Published in an Anthology

•August 17, 2019 • Leave a Comment

Hello,

I was recently published in a poetry anthology featuring Ohio Poets.

It can be found here on their website:

https://www.zpublishinghouse.com/?rfsn=2157846.fb9fa2

or here on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1087306078

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The Smugglers

•August 17, 2019 • Leave a Comment

The Smugglers,
no haste in heart,
short retreat repents,
a natural night rains slurry,
quadrupeds habitat,
dove crowding handrail,

magical supine,
trapped in Mongolia,
the safety of cloth,
wooden lattices,
verily we watch us,

avail the embodiment,
the frost enters soon,
our taken hearts beat,
so I carve it in wood,
the night long and drawn,

each Donna brought more,
we laughed at the old,
chewing eggs ridiculous,
five dollars is enough,
hand-in-hand we love,

trod the valley’s girth,
beyond great skies,
greatness within hours,
unnatural continents below,
staring at our faces,
like thousands before,

this recharge: a song,
a moment in time’s drum,
only one sight smiles,
drunk on you always,
safari in Ohio’s azure,

this beaten moment’s muse,
magical back-masking,
a poet sinking into crime,
the ringleader soft,
recapture butterflies,

in periphery we sink,
the coated lens green,
fortune still on the coast,
bastards we laugh as one,
dreaming of each moment,

yes to the smells that day,
madness gripping our twin,
sorrow for caged lives,
while horizons await,
yet we smile loud,

yet we fight death’s light,
yes we walk the path,
the coolness on our heads,
the warmth at our feet,
the love swept up between,
the smugglers refrain

Friday Writing Pinball; 2004

•July 5, 2019 • Leave a Comment

Here’s something I wrote back in Feb of 2017. Enjoy.

eclecticismgunfight

I started when it was dark, and I told the truth,

when I should have described it instead, I hear

every teacher I ever had, writing classes taught

me self-loathing habits, a full focus on how to

be yourself, while others misinterpret, and all

I am left with is a stack of papers, connected at

the corners by mismatched staples, or would it

be better to tell you how they smelled; I could,

but you’ve smelled paper, not imagine out loud.

If practice perfects you, then the more exposition

ensures a kill, Bambi, heart writing, explodes

in the reader’s mind, stimulating their neurons,

or something else, I didn’t research it, so now

I look like a hack; so here’s an allusion: chop

me down to size, so here’s a reason to forgive:

cliched love, notice I didn’t accent it? I’m not

sure any of them are proud, even if they…

View original post 79 more words

Bastards Betraying Youth

•June 26, 2019 • Leave a Comment

As I approach yet another birthday, here’s a thing I wrote about the last one.

fuck middle age,
wrinkles conspicuous,
faces like used leather,
gray beards, hair, faces,
balls,

forgotten youth,
trampled by
up-and-coming

assholes, fervent
pickled cocksure
men, waggling
their flaccid penises

but we,

pouty, pursed lips,
singing ballads from
decades old radio
shows,
masturbate each
other in front
of loving women,
who hold us tight
at night when we
smile and pretend
not to cry,

ringing in my ears,
I hang up the phone,

fuck your parties.

I’m not coming.

not to rub our elbows,
and talk about old fart
shit, pretend our
faces are dragging
in sand, fat, dripping
cancerous truths,

“Is this gluten free?”

fuck you…
this art sucks,
painted by children,
pretending to hurt,

next is 50, I’ll
take it and run,
burn down the
house, dancing cripple

it’s got to be better than
this death,

pour me a beer,
it’s getting late

I Whispered it to Myself

•June 16, 2019 • Leave a Comment

An empty coffee cup, placed

above board bland,
inside a cupboard,
“Stress… What Stress?”
it smiles, frantic man
stenciled pale,
lightning strikes, prolific
designers halo head,
majestic magnet,
in ancient years, eras
long fraught with a pastiche
of sanguine, saccharine,
longest time I ever had,
it’s all that is left of him,

empty, yet stained still,

from drops of roasted
love, a joke to mental illness,
everyone laughed, I always
had that strength, once
when any of it mattered,
gifts for a day I will never
be, no breakfast for me,
no ties, no games in the rain,
I’ll laugh with them in a
dream, then wake up free,
at least I have one left,
one time, stinging reminder,
no satisfaction to even bother,

but my stomach breathes

warmly, now, today I
remember it,
and I remember

all that was you

It is in This Chasm…

•June 5, 2019 • Leave a Comment

It is in this chasm, the light’s misspelled,

a drunken beam brushes our loneliness,

like a sailor in the vastness of vast seas,

we push among the waves’ darkest blue,

fuel for carrion and teeth for deciduous,

the skunk-sun pisses rainbows from high,

as we pass dying vagrants on each curb,

we whisper our song-tune to one another,

it is great and boundless, vapid and dull,

sunken like ships from dark watch doom,

feral and rotten, wistless and buffooned,

it is in this chasm, our hearts line in sight

of each other, every corpulent hug a skip

to the next one, a monkey’s paw trapped

about dirt with a hand glance sad trance,

masterfully whipped and blooding verbs

sank and sunk, attached to our lung’s eye,

we are the struggles of modern lighting

troubles, our presence a comedic routine

sat perfunct and perfuse, at a late night

dive bar, anachronistic our every move,

it is in this chasm, that I am grateful for

you, for your chatter morning teeth face,

plodding math return, sunken wet eyes

wishing for one more try, late night boor

beauty, snapped in ambrosia, lovely, wit

and brain sanctity, love beats me bloody

about your presence, I hand hold hell all

of it hard, until you return safe and saving

Grocery Story

•May 28, 2019 • Leave a Comment

An old one about anxiety and love.

eclecticismgunfight

At the grocery store in September,
it’s not charmed, nor am I charming,
well, not at least to myself, but she
says I am, she says a lot of things
about who I am, what I do, and all
the things I can do, like this, and
that, and then this again, just like
this, actually, and she smiles again,
and looks at my face, and says my
skin looks nice in this light, and
I feel my ears get hot, and I smile
at her smile, and tell her that I am
scared, but then no words come out,
so I look silly, and I remember my
location in this world; planet; a
scope larger than my charming
nature, eyes upon eyes looking at
me, waiting for me to say something,
or burst out in laughtertearspanic;
in the line, surrounded by peering
and sneering old women, toddlers,
I’m in…

View original post 133 more words