Author Archives
Writings. Often within the intersection between fiction and non-fiction.
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Drowning Poem
I found myself drowning In a sea of love And like the Nautilus I couldn’t get help from above But unlike the Nautilus It wasn’t a major expedition I went to a fishing hole I was only fishing.
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Epilogue
My father Sinking in After all these years Him again.
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Lynn and Hun’s Porch
I. In the city of white, The streets are wide White and low, And the sky Hangs wide White and low. And Lynn waters his flowers: They grow, Like wild jungle creepers To mumble of the show, As cars rumble… Read More ›
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Sidewalk
Slick Black Shoes Chat Click Clack Click Clack
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I Feel Like Hanging Myself
I feel like hanging myself In a closet. Maybe behind the door, On a strong steel hook, Dangling off the floor, Or drawn through A wooden hanger, So I wouldn’t crease, Drooping, limber, lifeless, Till all movements cease, Till like… Read More ›
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Julius Swope’s Station
Who asked for the maddening dance of Swirling summer leaves And huge pre-storm rain droplets Bashing against a dizzying jumble of Dented cars and old farm trucks. Hovering under a tormented awning, I am captured by the abrupt swell, A surprised spectator,… Read More ›
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Patty Hearst
I imagine you sitting shoeless On the weathered steps Of a sparse plank porch, Lost in a spider’s web Of bad, back county roads Where water pumps And outhouses Are just another slice Of homemade bread. Only in my mind… Read More ›
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Pamela Poem
I love you/ I hate you I’m inconsistent that way; I’m a merry-go-round Up and down each day. I ignore you/ I adore you I can’t keep it straight; You’re a bowl of mixed vegetables Carrots awful, peas great.
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The Lion and the Porcupine
Opps! Look at me — As I turned to trot, Tail swishing sly, That horn-rimmed, steel quilled Porcupine Pricked My Impregnable hide, Opening me wide, And A pretentious roar Turned cold And An adolescent Coughed.
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Illusions
I saw myself a tiger, You said, lamb, instead; I saw myself a dagger, Butter knife, you said.
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Attraction/Repulsion
I was always kind of negative (Just another peculiarity of life) And at the slightest friction I would become heated And explode And bite. You were always kind of positive (A delicate if not remarkable host) When you were… Read More ›
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On what the blind hear and the deaf see
When you looked over — as if to talk, I stared at the coffee table, Hiding behind the chocolate Splattered glasses, Creeping over the spaghetti Crusted plates, Sneaking in amongst the torn Pages of a People Magazine. Sometimes Like the… Read More ›
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The Explanation
He shovels his walk Like an old man, Pleased at having Something to do with His hands and mind, Grateful for the excuse To stand in the winter sun And peer at salt-crusted cars.
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Lover
She sticks out through the sores, Though the room is full of blisters. She seeps through the stench Of the pus-people, Removing the filth bandage, Reviving the gangrene limbs, Restoring two hundred pounds To a bed-ridden invalid.
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Fishies
I swim in her lips I swim along She swallows my movement She swallows my song
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The Bar/The Dance
She wags her ass In front of his nose Like some bitch in heat Shimmering Shimmering Until his wild eyes cloud And his nostrils flair Swimming Swimming Until he lurches forward In his crude doggy paddle Humping straddle Humping straddle… Read More ›
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Early Spring
Window watching Whisper white snow Blowing — In whirls and twirls Onto a slick, wet road, Flowing — Mush, waiting, Dripping drops of slush Down a drain pipe grating. Window watching Whisper white snow Flying — Through the tangled,… Read More ›
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Inadequacy
Why do I do the things I do? Like see- ing you and me pass through the sum- mer to- gether as two. Risking jail to send won- ders through the mail to you and flow- ers too. Calling up… Read More ›
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The Attack
He struck Like a machine gun Splattering the plates Across the floor. She sits wounded At the table Of a bloody Battlefield.
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Inadequacy Too
I wish I knew why I think you are so beau- tiful? I do. When I’m with you that pow- er you attract me to in you, into me it flows, soo- thing, yet confu- sing me all through. As… Read More ›
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Arguments
There was a moment When I was three feet away When a buddy-check Would have saved the day
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In the Spring
I thought we were two through summer, though fall I felt your sting. I tried revival all winter, but I couldn’t survive a thing, and just when I thought blossoms arrived, the skies cried this spring.
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Living Poem
I don’t live in the East I don’t live in the West I live in my head And it suits me best
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Tired Old Black Lady
Tired old black lady Walking down the street Moving kind of slow On her tired old, long- Suffering black feet. Tired old black lady Five children mother Black purse in one hand Tiny wife handkerchief In her other. … Read More ›
