room