Death and Life
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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… Continue reading
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Bread Storm
There’s the ache of rain in the air Releasing me from this summer suffocation Lightning bolts burn shocking tattoos into my skin A frozen anchor, a blonde devil I walk barefoot out onto the street All the way to the grand palace librio on the hill I pick up Hemingway’s shotgun And carry it around… Continue reading
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Lust Light, Dust Mite
When in the back of your mind you know you are dying and you try to push it away … because you are still young every breath at night is an elaborate excuse, every morning you arise is a triumph, of some sort and daddy is broken I feed him pills and artificial limbs I… Continue reading
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Midnight in March
I sometimes wonder about the blood on Mars and the indigo stilettos on the streets of New York. The ‘tack, tack, tack’ sound against the sidewalk beneath the bourbon leaves of an autumn day as I look out my open window encased in old world brown brick with crumbling mortar. I’ve been trying to rid… Continue reading
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Deities of Decision
A black building with windows of orange light played sentinel over a dark blue river at dusk in a city I did not know. It may have been Riga, Latvia or Baku, Azerbaijan or maybe even Milwaukee, Wisconsin. There were other buildings, old buildings of red and sand-colored brick defaced by time and the scourge… Continue reading
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The Moldy Oranges of God
The walls of the room where I was being kept were a sickly yellowish orange color. Perhaps more akin to the color of a bleached peach. On one of the walls was a large painting of a maniacal-looking man holding a moldy orange in each of his hands. Continue reading
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Interstellar Chin Salsa
These nerves are voiceferous and restless, like a baby with Batman, a highball hangman, make them speak, red walls with dust, a sleeping woman, a YouTube chime in the head, celestial salad raining down from space. This world all nonsense, like the gravity of a rainbow, the yoga of a leprechaun, the salsa of Chen… Continue reading
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The Last Drop
John Horatio Smith was an odd man. He sold top hats in the men’s boutique down the street. The street that streamed near Jack Kerouac’s grave. He sold top hats to idiots, to henchman, to rich and bolshy bastards eating wet cigars for an afternoon snack. John loved his work. No, he really hated it.… Continue reading
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The Sour Scarecrow
A dark day rises gallantly toward the sun. Love is tattooed on the skin of beckoning stars. Red huts line the perimeter of the crater. Down in the belly is where they grow worship plants. The royalty ships float above, the strong hulls crush the air, the flamboyant sails unfurl ahead of the breeze of… Continue reading
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The Cowmen (Three)
Inside the Camaro Saloon, Arno got caught up in an uneasy game of poker with a scroungy bunch of other cowmen. He sat at the round table topped with worn, green felt and a pile of chips in the center of it. His back was to the window, the scurrying of the mud street behind… Continue reading
cereal after sex 