Monday, October 25, 2021


 
—I CAN FEEL THE SUN SHINING ON YOUR SOUL

 

 

…In order to do this post, I was all prepared to trek on over to the library or Starbucks when a small miracle happened—the power and internet came back to life after a near 24-hour blackout.

All the hype about a “Bomb Cyclone” ravaging the area turned out to be accurate.

 

Branches broke free from the trees and landed on our power lines, which then sent them ablaze despite the torrent. I went out to check on the situation, standing under the havoc but slightly left of it when the loudest BANG I’ve ever heard in my life sent me almost reeling backward into a ravine.

 

The good news is I finished two books during that span, and started a third, “Since I Laid My Burden Down,” by Brontez Purnell which I am loving as much as I did his “100 Boyfriends.”

 

The other good—no wait, it’s actually great—news is that my new book should be coming out on Wednesday! What, what? Yep, if all goes well. I’ll post about it then.

 

I also wrote a lot of random stuff while the world was swirling outside my windows last night. Writing by lamplight is kind of fun… 

 

 

Damn the Weather

 

 this weather 

wants me dead

cedar seedlings  

flying sideways like 

copper whiskbrooms 

across the frightened lake 

and all I can do is hope 

the bomb cyclone misses 

you the way I do

it’s a sentimental churning 

of the senses that makes no 

sense given our track record

but I’ll still slip the album 

on the turntable anyway

watch it spin like a reboot 

listen to Lana sing 

All roads that lead to you

as the wind blows us out

the door down the road where 

trees land like canons and 

mother nature takes her 

meat rare and bloody

Friday, October 22, 2021


—LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER

 

arthropods

 

        my brother stays busy eating spiders, spiders of every shape and size, hairy critters, gauzy-legged, some escaping, stitching up his nostrils, weaving among his dense nose hair until they bore through both tunnels, feasting on his eyes, laying their eggs in the nests they’ve made of his sockets, so that when I ask him why he raped me, he can look perplexed, instead of stupid or amused.

Wednesday, October 20, 2021


 —GOAT HEAD IN THE BACK. HOW’M I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT?

 

 

Hunger

 

Mother had a hunger that scared me. Her skeleton key-eyes always snooping, her talons constantly clicking like castanets. 

Her teeth crushed glass, her lips strands of prison, razor wire.

The strays who visited got eaten. There would be a bloody toupee on the sofa, a severed nose or penis bobbing in the toilet.

When the men stopped coming by, she made her way to my room, locked the door, and said, “You were never my favorite, but you wouldn’t believe how famished I am.”

 

Monday, October 18, 2021

  


—SENDING YOU LOVE, AND THEN SOME

 


Kraken

 

I wet the bed on my honeymoon. Laid there in the dank dark, steel-stiff. The stain beneath me spreading like a wet forest fire. A raging drench climbing up my spine, down my shriveled testicles. Sour fish or Gila monsters jumping off my shoulders. The splash enormous. Wicked water, wicked waste everywhere. I stuffed pillows in my mouth to keep from screaming. I jammed fingers and thumbs. The taste was like an empty kerosene can. I puked up blood and guts, more foul foam to swim in. A kraken pulled me under the urine waves. Its tentacles like outlandishly long fingers, with suction cups that ripped off patches of my skin. Its mouth was a tarpit French-kissing me. Its lips tasted briny, like ripe piss and excrement. I held my breath for several years, while the bones of ancient pirates scraped my soles. I held my breath until the woman I lay beside rolled over and shook me dead. But I couldn’t die. I’d become eternal liquid, a jelly fish boy, shivering like the ghost of someone younger who once looked like me. The stained bed sheets waved on the clothesline where mother would hang them so the kids riding the school bus could relish my shame, then kill me each afternoon, right there on the playground, where all the best murders took place.

 


Wednesday, October 13, 2021

 



-—THE MORNING’S GOT YOU ON THE ROPES, OH, AND LOVE IS A MURDERER, BUT IF SHE CALLS YOU TONIGHT, EVERYTHING IS ALL RIGHT

 

 

I Don’t Think I Told You



        about that hole in the back yard, the stubborn loamy clay, the way it fought to stay buried and unburdened beneath the lawn, how I threw my back out and then wrenched my neck, me with toddler-soft palms, approaching the job with deference, but workmanlike, huffing gritty air, chucking shovel loads, ignoring the root odor, ignoring the sting of blisters, and the stray rabbit and crows who’d come to eavesdrop, not letting up one bit even as I dropped you in the hole, covering it with clods of unforgiving soil, slapping the blade for compression, saying goodbye I’ll see you soon, you who was more dear to me than any friend, and surely not a dog at all.

Monday, October 11, 2021


 
—I’M HAPPY TO BE SAD, I’M SAD THAT YOU ARE GONE, BECAUSE IF I WAS FEELING NOTHING, SOMETHING WOULD BE WRONG

 

 

Seasons

 

 

I want a 

   walk that

keeps its promise 

   daffodils preening 

swallows swirling 

   the sun unleashed 

everything dappled

   drowning in gold 

me clutching 

   your hand 

as we skip 

   through this season 

right on in

   to the next