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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
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
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
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
if you are reading this i am dead like you though we both have some life left here as both the container and the contained in your mouth like a cavity that can be filled with a finish less filling than flesh sweetened with tenderness from your lips * i’m followed by shade with the … Continue reading
happiness may be impossible but we must risk it if we are to survive in the goodness of this world that is often bad and burning * the universe is forever but today, with you, is not and that’s as special as it can get for today is as close to forever as we’ll be … Continue reading
how is it that a subway filled with dogs provides joy and one with too many owners crowds the vehicle with dread * as a lazy mosquito sucking itself into a question of will it become an itchy bump or an itchier nothing we are all looking for relaxation that doesn’t lead to boredom or … Continue reading
something outside isn’t right because the day is shorter than a stripper’s skirt and everyone remains sick with the morning is healed by the night and are ill again when the sun yawns as though nothing changed even though they have for they brought home a story of these girls real pretty funny too whose father wasn’t … Continue reading
i knew there was always something wrong with always knowing something wrong about i like how i can’t write about myself all too well because once i say i’m pretty great with all the ugliness i can muster i feel myself sliming out just like that: mustard gas slinking yellow that makes me hurl on … Continue reading
summer is sick throwing up on itself into fall where the city burns itself with the lights of buildings and night that look like stars against the loneliness and dark for like them the buildings are empty with no one around and there is only one me staring outward hoping for someone to notice me … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 