M.A.L.ediction of My Offense, Many of Whom are Entering Us
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens,
by millions and millions more subpoenas,
to wash it white as snow?
writing
I write poetry, creative non-fiction, memoir, and experimental surrealism, from the perspective of a male survivor of childhood sexual abuse.
eagles toppling mountain goats
he came up on
an eagle on a sandbar
looking over his shoulder
bloody beak dripping
with dead cormorant...
We Begin
that was how it started, this is how it started, that death, this death, two points, on an imaginary line, only one point, on a circle, a clock...
The Custom of Violence
In the earliest grades he was a bit of a bully. If his family hadn’t moved he likely would have continued on a trajectory towards becoming a very bad person. However, and somehow, the move to another state affected him in such a manner that he effectively began learning how to be a human being.
The Saddest Piss in the World
i’m standing in a dark closet dreaming / dreaming like a monkey / what a monkey sounds like / what a monkey sounds like when it stubs it’s toe
Queequeg, Cleopatra, and Xerxes Walk Into a Bar
We were poor. Number 10-sized cans of mealy, sinewy, chicken guts, peanut butter, and powdered eggs. Embarrassing standing in line to pick it all up.
At the Enduro
Most people think they know what makes a haiku, and most of them are wrong.
Does It Matter if You Touch the Ashes? I Did Not Touch the Ashes
i took my dead mother for a walk last week at Land’s End, by chance i was just looking for easy access water to dump her in to dissolve her, i guess was the intention i didn’t give it that much thought
Adagio
A MAN crosses towards the table from UP STAGE RIGHT. He is wearing underwear under a long, flowing silk bathrobe, open at the front. He stops to the RIGHT of the table. He takes a flower in his right hand, smells it, brushes his face with it, then drops it on the floor to his left.
The Tyranny of Words
The dog was on a leash but I gave it wide berth. I don't like dogs. I'm afraid of them. I don't mind admitting that.
Here's Lookin' at You, Kid
I don’t have writer’s block. I have writer’s fright.
The Fause Knight on the Road
‘O WHARE are ye gaun?’ Quo the fause knicht upon the road.