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"Every revolting scent and sight is described so thoroughly, that it felt as though at that moment I was THERE. I found this book quite enjoyable... These pages have something for every reader, and I highly recommend it!"

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the 400s 

i’m well into the 400s

and i still don’t feel

          like a


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The Hobgoblin of Truth No.15

The bastard found me

As I walked out of a family


And kept pace the whole ride home

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[on a walk there was a row of ants]

on a walk there was a row of ants

millions of red specks

their legs and faces too small to see

and the line of them stretched for half

a block

ending in sandy holes alive with more of them


i thought how strange it would be

if they wrote their histories on the walls

in languages older than time

and all sang the name of their queen

billionth of her name

and move to new cracks in the sidewalk

expanding and growing the lines above

                               and below

so that they can be a part of something

that will live beyond them

to some glorious end they will never see


the clouds are fat with rain

soon all that work will be washed away

and maybe they’ll sing songs of queens

                                    long dead

before their washed into the gutters


the man you married

the car said it was 110

the day I walked around

looking for greeting cards

two of them for my anniversary


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the hounds at my desk

even now i am fighting the hounds away

snapping from the shadows

               of my desk

               my computer

their barks sound like agendas

               and paperwork

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a natural critic

the weather’s in no mood for fiction


the winds are scattering the patio furniture

               knocking them against the large glass doors

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my last day at work

there was no rain out of those

titan clouds

only lightening leaping to life

between them

coiling in and out of the coal

colored giants so far up

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Another One for the Books

Another one for the books

Another one survived

If I don’t die in the next


I’ll be on a beach

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the beach i forever share with my love


it’s been teasing me all day

in the salty bacon of a late lunch

in the grit in my eyes from the wind

in the paper hiss of the palm trees

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[the cross on the wall]

the cross on the wall

glows purple and green

and red

against a façade of stone

made to look ancient

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