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Dirt is Life and death Sometimes we are not good did I say sometimes we are not good we are still amoebas feeding ourselves in droves the people in the other cars are real and have granfathers and thoughts just like you The people in the other cars are amoebas just like you feeding their … Read more…

Thy Just Start Poem So start something, anything. Start a worm farm, a doggy day care, a poem. It may not work out, it may stall in the middle, it may be worth nothing, it may fail, but if it’s not started, it has already failed. There may be no great meaning in this poem. … Read more…

No Whores in Doorways Poem I have no whores no cigarrette butts no subway graffitti no gutsy New York or Chicago poem no Buk no pound of flesh no whores in doorways no nights spent scratching my stubble while streets are lined with derelict lives. no dirty plates just the quiet of solitude the purpose … Read more…

In a silent room sitting in a chair being read to by no boy and too much rain,   I was at those hot gates I saw the cutlass   we don’t get out until we’ve broken all the commandments and have denied God and talked to Him   (He’s on the right side about … Read more…

It’s me, weaving on a loom. Uneasy man in an easy room. I am a concord grape and an apple in a bowl. I hear whispers of love. Take the love. Take the love and remember her hands her small fingers “Do you juice?” “Oh yes I juice.” Oh You will go there again hoping … Read more…

Hiding in another poem I come here where no one will hear me and Scream into this box and then I dry my clothes and wait for the buzzer then I whisper into this box please please please why me why trees why flowers in her hair Why Tiananmen Square I will not go there … Read more…

I remember radios with tubes and Cokes for a nickel and the smell the smell of the times The smell of oil in the gas station The dusty smell of the old store and all of those places and we wish we had a picture, but we were in too much of a hurry. Do … Read more…

“Wherefore my rhymes oft decorate the page, When others ’round, this virtue e’er forsake? Wherefore past giants of this noble art Employ this modus in their grandest works?” … “Or is it anything a writer pens, With rhythm, rhyme, and context undefined? Dear reader, now your choice is icy clear; The pow’r is yours to … Read more…

(sometimes it takes an emotional blast to reopen the right side of the brain fortunate sometimes they start slow then grown hang on with your teeth) seeing yourself in another’s eyes from, sometimes, we need to hide o eyes tortured embarrassed angry fiery in both hate and love divine both o humor god and who … Read more…

Wordplay you say was it play then was it the trees then the trees and the wind and the child playing among the roots in the dirt in the dirt in the, no, in the wind. Do all the yesterdays go back as far as all the tomorrows go forward forward forever and backward backward … Read more…