Category Archive

When the birds first sing in the morning, You look about the room Where you lie. Your first conscious thoughts, Thoughts of wonder And awe at being alive. You are ecstatic with anticipation, For the things that might Come your way, And with hope You look to find beauty In this gift of another day.

Britney’s sweet & sour fog of whiskey breathe wants prisoners. Her pierced tongue is equipped with a lifetime of lies. Like saying she loves me in the bathroom stall of a bar. But I push her off knowing to go further involves ruin. A “pseudo junkie” Justine calls her which is untrue. Though methedrine / blotter acid are her trapdoors …

Via the vending maelstrom I get a blighted Portfolio poultice, An art deco Electric toothbrush, Three cut-out Culinary Square meals and A jump-to-it Confederacy Of confidence Madrigal Where nothing is As it seems – plus The usual Acidic glare From My bed-sit Night nurse Who has Madame Blavatsky’s Eyes…

I astonish myself— my socks match I have the concept socks must match and also I drive a car Someone thought the thought we should bustle about in cars Thus I make my daily runs in a practical hatchback with low mileage So many ideas speeding around the planet— somebody grabs one from a hurricane and smooths it out while …

A blackened thumb so you cannot text. A broken bone. A blackened banana. A withered vine. A plotless novel that nobody reads. A sink with no plug. A clock with no hands. A pointerless exit sign. A keyholeless keyhole. A rudderless ship that goes in circles. A whistle with no pea. A symphony without a tune. A pen with no …

She sits there on that high chair Legs elegantly crossed Her high heels, arrows of pleasure Pointing straight to hell She sips slowly fixing me to the ground with her stare Dark, hollow, blasting stare In her glass, the liquid changes colours Another sip and I slip under her spell I gladly surrender to that horrendous heat I become an …

Time and again at break of morn a coral tone will dawn adorn. Magenta heralds night’s release, a halt in sunlight’s golden fleece to moon and stars in darkness sworn. When from the living left forlorn our earthly mortal days are torn, is this a mere unsung caprice time and again, no threnody on heavens’ horn with being of existence …

a light diffuses black ..it lathers the sky that way …clouds spread like thunder

summer rain a baby sparrow’s soft chirp butterflies in silky stem the fragrance of plastic roses immigrant gardener huddled in a corner the scent of dried leaves before diagnosis the sun protrudes with its lump-sized flesh

Lives collide, bump up against each other in unusual ways. Like today, today I was looking for Ernest Dowson’s poetry. Like any good English major, I think of him in terms of his most famous line about days of wine and roses, one of those lines that people in general remember but rarely go beyond the movie to the poet …