Supernova

This post is formatted to reflect an original journal entry. 1/9/19 Spent most of the day working on a poem that hasn’t fully formed yet. Best thing that happened today: I acquired The Legendary Christine Perfect Album (1970) for my vinyl collection. Post-Chicken Shack, pre-Fleetwood Mac Christine McVie. Gritty, bluesy, fun listening. Finished Huxley’s The [...]

Blue Elephant

the morning is flat and has a face, a two-pronged smile and a trunk full of gold, eyes cutting like electric diamonds through the haze the sunrise is magnetic and has teeth, i awaken sharpened and ready for flight, a horde of feathered blue elephants painting clarities across the sky i rub my eyes and [...]

Speakeasy

the night was a sunken treasure chest  and the moon was always late horizon like an hourglass—twice stirred— tipsy as a ship shaken in salt and the room was sideways  with a swinging light, walls like a  green dream made of sand,  a single, red bar and  two magnums full of pencils phonograph percolating like [...]

Seven Road III-V

Below you will find Parts III-V of Seven Road, which mark the conclusion of this narrative poem (see Part I and Part II). I do hope you've found this magical little journey enjoyable. I have grown quite close to this poem during the time I've been working on it. And I strongly believe it should [...]

Seven Road II

I’ve been grappling with feelings of restlessness lately, with a sense that I need to experiment more, to branch out in some new directions creatively. I believe Seven Road marks the beginning of one such novel direction. I knew as soon as I finished what is now the first part of this poem that it wasn’t [...]

Seven Road

View the full text of this poem. I. it’s a white witch kind of Sunday air like a dream catcher, crystal leaves, and all  the pixies from the night before are still standing,  rusted eyeshadow, breasts of wind  and hairs crossed like the  silk of a gin fizz on the back your throat i woke [...]

Banshee

it’s that time of day the air vibes like a kicked over can saggy tits and a plastic martini a man approaches on 5th and Chestnut, dreaming like he’s walking, going on about how all the most beautiful things begin with the simplest of phrases a punch of adrenaline, a shot behind the eyelids, a [...]