remember that spider?

the one that tried to kill me?

well, it’s dead now.

i killed it.


that cupcake?

it was tasty.


why can’t i see you?


you don’t exist.

that’s cool.


hey what?

no, heh . . .

oh, ok.

wanna play hangman?





[image credit: Erich Heckel]

December Eleventh

“no look me, look self”

’twas a plea for the ages

Plato himself
would be proud
if not peevish

and what should i find
but that i was an eyelash

revving in place
unleashed by the bell’s ring

cruisin’ the valley
two Pink Ladies

finger on point
lest we lose
the way home

i recall
one drab Tuesday

Black Sabbath was wailing

your smile stole the day
saying “yes, that shit rocked”

i’m pretty sure dual headbanging ensued
in a peppered Ralphs parking lot
sputtering fumes

where Laurel Canyon & Roscoe B. met

sippin’ on big Cokes
somehow, mine was tiny

like, waaaaaaayyyy smaller than yours was

but i didn’t mind
despite all my theatrics

once we arrived

it was welcome as always

the consummate super-hunk
mister Greg Brady

a song serenading
“wise men never knew . . .”

you wouldn’t believe
how these old Santa Ana’s have shifted

since the hour
when shallow skies whisked you away

and time wandered past

a wilting page whispered
“December eleventh”

as tears welled

but foolish me
fought to refuse them

their pain
passing through me

with truth
from which no one can hide

i know peace has found you

your plight languished long
in the cold light surreal

and lo- “%&$#?@!”

. . . indeed
i just tripped and fell

over that table

tumbled, and hit my head

. . . a goosebump.

as always
i had to do it
just for you

for i knew
how such antics
amused you

Sliver of Solitude

what is it
to say, i love you

but all that i can do

the ocean

poised to tear away
this sliver of our solitude

will it be
that we become
an isle of silence sheltered

or will this moor
be swallowed
by the violent shores

in truth
a gentle peace persists

knowing that the stars preside
over our every incarnation

and with you
along my side


my leaden foot fell
upon the seeping, sinking sand

whose hollow earth
swallowed me wholly


arose hands
reached out

i thought
to rescue

then forced a knowing

hence accrued

occurs at long last

in such retrospect

the air, blaring
with disrepair

and unbridled expectation

until, there
within that marked arrow’s second

verity resolved
those heavens

whence no heathen
has yet returned

since poignancy
and purpose
fell moot
in muted sunder

ashen slumber writhes
with impel

amid the undercarriage

this chariot

has retired

This Ritual

i know not how to stay its wrath

this ritual of bounden detachment

from everything
and everyone

both to and fro

as sorrow, slow
e’er gathers
at the dawn where wilting petals cease

some prophecies
will self-fulfill

from roots bound in stone
amid a concrete moment

an imminent decision
of compulsory indignance
unavailed by options present

in the absence of one’s freedom

and if it is
that i cannot be free
to live my life

then so it is
to live
begets me naught
but mere impedance

an imposition
toward a poisoned path
once thought impossible

in ponderance, i sit
deconstructing the illusion

through elusive memories
scattered in bits of truth
and twice retold

as tales of indeliblity failed
through flailing words anachronistic

resigned to a happenstance
of indolent alienation

in the confines of its stoic dissolution

my only hope
hung pendulously
on a rope of tenuous entwine

and time’s aloof refusal
of its merit
as to bear my weight

resolving fate
however late
foregone and long forgotten

Having Seen

i implored thee

“the more i see thy flouting of Morrissey
’tis my lessened desire to see more of thee”

for something indeed
chilled with stillness surreal

to flagrantly decry Moz

his violet distinction

i thought of us soporose
dolorous denizens
adrift in the indented crypt
whence we crept

two minds consummated
as one
minus one

and i,
sworn to mindlessness

but in its due time
sooth did shine
in supernal suns folding

ere this wrath would emerge
writhed the wildest delusions

i ne’er sought to summon
a notion so dire

too soon did its crux
erupt forth from thy sweltry breast
with a fury so fearful
they named it the heavens

it was there
where i languished alone

through days late and long
in the daze
of a destitute stasis

erase this, i beg thee…

erase what thy light doth reveal!

…yet worse i would still meet
on terms told to me
as being intimate

weary were we

where it lurked in the midst
of miasmic moor

its crushing blow
shook the stars loose from their perches

to this day
’tis certain they fell from skies past

by the lashing
of wretched words uttered
then did claim thy rigid allegiance,

by a single whorled whisper

thou sided with Marr

t’was that moment
my roseate tincture wast tainted

in the space of that same dreadful breath

i felt grave despair
by the draft
of death’s chittering flesh-bereft fingers
then did slip in the helm
of an unheeded hand

when thy furtive sooth surfaced
and love, desecrated

the coup de grâce

when claimed thy “like”
for Oasis ☠