A Righteous Journey Awaits Those Brave Enough to Follow

Tonight is alive as the wine
Flows keenly & these words
Tumble out of my mind onto
White pristine paper & life, 
God-damn it yes, LIFE for
The first time in a long time is
GREAT and somehow I’m
Learning how to do this all
Over again.  When LIFE was
SHITTY it felt easy to grab
The word generator & bang 
Out an angry tirade against
Whatever it was that was
Annoying me & of that there
Was WAY TOO MUCH but
Now, well now, I sit here with
A partial smile across my face
With these words tumbling on
Out & slowly I’m going to get
There but I can tell you this 
Right now I’m going to love
This journey

the silent church

there are pictures in a box
I no longer need to put on my walls
I see them
and the moving pictures 
deep inside

you nude on the beach
by the old castle ruin
after coming together
I chased your warm sandy bottom
into the waves
where I later caught you 
on my camera from shore
floating
in the mirror blue 
your bare back and head turned
looking out into the deep sea 
my Selkie

there’s the one of you exiting the quiet country church
wearing a dress and flushed grin
having just committed sin on the second storey  
below the organ
doggy on your knees on the sharp spongy carpet between the
last pew and balcony rail 
in view of the alter below
and the door to where the priest lived 
but
he did not come

and there’s the one of us together 
newly married 
the last of that 
particular 
summer series 

there are of course none of me alone 
in the apartment you left behind 
none of me cradling your clothes on the floor

but there do exist moving pictures you did not see
like me visiting you in hospital
having waited
through the pain

feeding you, my Turkish Delight
my love from a tube
pumpkin ale from California
adoring the very furrow of your brow
loving 
whatever taste
on your lips 

Shimmer

The ecstasy of space

Robots on acid

Fuck me space-boy, 

FUCK ME!

Bloody virgin on a bed of cosmic dust, we can plan an interplanetary genocide or start a religion

But maybe it’s all the same

in outer-space

The ecstasy of space

Robots on acid

Eating peyote

The perennial singularity

Phallus slammed in a closet door, waterlogged in microwave painting with sound- can we break the brain of god this unknown source of which we feed upon its corpse

My mind is glowing

Vulva shaped spaceship performing terrifying miracles of light as darkness eats stars, wanton nebula jettisoned in birth reverse swirling fabric of being and time

The ecstasy of space

Robots on acid

Astronauts in love

A carnal quasar pumping frenzy

Nameless

Recordless

no real living beings here

there are no cages but boundaries

without pasts an  ever uncertain present and veiled future

dire transformation

distracted bv skin and sin

the divine motive looking for that spark in primary colored space-jockeys

switching sex organs, eyes and limbs

lies, fate, false memories

The ecstasy of space

Ocean of the void

Robots on acid

The singularity will be fragmented and unrecognizable

Musta Been Another Spell

I don’t remember nuttin’.
But what the heck, doc.
Check me out.
I’m okay.  No damage.
Guess I fell off the bar stool.
Still, this ain’t right.
I should have a single room.
What’s up with this freaky
Fat ass grinning geek
Over in the corner?
Fool don’t even have a bed,
Just sits there on the floor.
Jesus, man, I think you’re sick.
How come you got no clothes?
Oh god, boy, don’t eat
Another turd.  That’s gross.
Quit climbing up the wall
And rolling across the ceiling.
I can’t see how you manage to
Stay up there.  Don’t drool, fool!
That’s nasty and it drips
Right down on me.  Don’t do
That damn horse’s cock dance.
Quit jerkin’ off and shootin’
A jizz wad across the room.
How do nuts like you get in here?
How the hell do I get out?
Look here, you whistle dick moron.
I swear by Einstein’s glowing balls,
When I get this straight jacket off,
I’m gonna kick your ass. 

many doors to hell; open, all of them open

all of them inviting you inside,
the air so cold it hits you in the chest
like a fist, a hammer alongside the head,
the room spinning like a “Strangers on
the Train” out of control merry-go-round,
all the overhead lights flashing, disorientation
complete until the guess-your-weight guy
hands you a card and points down to the pit
where the mud wrestlers are grappling in
the muck, the packed-in-tight crowd
placing bets, money clenched in their fists
as they cheer their champions on as if
the women were not human but fighting cocks
and this was a winner takes all contest to the death
and all the blood splattered on the walls was 
not forensic evidence of some horrible crime
you have witnessed and participated in,
hand still clutching the card given at admittance,
the one that says GOOD FOR ONE FREE RIDE
IN THE TUNNEL OF LOVE, a voyage in the dark,
the ride of a lifetime, a ferryman waiting inside,
holding a lantern, beckoning for you to follow. 

holiday spirit

amazing ass
naked
on her hands
and knees
on her unkempt bed

writhing
clutching
unhung
christmas lights

amazing ass
illuminated
by youth
and a rainbow of color

crying out to the gods

i was only 
twenty years old

and
the holiday spirit
had never
come
harder

for me.

traumabonding dumpster clown love song II 

I think you grew up hungry. 
Corners sliced off a stick of gum precise as cocaine.
each fragment savored 
as your concave stomach growled
I think you grew up watchful.
rolling weight toe-through-heel on creaky floorboards 
diving for cover when the door unlatched
praying to no god- 
let me be gloriously lethal
and poison-frog bright
let me bask chuckling in a knife’s cold kiss 
my saunter a warning 
my smile a threat
you flinched and shivered. scrambled to obey. 
dreamed of ripping throats out with your first baby teeth. 
I think that’s why you laugh when someone lunges 
fists outstretched. 
you’ve reeled them in 
invisible strings sticky as a handprint on a child’s slapped cheek
even a clean hit whispers:
skin on skin

Show Time

the parking lot lights
cut pale skin and
black jeans
outside hotels waiting
for a fix, a cure, a remedy
to that disease called regret
please stranger just fuck me
with no eyes, no love, no hope
it doesn’t matter
it means nothing
I’ve got a death wish
a sex drive
a self injury
so when your hands
are around my throat
your grip is never too tight
if I am still breathing

December

Sitting naked
I am smoking on my couch
Holding pen

Journal out and open
Counting syllables
Holly on the mantel

My muse, my love
My cockslut postal patron
Cuckoldress
December

Drifter

We talked on the edge 
of a cliff—somewhere 
you & I had lived for 
a long, long time.

Your eye held a knowing,
& although I wish I knew
what it was you said,
that look was the same as always.

Then you left the ledge.
I watched you seep into 
a black shallow creek bed,
beneath lay the reflection
of the moon—fragmented
from all the small & large rocks.

You came into my life 
at the perfect time & then 
we kept each other for a while.

Thirteen times around now.
Thirteen rotations watching 
each other grow & yet, 
saw what never changed.

I have to go – I have to go
retrieve your body from
the bottom of the cliff.
I have to make a sled
out of sticks & drag you 
somewhere I can dig—

& I’ll dig, through rock & root, 
multiple lifetimes of sediment,
under deep for a safe spot to 
finally put down your bones.