A petite section of road protected in a wooden cocoon. Branches hand holding above the asphalt. Cooing to me like an infant. Secure in...

I have never cared for rules or held hands with expectations - Why should they not be broken or disappointed? As I have been I have never...

What is the string of hope? Commencing with an hourglass tattoo on my skin. Question mark shape outlined in the dunes. Parched I refuse...

How did we all arrive here? This audience? This theatre? These four musicians walking onto the stage? Accompanied by violins, a viola, a...

An aging sandwich lies alone on a paper wrapper. The mysterious loner clutches his book doling out his daily therapy. The empty chair...

Perched atop the dilapidated hospital. Peering down like gargoyles. Vehicles yawning down Main. Handed down bicycles crumbled behind the...

The museum is like molasses. One slow step at a time. A small town Alabama boy on the outskirts of L.A. where tapestries hang overhead....

Sentries stand guard over the dungeon of Danae where I hide from betrayal and Zeus. I once had a child - not Perseus - born to a Gorgon...

Your abandonment was a whisper. Like the autumn breeze whistling through the dilapidated shack that creaks among the trees. I hear the...

Roughshod partner. Eggshell remains surround your narcissim. Even the fold of the towels do not meet your standard. Piles of yarn sit in...

I am jealous of this #2 able to write the future erase the past sharpened when worn soft graphite core dusted in private journals, thank...

I thrust my hand in the dragon's mouth. the bone fire licks its sacrifice. cigar smoke exhaled through nostrils. limbs pop as the scaly...

But suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. - from “Wanting to Die” by...

If I could just escape this skin. That’s the problem isn’t it? Wet footprints lead me back to the psych ward where my yellow grippy socks...

baffled by this vacant beach the trail of broken shells will lead to where the bloody footprints stop wounds are healed with salty stings...

your cleft chin could store a hatchet gray eyes, why are they always gray? main character features chiseled by nature charismatic...

I don’t know if I am extremely sensitive or life is unbearable - Vincent Van Gogh six feet tickle my forearm, instinct says to swat but I...

Today was the best day ever bathed in water and chlorine at Aunt Laura’s, open eyes burned below the leg kicks of the twins who love me,...

1988, Frasier Crane reads to a bar room crowd “It is a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done.” Cliff, Norm, Carla and I hang...

‘It will grow back tougher’ he said as my hands bled. Paths of dirt and gravel mixed in the palm like the soybean field rows I had...