The coldest knight of the year

Sack of a face. All dragged down by gravity and surrendered muscles. It's supposed to take more of them to frown than to smile, but nature disagrees. And what's he doin' now, that old Aqualung? Shufflin' along the sidewalk. Dangerous as a stage player. There, he's found the metal grate, the rising heat curtain. Marilyn... Continue Reading →

I don’t understand your face.

Never show your face again. At least not the one faux filtered, caked with hiding, faked and chiding, undeciding. Resting bitch I want. A tooth or two showing what might bite. A premature goodnight. A masochist's delight. Wish I may, wish I might coax from you a smile of bright.


Let me crack corn, cozy up to the keys. A fine morning's coffee turned to 6 o'clock's wine. A myth to be born that nobody sees Some saltwater toffee, and mauve in the mind.

the weight of the world

Just beyond piled-up banks of dirty snow, stick trees, made of disease, voice their last testaments, mournful and forlorn. And so we walk, pushing shins and shoes forward, keeping music's company. And we carry that weight. We're going to carry that weight a long time.

I’ve been seen

There’s a face peeks out from a parka Snow day Crossing street Side glance, sees me, smiles shyly Then Head down, Mukluk trudge I wonder to where, and assign a word Angelic.

From afar.

I've seen how the animals trust you. Like a shepherd with her flock. Their spirits are simple and pure, and they know you are gentle, firm, and never nervous. They take their pleasure from your understanding, and from your acceptance of their gifts. And me? I am for home now.


Be it rolling green, white water falls, carbon jungle, tenement of tin, or house of hallways stolid and immovable, this, your yard of Earth, held a story. Some would keep theirs and laugh. Others would trade theirs for life. And the poor in spirit, for death

Please hold

metaphor simile synonym what is best when the thing wells up inside of you and breath wants to be shallow and heart feels to burst laying down's no cure just be here be here now mine friend mine friend and be held

time, out of mind

Skull and muscle Searching eye Operate these bones Live in the godly force of spin Walk to a purpose All held together by might Night is certain Bright day is not granted One watches the great story.

Whistler’s Brother

  Do you even realize you're doing it? some say. I say wut? The whistling!  The whistling! They are peeved. Somewhere else, I hear I love it! I say pardon? and get red. I'll whistle your language whatever it be to pipe you up closer or farther from me.

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