If you would, talk some sense into me. Or, just talk some sense. I am in short supply, you see. I have broad and muscled shoulders from clenching the etched-in tension. A hard head with a coconut brain to unveil the dumb mornings. Those that move in this captivity are bound to me, but we […]



I know why you couldn’t shave anymoreI used to think that you couldbut needed to be touchedI think, now, that something told you“What’s the use?”and you agreedand your hands and knees agreedand next morningyour shrunken headcould think only of hard rivers of nerves.


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.