Month: April 2025
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Reality Doesn’t Sell
The eye of the glossy tender Am I merely a revenant spirit To cast glows of comatose Leopard skin lies Dandelions adrift to an island Sanctimonious prayers over the smokestack Puffs of passion The smell of it Raspberry licorice In the glass case at the candy shop Where the man with the plastic hand works Read more
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The Geranium Machines
The rose bushes are plummeting upward My baby-blue sick guts Calculating out the time In a warp, a bend Of space all nonsense Geranium machines Rattling off methodical defense Bullet showers in the windows Curtain calls Charm and sun and blood The euphoric day of another world Take me to Eden Sands A place in Read more
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Like July
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To lie down and cry Would be to admit defeat For a man A soldier Etching in his yellow notebook The war rages on out there A sky full of bullets and smoke Howls of the innocents Where are the government men? Who shout the war cry loudest Where are their guns and blood? Where Read more
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Southern Naked Dolls (End)
The natural cage in which he walked was made of trees. The trail wound along the edge of the lake, and he could peer out between limbs and leaves and see the sparkling blue water. Then the trail curved inward, deeper into the forest and all was silent save for the birds or scrambles of Read more
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Astronaut on Acid
A wore down astronaut sits on a shaved concrete pillar in a lost city of ruins Bent metal, piles of rubble A canvas of destruction and idiocy He takes off his helmet and his Halloween mask And breathes the suspicious air Remnants of space stir in his head Different planets, places, pulsars Two suns, three Read more
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Southern Naked Dolls (3)
People stared at Bevin Elderberry and his creepy naked clown doll when passing by his table in the breakfast room of the hotel. Dishes clanked. There was a murmur of morning voices, and the air smelled of wet eggs and bacon. The plates of food before him didn’t stir his appetite. He was too hungover. Read more
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Lonely Motel
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Doesn’t that look lonely That orange, muddled horizon Two cars at the Americana Motel The yellow brick and brown doors Square, curtained windows A jagged neon sign Black circles and yellow arrows A lonely smear of bruised sky One that makes the heart swell And the soul inflate Broken people crawl inside Weary travelers on Read more
CEREAL AFTER SEX 