That’s the spirit

There’s no one to adore it. Too hard-shelled and prickly, I guess. Transgressions bought and paid for. Still, there are soft surfaces of want. In the shower, (hotter, hotter), there’s that brain stem shiver. White-eyed, photogenic as an actor’s orgasm.



Third or fourth wind, I think. Pissed at the life sedimentary. A change is as good as a rest. Round and round the mulberry bush. Hah. And I see that my old cat knows he’s bony now. He challenges the thin air, and slingshots himself into the five yard dash. Then, saunters to his hairy […]


The slow burn

i am one with hands hang they like meats today grab one that’s numb work it up and down hold it by the thumb gelatinous with bones the slow burning of hope has reached there at last but its heat doesn’t warm at all