Daily Archives: September 1, 2014


I took out a second mortgage on the flesh and bones
of my soul and drove home wondering if the foundation
was cracked.  That would reduce the selling price
of the graveyard I sleep within each dying moment of
my lifeless wondering-wandering experience.  

My llama was in the passenger seat, pink-lensed
circular glasses upon her long nose and crossed legs
(shaved just for me).  She glanced at my in a
psychedelic motion and blew me a smothering-wet kiss
and said, “Focus on the road.”  She smoked like a chimney
and I took a drag oh, well, drag, and we drag on, don’t wee.  
Night forgave the day in all it’s fucked ways and we
kissed a star before entering our habitat.  There’s a
staircase and beneath it a library with forgotten prose.  
I grabbed a book on the way up into our nest.  

“Animal Farm” the spine read. I feel like, “Minimus”
in a world of humans.

:: 08-30-2014 ::


I kissed a Monet painting, Van Gogh too!
And Mona Lisa kissed the man behind the
brushstroke of lifePaint. And then that’s when
I saw her walk through the door —
of the outdoor of life, and I cried,
“Art, pop, and poetry!”

She pulled them all inside her heart.
And I was taken by her soul and lips.
And she walks like a portrait off some museum wall!

Built like life and mother Earth,
she came to me through the dream
of my waking life.

And she (oh!) walked and all life and reality
followed her through Life.  And her hair
and eyes said to me, “I was so busy doing
something and nothing for my own life dear.”

That’s when I walked through the LifeDoor
of the Outdoor of Life.
And I caught a butterfly and said, “I think I
love her.”

My woman is poetry, art, and life and lust,
and all God gave to me!

And I think…yeah, think, I could love her.
thunder talking, and lightning walks but
my baby loves me most!

IT’S the art of love.
And she has a strawberry kiss and raspberry lips.

:: 08-30-2014 ::


I devour society
in all its lies
and fantasy —
Emily did you see,
the words they raped
from you —
academia is a whore.

:: 08-30-2014 ::


WHERE are my poets?  I wish to play
a game known as, “Exquisite corpse.”
It also goes by, “Cadavre exquis.”
We should collectively gather
our words and images so lovely.
I cleaned my parlour for this game,
and have wine and foods for all!
Let our hearts and souls gather!

:: 08-30-2014 ::