REPETITION

You are the epitome of “back on my bullshit” only falling into fads of the moment when you cross my mind, regurgitating bad habits with every phone call – I can’t even look at your picture without frustration of anticipation of what dumb shit I’ll do next when it comes to you               how dare you…

Sucker Punch

I’m a sucker for lust like a sickness in itself to lick the clavicle off of your chest, tongues impaling and pretentious with your level of distorted perversion and psychosis, I envy all the atoms that get to live inside you, creatures crawling around undeserving and dictating the way in which you eat bread and…

Hollywood Mus(e)ic

It must hurt to be him. A Sun King embalmed into one, specific love. Married to the widow and jumping coasts as if all things were fine full floating feral, of all things – ferociously virile and written into the strategy of superior design,           he wanders the streets again,  …

Foliate Oak Literary Magazine

My poem North has been published with Foliate Oak Literary Magazine. Click on the picture and you’ll be redirected to their site.

Carnivore

There is a carnivore alive inside of you when you stare at me without blinking, I can hear what you are trying not to think, like an abundance of greed caving in all around you, it echoes in your eyes     …..     there is no free will / the indents in our…

Hybrid Florae

You left your handwriting on a restroom wall in fuchsia ink,grimy prints from blood bitten lips       Damon & Soto, quickto fashion James Dean – if he were bougainvillea and lacedhis own lungs with hybrid florae You’re as dirty as the street corner      I’m impatient,anticipating what impulsive words you’ll soil next, tripping…

Poem of the Month | August

Whose Hustle I look like the homeless, in Grateful Dead in unbrushed, in dingy coffee mug and the same native man makes five trips around the block selling silver and onyx, peeking in store windows, asking me if I’m interested I can respect the hussle, but dont make me yell at you about my fucking…

Poem of the Month | May

Rubble Girl   I had written this somewhere, on a napkin I think   “I am the underground”, I say, as I am rubble, as I forget to mention that I detonate into existence to a whistle of bats, the rev of my mutation, I upgrade,   Pick myself up every day, meet my barrier,…

Poem of the Month | March

Anamasis I fill the backstage with cobwebbed footwork, dressed like a dead end and painted for performance – I fill the backstage with a glare, I pop the top of a can of coke as a leather jacket fondles me with faded tattoos and the adhesive hands of a Brit who swears across stadiums everyone…

Poem of the Month | January

(de)materialize If a woman wants to vanish                   she can Abolish the fetish of skin, to skin, to skin Contact                dematerialize a softened puff That sterilizes her lips, fingernails spreading fig & apple 47 pages of advertisements in Vogue 3…