October 2011
6 posts
The world of the Fenian Cycle is one in which professional warriors spend their time hunting, fighting, and engaging in adventures in the spirit world. New entrants into the band are expected to be knowledgeable in poetry as well as undergo a number of physical tests or ordeals. There is not any religious element in these tales unless it is one of hero-worship.
the street corners are mashing together like the gears inside the head of some omniscient engineer
September 2011
7 posts
April 2011
1 post
March 2011
3 posts
virginia heard it all
Torn between sobbing and rapt attention to the words
bloom-washing onto the walls inside of her eye,
she painted her own life in the most literal way she knew
she was The Favorite of a Queen in her youth, before she was a Gendering Aristocrat Poet and Emissary to Constantinople,
the frames for her to be an Epitomy of
Man, Woman and Child, Lover,
of Humanity- exploritory and otherwise-
and...
The Behavior of Others
One night, my father and I stayed to drink in the autumn air after dinner on the patio. He was a whirlwind man when he chose to be, and so tonight’s shared silence was, for the first time, calming. As his wife cleared the dishes from the table, the quiet passed into mutual seduction by a shadow of will each one had caught passing the other’s face. He nodded the woman off to bed and a six-year-old...
rosie getting closer
I’ve been left in the white lobby of the home with the rest of the residents that are confined to chairs. The ones who can walk are clucking out on the patio, waiting for the vans that take us to the YMCA. I can see them through the sliding glass doors. Around me are the four others in chairs. Two of them have their heads tucked into their shoulders, fast asleep. One of them is staring through the...
February 2010
6 posts
Serving Time
dead of winter coldest night wrapped up into the tent of some wise people or so they seemed.
beneath, he cannot know, nor do they, but he plays along, hums to their song, wonders quietly if this is where he belongs
none here can answer his silent query, that’s far from the tip of the knife in this night of clear, dry, sharp upon his face.
the truth lies in the asking the sky mutes, but only...
Irving Park and Western
I love the Chicago crazies high above the crazies of Los Angeles.
Those here, impaired, have nothing to hide.
“I thought that book was Jewish, you had it at an angle,” he spoke from atop his work boots and pixellated camo pants, “I saw this Filipino woman on TV, I tried to cross my legs like her but I cant do that.” He shook his head in wonder.
He had acupuncture once, in his bad leg. It helped...
Loud White People
I was back at college and it was the first day, where all of the freshman and their parents oggle the campus together and there are usually a cluster of random activities where everyone sits on the local huge patch of grass at talks about how awesome college is. Only I had already graduated and I was going back. Again. To start from the begining.
I didn’t know anyone but my mother and the...
Hermit, Bear Spirit
Once upon a time, a time long ago, when all the world was a but a great and tangled forest, and all those that lived in it worshipped equally great spirits of that forest, there lived a young hermit.
One day, as the hermit was out walking through the trees, tracking a rabbit and her brood to collect their droppings, he came upon a new and very strange trail that had burrowed its way through the...
Touched: An Excerpt
(note: still in early editing stages, forgive the tense change, still figuring out voice and tone)
I watched tonight’s attendant, Dora, bounce around my mint-colored room. She talked a lot about her failed marriage, about her daughter’s childlessness. She’d ask me questions but they seemed to be mostly for her sake so I didn’t respond. I never had children of my own, anyway. Mostly I just...
a boy and his king
One day the king was walking through a meadow when a young boy sprang from no where, appearing at his side. the king continued walking, the boy keeping step, and asked “Boy, how do you know me? Why do you walk by my side?” The boy pushed through the tall grass and thought for a moment. They passed a long stick and the boy swooped it up and began swinging it like a sword. “Perhaps I know you from...
December 2009
1 post
Strays
Last night,
we walked in at 3 am
stumbling and saying rude things,
we put a drunk to bed and
we followed me into my cave
under the stairs
my chest creaked at
Bear’s glare
but I turned back to face
one of many scarecrows
I couldn’t get hard but his
straw busted out of his asshole,
electrified my fingertips.
“Why you doing this?” he asked,
and I mumbled something about a husbear,
I...
November 2009
9 posts
1 tag
When I woke up one morning, about five years ago, I noticed that everyone had become a little bit invisible. I wondered if someone had been fiddling around with time.
Rape
No one deserves to be raped.
Unless they want to be.
Sometimes,
I think I want to be.
Raped.
It doesnt sound like it would be so terrible.
I suppose I am lucky I have never been.
Raped.
Thoughts on Wings
There seems to be
something
comforting
about wings
like a cape
concealing the air of some foreign dimension.
I mean Big Wings,
as big as sprawling emptiness,
wings that dont just ride the breeze but create it for the
rest of the world’s population of gliders.
Even when wings are black as horns
they are still comforting,
they just seem closer.
*******
I remember a time when I...
Gather
This moaning matriarch
grows stronger as her
boyhood shame
quietly hangs
hidden beneath the drapes.
Gather, children, at her skirt tales
and take her sway.
This is warmth,
giving what that
blindfold christening
can only promise.
Here, now, in the glowing dark,
her voice floods the room
and washes up your calves.
Soon, though, your need
pours into each other.
You’d thank the...
a boy and his demon
Wild stripe?
This is the name of a small
smiling
winged creature
whose heart explodes out of his ears everyday.
Hes been following our subject around since the beginning of time
but decided to stay close at hand
once he hit the shore.
Little did oursubject know
the demon was born into the world
in the same moment and
if the same orifice as he.
They used to play as children.
Slowly,
...
