a homogeneous mixture of light and path is

floral essence in a rain storm is

the State’s morning pledge of allegiance is

monitoring enlightenment by applications is

a billion changing faces is the internet is

chains and chattel is fair according to victor is  

the loser’s reparations in golden grills made of bibles is

righteous is what you make it is self-donation in party is

womb and the invitation into this realm is the opium of drum is

a warren of human existence and its labyrinth is

encapsulated in tongues poetic is puppeteer of time is

a crutch is a crystal prison is the regret in healing is

silence hidden inside of a forest creek is ego is

an overflow is the matter of absence is sanctification by dance is

the reflection ping from a wet eye is the sphere of life is

a vibe is an angel Coltrane’s horn, is scar tissue of ascension;

Never trust a two-dollar steak.


Pressed down shaken together

And running over; return sought to be a

parade, a

celebration of life but rather a

sour roiling wound in a base so deep, the

sheer avoiding nature the

self-centered take on my emotions

Makes the

wound spill harder, just seeking a

herringbone gold chain

An ascot and a waist watch.


For ‘a’ (lipogram)


Valhalla paths  


an amaranth lass


amass a charlatan’s grafts


a bacchanal past


acts as ass  


a man’s charm bank


vagrant’s caravan






a champ harsh


gag gallant acts


a watchman’s karma back


It’s like trying to extinguish

A fire with rum and vodka and gin

To achieve a healed self or in the very least,


It’s like trying to fly with one chewed up

Wing knowing you once were host to

A convention of clouds;

It’s being trapped beneath the surface of a

Frozen lake running your hands across its

Jagged chest for a fishing hole;

It’s the admiration of a fuchsia pedal trapped on the

Wet concrete against that grey face but a voice telling

You in fact it’s navy blue because it’s you lie, the perception

untrue, you omit facts for self-preservation,

like this is who are and will always be;

It’s a word or an action like a light switch

in a dark room being thrusted into

a bad trip at light speed, cutting lights,

blinding noises, loud mouths with sharp teeth,

A rush in blood pressure, cool beads of

sweet on brow and palms,

Faint knees.


Like the knot in those

doubled-laced L.A. Gears

fused needed strength of jaw,

sharp edge K-9 to begin the

unraveling processes;

Like the scorched dusty throat earth

cracked puckered lips

pressing in and praying

for a fix;

Like the first thing seen

in face of alarm clock

stone but to desperately be

gold bullion;

Like the last joint saved for rainy day

mouth vibrates seethes saliva

makes dick hard

betrays logic

as a yellow flame whips

around the heart.