….men….
Shit. Shit. I did it again. There you were standing unobtrusively on the other side of the door. Seemingly harmless….offering up thoughts and ideas and
Shit. Shit. I did it again. There you were standing unobtrusively on the other side of the door. Seemingly harmless….offering up thoughts and ideas and
Thank You Thank you for not calling me again. It seems like it’s been an eternity since I didn’t hear from you. People have said
the christmas poem…. My life is a mess All chaos and stress And no one will sell me a gun. I’m two blocks west of
i don’t know why, but lately i’ve found myself fondly remembering the days when i used to do theatre. building sets, setting lights, stage managing
it was only yesterday that he was born the magic of corduroy questions a picture of squirming kisses a translucent laugh, more delicious than coffee….
there he was. he was dead, or so i’d been told, but there he was. he was alive, on my television, talking about christmas lites.
Bedtime Story…. Come hear a story children, and help me make it real. Take the path that Alice took and spin the golden wheel. Come
the meeting. i bumped into Truth on the subway, his clothing was ragged and torn, and he looked with dismay at Hatred and Rage, and
the show is at 6pm at the orange peel in asheville, nc. i’ll be one of 5-10 poets performing. these are two of the pieces
i got together with a guitar player, chris ortega, from open mic. we sat down and worked out some music to go with my poetry.