Writing
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Ms. Grundy and the Bone Ghosts (1)
The first thing that Mary O’Shea did as she drove away from the old Grady place was light a cigarette. She cracked the driver’s side window and exhaled. The wind sucked the smoke away. “Crazy old bitch,” she said aloud to herself. Continue reading
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Blowtorch Pastoral
Blowtorch Pastoral is a space I created to post some of what I consider to be my more serious writing. Continue reading
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Red Rubber Concerto
Beauty is in basketslying all over the worlda tumbler of goodwilla shot glass of decencylined along the barof distant scars the marathon jubileepounds the ribbon strips grayacross bridgesand country laneslaced with the structure of Big BrotherNostradamus and Orwellian patriotsrolling pool balls across the lawnwhilst Beethoven wails to the skylife is buta red rubber concertokick your… Continue reading
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The Infinity of Gilligan, Godzilla, and Gruyere
Monster Magnet is playing the song Space Lord as they ride a green comet around the planet. Continue reading
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The Tepid Hemorrhage
I am an anonymous donorspreading my seed of grief across the worldand I might as well be blindfor all I see is black,the rubber room menacerotating on some wobbly wheeland my gifts have all been opened by other peopleand I sit and watch in a pile of gold paperremembering the uncle who shot himselfthe cousin… 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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Neverland
When you want to be someonebut no one knows who you really arewhen you’re living in the wormthat lives in your own bellydrinking dirtand eating poison winecrying to livelaughing to dieand everything insidevanishesand you feel likeyou’re living in a Neverlandwith a never hatand a never coatand you’ve spent every dime you ever hadwasting time strolling… Continue reading
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The Crowns of Pluto (4.)
The trees were immense and varied, the works of genius minds and artists, somehow altered by chemical gravity to bloom quickly like a porcelain doll with animal organs. Continue reading
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The Crowns of Pluto (2.)
There are times that I feel as if I’m just filling in the gaps between birth and death. But then I thought about it deeply and realized that is what we are all doing. Continue reading
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The Skyscrapers of Henry Miller
Airplanes streaking across the sky on the same warm summer day wrecking balls sexing up dirty brick walls all in the name of pain, windowpane Continue reading
cereal after sex 