Category: Creative Writing
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Sector Cereal 12
There’s only 12 left again. A pair of tulips, blue and orange. A heartbeat on two lips, river red and candy pink. A shade of warmth in her sleeping body beside me. She’s beautiful. Sonic Ocean Water blue eyes in a meadow of golden sand. And now there’s an empty blue bowl that just a Read more
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The Yellow War
She was eating a banana in the produce section. I noticed because I’ve really been into the color yellow lately. I suppose you could say it’s my favorite color now. It was green for a long time due to my inebriation for nature. Then it was blue because I like lakes and water and the Read more
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Rosaria Radiation
And it was the crack of a symmetrical dawn lepers hanging clothes with no sleeves legless pants heartless armor the sieve where all the heart pulp runs through and through straining the anguish with a lightning-tied spoon 4-leaf clovers come raining from the sky and he drives his Mercedes into a crowd of 12 oblivious Read more
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Capitalistic Splatter
The ancestral drift of dinner plates 5:15 am egg glow a smile in a mirror old antique wall ghost teeth a creepy smile an old hat in a mist a scarecrow in dawn’s early light a fake patriot cradling a cobalt bomb and a Bible in flames burnt toast in the air poems of debris Read more
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The Druid Dream Urinal Ship
The baby nearly crawled off the airport food court table because we were too busy arguing. I threw down a wrinkled five-dollar bill and told her to just leave. I had a flight to Tulsa to catch and I was beginning to panic about being late, but she just wouldn’t stop with the gnawing upon Read more
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Skeleton List
The fair light peaks at dawn this heart flattered by the rush another perilous tick tock another band of blue in a seemingly endless veil of gray say something for once say something that is real There’s a motion in the air tonight as souls weave and collapse through American freedom Tees the land of liberty Read more
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The Orange Motel
It was somewhere between Q-Town and the LA basin of all that glitters and orange grove cathedrals that there came the great snow and I was forced to shut down in some Arizona town— I was in between lives, feverishly dodging the corruption of compassion that come raining down all over the world like a Read more
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Roswell 1969
The low machine hum of the big, big city is entrenched in gaslight dawn. The birds and the killers are mum, waiting for the razor light of god’s heart to percolate and breed as the handmade souls rise, wash and run. And it was a hot day in the desert, a blowtorch sky was blowing Read more
CEREAL AFTER SEX 