Creative Writing
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Fine Meats
A cool, wet street The sound of tires splashing through the rain One lone car up the road, toward the hill, and the gray church that stands there at the top like some great Lord of life, overlooking the world Neon glowing, gold and red, reflecting A butcher shop on the sidewalk Fine Meats it… Continue reading
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Desolation Ra
Dusk casts a copper-scented glow The passing on the paneled facade gently burns Memories on construction paper taped to the wall Desolation speaks in whispers The hour where time stands still The sun is an orange disc like Ra Then sinks into a death-yellow horizon Sipping darker colors moment to moment Until night finally falls Continue reading
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The Forever Fly
A Mach One goblin of green by the name of Edward Groovy sits in a city diner and looks out at the rain as he thinks about loneliness and all the fragments of his life. There were the days when he installed carpet, drank on the job, daydreamed of faraway places that can only be… Continue reading
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The Green Brick Road
Flittering filth and glass lenses. The dais waits under fuzzy white light. The podium is propped. The whole of the stage is green. The audience whispers of ghost sightings and Christmas cookies on a white plate with a red and green design. A glass of milk gently shakes; a ripple forms across the top of… Continue reading
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Free Falling in a Mall
You can’t say “write like magic” It isn’t right to be so tragic And Nob Hill hip And Q-Town super fresh So write like magic despite the tetherships of the world I ache to conjure up all the words I need for literary architecture Why doesn’t my mind simply bleed? It’s a spring dream these… Continue reading
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Rural West Texas
Rural West Texas. Flat. Brown. Isolation. Lost dreams. Ragged old motels. Dirty convenience stores with the lingering scent of unruly humans. Fast-food restaurants with a glaze of stickiness one cannot wipe away. A restroom door that will not lock. Someone has to stand guard. High school football stadiums are the apex of architecture here. Looking… Continue reading
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Light To The Gray
Beehive morning Cold, gray, wet Remembering stars still spinning Dreams in deadlock I just can’t recall the colors or the shapes Somehow something about my mother again And her crucifixion for an innocent life Cold coffee on the desk Cold air through the window Cold skin Cold bones Wife sleeping in the background We churn… Continue reading
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Soul House
There was a dark, lonely road of dirt that led to a bright spot at the end. There were leaves, turned sour and clotted in the mud. The road was lined with black trees, leaning in, almost like an arch, and at the end of the road rose up a white house – old, a… Continue reading
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Vagrant In Hell
The psithurism of the autumn forest flutters as the madmen of the otherworld profit from global uncertainty. I drive the point of a walking stick into the ground and take a breath or two. Eyes gazing outward and around. The forest is wet and orange. The trunks of the trees a slick black and gray.… Continue reading
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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… Continue reading
cereal after sex 