(with Robyn Leigh Lear)

Hell's gonna be a hot place––
we're all standing shoulder-to-shoulder,
getting older and older––
And who gives a fuck what age we are?

Because infinity is inevitable
and I am ineligible
despite the truth and the age
that we are.

Because I am a piece
of this living world,
wanting to know
that there's a piece in your heart––

Standing shoulder-to-shoulder
with me in the back,
trading secrets,
trading smack.


An Address and a "Set List"

Dear Blog Readers,

I just want to take the time to say: "thank you" for all of your pageviews––they mean everything to me.  An update on me: I am doing very well here in Nashville––and, although this blog might not be telling of it, I have been writing feverishly over the past six months and am now up to 100,000 words on my current, novellic project, tentatively entitled This Life in Shadows (completion date hopefully by the end of the calendar year).  There has also been some murmurs of an art show coming to Nashville this November, which Yours Truly has been asked to read at.  Because of this, I, being the obsessive preparer that I am, have compiled a list of 12 poems in a certain order, to be read at the event, which, since I am at a loss for words, have deemed my "set list," and it is as follows (each one a link):

1. Mushaboom Girl
2. Here at Twilight
3. Integer Collection
4. Bliss
5. Conjoined at the Hip
6. Aftermath
7. In the Rearview
8. Lovely
9. Same Ornaments
10. this is peace.
11. No Sun
12. all because empty roses lie idly

Thank you all so much for your continued support!  More details about the art show coming soon!




So much wasted thought
on delusion––
I want the truth!
The whole truth!
Nothing but the truth!

So help me,
return to me,
for so far
it's been
a troubled stint,
a mind a-fixed,
a life in splints,
a hurrying
and all that
madness brings.
And it's in me
like thrusting,
a knife twisting
and pulsing,
oh lovely,
comfort me,
I don't want to be
amid so much
that I let
madness win.



Us humans,
we're used to getting away with things
we're used to getting away with things
          used to getting away with things
                  to getting away with things
                  t' getting away with things

but ha-ha-ha!
the all-seeing eye!
and blah-blah-blah!
what are these, signs?

Us teenagers,
we're used to getting away from things

          used to getting away from things
                  t' getting away from things
                  t' getting away from things

but oh-oh-no!
the world is one!
yet oh-ho-ho!
such a large sun!

Us children,
we're used to getting our way with things

                  t' getting our way with things
                     getting our way with things
                                 our way with things

is so nah-nah-nah!
this world is mine!
is so bah-bah-bah!
baby, rock-a-bye!

Us great-grandfathers,
we're used to getting our pay from things
we're used to getting our pay from things

                  t' getting our pay from things
                                       pay from things
                                       pay from things

and ah-ah-ah!
the world balances out!
and yeah-yeah-yeah!
it all comes back around!

but we're used to getting away with things
      we're used to getting away from things
                       t' getting our way with things
                                            pay from things



Even Thieves

even thieves sleep
in the evening
with the lights out.

even gods frolic
in the daylight
when the sun's out.

even men feel
in the sunshine
when the wine's out.

even dreams make
a sip of wine taste
like the fun's out.


No Sun

All the aborted fetuses––
and all of the immortal souls
all the convictions
and all the predictions
of what's to come,
all the heartened prologues
and all the daunted school girls
fixing their hair in bathroom mirrors––
unaware of their infinite
souls uplifting.

And I'm here to tell you that
you've been one of them before,
your cowhide leather,
your cowback fat lunch,
your wine in the evening
when all is said and done.

And I'm here to tell you to
lie back,
rest some,
before hate takes you,
breaks you,
and causes your soul
to unwind.

What they've done to them,
you've done to them first
a trillion years ago
when the night
had no sun.


Shriveled in Blue

And I guess I'm gonna get away with this night too,
shriveled in blue,
my heart understood,
my mind delicate too.

And I guess I'm gonna be there when you do too,
slightly aloof,
always in tune.

And I guess they're gonna be there when I'm through,
oh so deep in rue,
for life is askew,
and this earth is my tomb.

And I guess we'll finally find out what's true,
even if it's just us few,
while we lie in our rooms,
our minds dissolving these clues.

And I guess that's just that:
us two always doomed,
forever entombed,
though we've gotten used to the gloom.



it’s so hard to be
good in this world
it’s frightening
i wake up most days
with my head underwater
tapping at the glass, breathing in salt––
am I the only one?

i smile at others’ wretchedness
the pinks of their hearts covered in black,
blackest of evils, horrors, charred by their delights
it’s my demise
to associate with their widening eyes
and deep, disgusting laughs.

foulness means nothing to them––
for how does a candle burn
whose wick has been tampered?
you can light it and light it
but your fingers will burn, burn, burn
lest your fuel runs out.


Same Ornaments

Just put those same ornaments up
as last year.
It’s Christmas
in the country
where nobody’s
You’ve got them all
stored away;
it’s opening,
Your time’s wasted in reminiscence,
of how time gently ages
all that you love,
and its suffering,
to dwell on the past
when the world’s still