Travel
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Lonely Motel
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… Continue reading
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A Boxer In the Dark of the Car
There’s something about lemonade in the summer that just hits me. Like right now, I can see the glass pitcher with the lemony yellow liquid inside. Someone is stirring it with a spoon. A glass full of ice cubes sits on the counter. Someone picks up the pitcher and pours the lemonade in the glass.… Continue reading
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The Lake Blue Animating Principle
this angel skull of Harlem doesn’t sing or sink like the wind. it’s laundry day in Manitowoc, the MAT is down by the old Navy ship resting in its watery grave and the sky and the rain is so damn gray and sad as I hoist canvas bag over shoulder like some old-time dirty clothes… Continue reading
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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… Continue reading
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Awkward Llamas
She is fireworks over a city that sits like candles torchlit and like flames. She is a walk on a quiet street in the dark with murals of Dylan in her head. She is quiet glances out a window, sleep drifts, warm against me in the rain of our devotion. She is life as I… Continue reading
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The Long Dawn
A long morning yawns its mallow yellow yawn out there on the grass where the trees and the heart live, out there where the mad heat melts the orgy moon and capsizing starships. It was a day where I felt my guts reeling in agony and worry. I had been at the hip girl’s room… Continue reading
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Strawberry Safari
“This won’t be on you. I’ll take full responsibility. I’ve already written my family a certified letter stating that I may do something crazy in Africa, but it’s no one’s fault but my own.” Continue reading
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Tomah Graph
Censor me still-lifetake my Tomah Graphswimming in the Hollywood Holiday Inn poolnow drowning in a pool of my ownpainful frustrations and jittersuninvited guests in the gray of nightthis brain hurts like cinema for Alexhave another stick of chewing gumanother stick of dynamite to ease the griefyou so gallantly feel at this momentthese white office lights… Continue reading
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Tecumah (1.)
“You’re the immigrant,” he snarled in a wild, earthy way. “And I’ll gladly knock you back to Europa.” Continue reading
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The Chronicles of Anton Chico (American Soil)
I smelled like the remnants of a wild fiesta. Continue reading
cereal after sex 