The Things We Carry

your positivity is a ruse more lies to tell yourself in the chill of early morning and lonely nights dreading your $20 an hour job wearing a pasted-on smile beneath sad eyes darkening and puffy suffering with a grin – in constant competition with people who you never cross the mind of posting photos in…

Giallo

paint her in giallo paperback binding folded back open book spread pacing through pages flipping with anticipation on edge for each new thrill revealed in stages unknown pleasures phantom stranger lurking in subtext sharp as a knife pressed against her precious neck beaded with sweat pulsing with blood engorged enflamed erogenous zones heated flushing red…

The Blue Eyes of Morning

and the blue eyes of morning blink – closing shut upon the still desolation of harsh winter storms – frozen shut – tears flowing freezing crystal streams streaking diamonds upon the pale face of sorrow – oh how the unpigmented landscape shrieks as the warmth of spring entreats allowing once more the rivers to run…

Shipwrecked Sojourner

there’s a coarse wind blowing shifting sands across a hagard shore once proud vessel cast upon salt licked rocks reduced to matchsticks waterlogged pulp splintered splayed in the hungry heat of tropic swelter rotting cancer claimed by capricorn bastard son of dead stars lost amid the calm of night a voyage ends desert isle distant…

Table for One

distinctly i recall pale lonely nights spent in silence staring through cracks between the blinds – lights dimmed listening to voices creep through the walls sealed off isolated surrounded by unacquainted nameless faces – haven’t spoken to another going on three days – doesn’t seem to bother me much – i take a seat at…

Image of Fear

brittle bone rattles baring jagged edges jutting rudely beneath ill fitting flesh and pudding paunch – obscene and unseemly unsettling reflection pallid in a stained mirror – so familiar yet foreign gazing through sullen eyes – chalky complexion chill ‘neath warm skin – it scares me truly it does – creeps on nagging

Reaching the Limit

when you reach the moon will you then be satisfied or set your sights on more distant bodies – when does progress reach its limit

Without Substance

a kiss means nothing – sex even less – the warmth of an embrace is cold – without substance

Centerpiece

i placed you in a box a cherished memory bound in unglazed earthenware in order that you may never leave me – your ashes line my pyre – your dust floats upon the very air i breathe – your death becomes my sacrifice – as your bones snap beneath my weight i will drag your…

The Old Man and the Wealth of Nations

this old man walked up to me upon exiting the restroom at the entrance of a clinic and asked me if i’d read the wealth of nations by adam smith – i responded i had not as he seized the reigns of the conversation guiding us on a torrential path careening headlong into the rocks…