March 13th, 2014

I am promiscuous with trust,
And recreational pity.
I see a face in the sky
Like I see
A face in the dots of discarded gum on the sidewalk.
I guess it makes compassion’s dish taste better cold, but
I would be far more empathic if I saw faces
On cars on the highway.

March 9th, 2014

The drunk jambalaya we made of our limbs
Was all very nice, but
I want a sober roux
Of me and you.

Mardi Gras connection purely coincidental. Lest you forget, there’s still a book out there for you!

February 27th, 2014

Sometimes I imagine the lady that hands out pamphlets
In front of the abortion clinic
Hates babies almost as much
As I hate kittens
When you offer me one from a box
On its way to the pound.
I suppose, in theory, I could love it
But I’m so tired from squeezing joy out of guilt and obligation,
And my only food is my heart’s thin stone soup.

February 20th, 2014

The cockroach in my trash can isn’t well.
He occasionally expresses a dim tin desire to live.
But I’m too busy
Doing poetic penance
To finish him, or my Powerpoint.

February 14th, 2014

My valentine to you all.
Your tongue
Makes me feel
Like a toasterful of forks.

February 13th, 2014


Deep in my chest
There is a windowless basement
Where you are handcuffed to a chair
Until you tell me where he is.
You’ll let me hurt you a little
But eventually you’ll tell me
How you know the world is good.

And when that’s done, I’ll beat you until you answer my Star Trek trivia questions.

January 23rd, 2014

I never could fake a moon landing.
The gentle, fragile, soft tattoo
Of astronaut boots
Itched my mind
Like an ant on your arm you can see but not feel.
Flags planted on boring craters
Fill with dust, forgotten.
When my nerves collect too much data,
They aim it outside the solar system.
I’ve emptied myself out like an ashtray.
Your equations work out on paper,
But die without oxygen
In my cathedral mouth.

January 16th, 2014

Prayers for peace grow backfat like butterfly tattoos.
I don’t trust easy beliefs.
Or maybe I just want a cheap thrill.
I want to know someone who thinks the president is from Kenya.
I want to probe their mouth with a thermometer finger.
I want Justin Bieber as a Fox News pundit,
And I want him to speak the music of the spheres.
I don’t understand the man who stands in the rain with a sign and a book and a brain yelling for war and his lord,
But I know no carpenter carries him when he walks in my park.
I want to bring him a nice hot coffee, and in return,
I want something new.
If you want to blur my lines,
Argue in favor of paving Tibet.
Tell me you Occupy soup kitchens in your silk stovepipe hat.
Tell me you frack kittens
While violets purple underfoot like God kissing babies for the camera.

January 9th, 2014

She’s a Mountain Dew commercial for Islam.
She takes her cliff with her everywhere.
But you won’t notice you’re near her edge
Until you lose your balance to the thunder of a butterfly’s wing.

January 2nd, 2014

She’s so sexy
She thinks she’s smart.
She has never
So it seems like a sensible conclusion.