I jackknifed your already crooked stance…
Resurfaced your tight-roped gray matter…
Swale of hell?
I can’t distinguish.
I masticate Eros and Ice
Then vomit empty.
My right is uninhabitable,
My left requires a plumb line…
Perhaps an Ancile, too.

Posted in Poetry | 4 Comments

Father def:void

stomach: pit fall

soul: twitch

shallow: necrosis

(reminding emptiness)

You: here

Me: where

exist: synonymous to my perception

puncture me

Deflate: balloon-flop

Ear tear:
ice-coated rhetoric

experience: endure the tightrope

aim less for shade

you or me?

Posted in Poetry | 3 Comments

Healthy Relations

I am obsessed with the helping verbs.

I am having a tortured, sadistic relationship with them.

I over use these words in my poetry and novels;

Do they oppress me, too?

Being, been, shall, have…

Am, is, was, were; I exist.

Am is was – I exist

I am here – I exist

I is – I exist

To be – I exist

I do not want to be –  I exist anyway

Posted in Poetry | 4 Comments


With a pen betwixt my fingers,
armed between my lightning rods,
I am unstoppable,
indestructible, and furious…
No massacres in prose will I fail to deliver… yes, there will be bloodshed… I am not shatter-able.

Posted in Poetry | 6 Comments


The bell-shaped glass…

has displaced a shard…

any attempt at advancement

draws first the link by force

then the being-sideways,

off-kilter, rendering all insufficient.

I cannot be found anywhere.


Posted in Poetry | 8 Comments

Ode to a Crutch

They shield my eyes from the

blistering scorch of the sun’s sinful rays;

an invisible barrier in front of my weary encircled eyes,

I use their darkness to hide

from the exposing bright lights.

They are a comforting veil to conceal my soul,

except at night when their function becomes obsolete.

I drag them through my daily life;

what I would do without them, I cringe at the thought.

If without, even for a day,

I would feel unprotected like my cloak of hiding,

my cellophane shield, were missing.

My naked shame would be bared for all to see.

I guard them closely, not because they are expensive,

or bare the evidence of a designer’s hour spent in creation;

their material value is nothing to me.

For the protection they offer,

is priceless.

Posted in Poetry | 2 Comments

First Day

the confidence of a child learning to crawl
in a snake filled pit.
A room full of monsters.
Where to go?
Where can I pretend to hide?
The bathroom is dilapidated,
It smells of cigarette smoke and useless teen angst.
The girls are brimming with hate,
The boys are too distracted to notice.
Someone lights a wrinkled cigarette,
The air becomes lighter.
My shyness seems to fade.
Happiness is inhaled.

Posted in Poetry | 6 Comments