Kerouac
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Ghouls
Picking awkwardberries from the tree of life A subway car injects the city with shaking souls Human fluids in the test tube With windows and lights and broken dreams and cataclysmic days Green and amber are the aching colors of another dark noc (night) Round heavens bloodied with tar Heroin tracks are stars Red forests… Continue reading
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The Lyric at the End of Land
He made it with her in the bathtub because she was bleeding. That animal. That gyrating, groaning animal. It was that negative breeding. She pulled him in, he slapped against her. They breathed, they kissed, they tangled. When they were done, they stayed in and showered. The water felt like rain against them, tasted of… 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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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 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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Elvis in Atlantis
I saw Elvis making crop circles in Atlantis from the window of my pink wooden house Continue reading
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Lights and Dreams and Time
Two years straight and it still feels like the very first time I touched her. We drifted off clutching each other tight. Then we turned to sleep, our asses touching, the warmth of her back like a campfire. I listened to her breathe as I looked up at the purple stars of pretend. Continue reading
cereal after sex 