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i wonder if i repeat that i will not die will it happen at the end the beginning or the middle of a sente- * what is the point is a pointless question to ask and even less to answer for all there is are the small things like tomorrow or yesterday or if this … Continue reading


if only things could be different you say while doing the same things like waiting for a simile that makes everything make sense to you again like when you were eighty seven and knew only death in each breath and smile like when you were sixty seven with grandchildren at your feet and telling them … Continue reading

the old modern

modernity is defined by absence by the i don’t get it why i didn’t get it by the empty space meant to show distance and safety but the buildings’ lights don’t turn off in the night and the basement hasn’t been explored yet because its too dark by irony and iron both crusting and rusting … Continue reading

tragedy of the commons

the tragedy of the commons is that we were born too soon to learn how to stop our birth * my mom is in love with my dad and booze at the same time and one leads to another though i forget which way the direction lays like a beast feasting in roadkill after a … Continue reading

thinking thoughts

i wish to substitute sex with writing for the pen is rudimentary and has been known to fail to create characters in its splatters and the rush of a climax that satisfies only one usually and sometimes even then did you like it because i only do if you did the do too but there’s too … Continue reading

smog that stuffs

the world never sleeps and the people never wake when the cities are stuffed with smog of the morning or is it the exhaust from last night that brings them to their beds after being busy but never busy enough for there is more to do in the morning and hopefully a lot more to … Continue reading


beat the lazy sun that climbs later each day and will stumble over a hill drunk from the night before with a vomit of yellow pouring to those who will see and only you will for the sun rises first on its knees then hands then feet to you who is working doing giving the … Continue reading

poems for a fly

the fly she cried my sigh it died * i ride car side red tide i hide * my pet is pat in pot, fire pit * hands here mind there body where – found ere they wear

chocolate chips and vodka

i’m starting to wonder why i’m writing so much and i believe it’s because i feel something coming, something contained, something good because it is also going, spooling, limitless for i have yet to touch and taint it with me, with these words that haven’t done much as of yet besides for make me come … Continue reading

writing about writing about nothing

any good story is going to change when you read it again for you have changed for good from stories * there are too many people to write and it takes too many people to write; writing is never alone * writing is about not talking about how to write * writing is muting yourself … Continue reading