Once she told me that my accidental visions came in clearer than the words I drummed from my tongue into my palm. This fact seared me so I laughed in her face at the impossibility of it. Hers was a silly declaration, as my visions came and went with the regularity of a bee bouncing amongst the flowers in the field. They came only when I was shunning some other task and drew clearer as they slipped...
Across the Table
You’re a shivery little bird,
Its true
The world around you seems to fizzle and pop
With the chaos of some storm of
Barbed wire cotton ball.
Buried deep inside of this
Frequent nightmare
Is one scared little bird
pecking out her feathers.
Evergreen Punch
Go
Seek the soil in your oil,
Its seeping out,
Pushing in
It struggles, the from the tip of his nose
Its not enough
It burns
Let it push
The soil people
Their windows,
They fill every room
They want to return
Clay and Jay,
They’ve left the road behind
Pulled by those soil people living at the very tip-most surface,
Hiding in the wings
They’ll forget what concrete smells like
Is...
October 2009
5 posts
Chances
Oh boy
Oh boys
Oh long sweaty dicks
with legs,
those tight hollow skins
in acid wash leggings and
neon splash gunslings,
some giant robot belts and dips,
you all follow in suit
waiting for one slendery smooth
flashbulb
kickbox
factory to walk in and
you’ll all die happy.
Flipp
First upon a time,
you shuffled and you flipped
for your own sense of certainty.
confused,
I made you
mine
and now I want to cry.
I wish I didnt have
to try,
I wish I knew
that I could fly.
I wish that he would
die.
I wish my heart
would release
its
vice on my balls.
I want to love you
fearing I dont.
I do.
I want you to
love me,
I fear that you
dont.
Do you?
purest formational apologies
to create, to illicit from the bottom of the swamp, the pit, so silent at the surface but churning beneath, oh, the pithy sway and common stock wait, no, the rumble on until they stumble upon or click at their desk, this generation’s gestation from their beds, all miniature talking heads, give to do it yourself in the attic no more, stench of home and chromozone drenched child sloth stasis...
Wilstripes, Vol. 3
My father’s fingers rapped the table in a heavy drum, his gray head tilted slightly and his gray eyes unfocused. The fire shadows flickered on the high walls of the dining hall, echoes of the endless hours of cyclical arguments that had worn both of us out. But I could feel him silently stirring in there, swirling and lapping with the suck of a drainpool. At one point I thought he was asleep...
Do I see you watching a cage fight curled up in my legs?
Hoot and gloat and hide your face, all tangled web of men
Busted cheeks and giggle feet,
We roll around and howl
The fights over and
We’ve collapsed,
a synchopatic
hum of
sleep.
September 2009
6 posts
A Case of Angles
Fingering shadows or rimming whispers
mutually pitched, I’d say
Some say demon joy bubbles the waves
tickles the brook
laps the magma
But evenly matched wont cut it making offerings at both trees
Rooted and shiftless
your fingers dig at their soils
finding
curled
pushing
worms
falling from your tongue
Crossing
I waited all day for you to call but didn’t think to tell you of this fact until 5 pm.
Then you were late calling and I unleashed the sickly hounds and you had a bearded gentleman caller at the door.
I waited for you to realize that I was more important, but it became another fact I forgot to mention. Besides, I had to wait until the raging middle aged woman with exposed roots stopped...
Prologue
The suns hung low in the morning, their beams just starting to pierce the crisp air to dry my muddy boots and the wet forest floor. After a small breakfast of stale bread and icy water scooped from a shallow stream, I picked the stones and brambles from my uniform that had collected in the weeks following the purge. I watched the sky as I headed further east. I had been marching about an hour when...
Streamer Shadows
He doesnt jog through my head
he stands there,
watching me look the other way
seeming to know I wont be looking back
and there
I feel the rub in the purple bags my eyes have packed.
Im suspicious because it is the absence that I notice,
its the empty air all around me,
not the human things that used to pour from it.
Its the eyes in my head
his white pallor shoulders,
waiting for those...
Wild Stripes Vol. 2
Three weeks off of the wooden sea vessel and I still felt closed in by strangers.
This land hasnt seen trade in decades, now beggars and whores litter the bleached pavement, starving, watching each other, waiting for the next to die.
I had exchanged the padded flannel for a room tucked into the Subnurmals, a district at the outskirts of the city. I was told this area was the epicenter of the...
Short Lovely Things
A bug in the drawer screamed something black and it shot out of him, gun totting blind fear, conclaving fur that sprout out his head, twitching with confusion
Wrapped around each other, the corners of his mouth gave way to the lightest kind of jowls, his hands on his chest are crossed for rest but still warm, feeling his heart beat against his back.
Best buds barely dressed, there his hands...
August 2009
6 posts
Some Heady Magic
Good morning, Monday, my Monday, my milky midwest Monday. Today you take my Monkey from me, today you take my world. My glowing gal, with purple breasts and bloated lips, with black base red hair, rage and set, all lichtenstein composure and devil may care.
“I think we’re all in shock.”
A storm of billions of ants tumbling through the air sweep through me and I cant see the sky, passed, gone,...
Murder at the Park
I keep shifting
in my crazy creek
lifting my head
up and over
in an effort to see
two thirds of
the bloody shower scene,
“Mother! Oh, God, Mother!
Blood! BLOOD!”
through a
black-on-cityscape sillouette,
a jagged picket fence
bending and stretching to challenge my vision.
How's East LA?
Such as Claudio: a baron wasteland of swirling hardened despair and crumbling walkways of oil ridden pork slaughter houses. alive the cries of trampled dreams and bastard children
Such and Claudio: all in all, not bad
