Friday, September 17, 2021


Hidden away in the bathroom
the tiles are left wordless
Cold and lifeless too
Evey poem is a failed self-portrait
I am here too
making it up as I go along
Kept from the stars by windowpane
Kept from reality by the door

Sunday, September 5, 2021


It is in france
the mimes have all gone post modern
You pass them on street corners 
defaced by alleyways
unable to grasp their age
without makeup the face has melted off 
they stand there without lifting their cane
they don't give a shit about your change

Tuesday, April 27, 2021


 the shadow that the floorboard casts

across my feet.

yesterday's coffee stirs

in the breeze sneaking under

cracks in window

leave broken faces staring into the sun


my hands have no age

i dont recognize them

no wrinkle forms a memory

no scars are a thought

my dreams have transpired

they have become more reality than not

a neighbors lawnmower purrs

the grass is already asleep.

Friday, April 9, 2021

A Collection of Dream V

 blocking the exits

a man dismantles a typewriter     door frame

I walked down using the back

of chairs

                 it was to escape an theatre with 

no screen     I should have asked him to move

but I didn't want to bother     ruin his


my hat is on my hip when I mean to make

sure I didn't leave it in my seat

the film flips at its end black white then black and white

two huge metal doors creak and

the theatre exits and an escalator like metro

removes     takes me outside into a city 

unlike but it feels like generally


Tuesday, April 6, 2021

A Collection of Dream IV

 leaving.     i'm here for some reason 

stopped being a student

but i'm in hs again. in the building.

someone i know is hanging by the visitors entrance

the other side of the ropes

i lie and tell them my wife is working late

but that's        a lie. i don't have a clue where they are.

around the corner. i am entering my old neighborhood

childhood. in a field there's a holed out barn     burnt up

the building held some importance long ago

to memory or youth possibly.     i cannot hold back.


beyond the barn the structure shifting to this kind

of soft smooth neoclassical structure  a kind of 

bottle   behind it rising above the sky 

there's a larger horrible copy 

engulfing the earth my eyes     my mind

Friday, April 2, 2021

A Collection of Dream III

I am at a thrift store.  My brother slipping 

something in pocket.

we're outside looking in cars. I am not aware.

We may have been seen.

Inside the car my father looks out. His eyes are bulgy under lids.    they are gone.

He says they are getting better.    better.

but his eye lids are stuck together. He forces them open as proof.

the thin skin tearing at his lashes.

A Collection of Dream II

 I thought I was 

                      trapped in a dollhouse

but the trees

they recognized me

A Collection of Dream I

There's a blind cat with a clown mask walking on hind legs

a dog attacked on thanksgiving leaving diarrhea in it's wake

the movie on tv is a romcom  but like super heroes married gore

the main character like a boy but after every world altering event

he likes another boy more

Tuesday, December 22, 2020


 i take the shrinking hours

i watch them drop below

the horizon

                    that is really just a wooden fence

i forget where they have been

promising the lie that ill remember them


Monday, December 21, 2020

a return to unease

the last time
backlight red
drifting into blue
through the window
watching eyes go blank

become reflections in the snow

night like before
seems to shiver like 

the sun barely down

there's no switch to

the last time
to make sense of 
where the cloud goes

when it's gone

Monday, August 3, 2020


marked automatically;

    life passing within four walls
a leaky faucet of time

the overgrowth of yard
before the window

effortless and green

a million sown fields of pokeweed
glowing pink for a moment
in the stillborn sunrise

it's partly cloudy today
I am superimposed over this reality

there is rain in every imaginary forecast

time is a summer storm
before the window pane

the blackberries of july will become the winter's snow 
before I am gone

Saturday, June 6, 2020

never future

It was rather raw.
    the bloody spot.     leaking valves.
Rubber not conducive to cleaning up the spill
only tongues of the willing will suffice.
Whether they be brought to heel or made to grovel
armor can only weigh down so much.
    luckily with no conscience to break.
only meat.     Cold deathless meat.    raw meat
fit snuggly into containment units
set with bullets for mortar.     burned out sockets.       salted and cured of sentimental value.  without eyes to see inward
the deathlike void reaches out
pulling itself inside.  
marked with no decision.  Taking every reward. 
Made of nothing concrete. 
Only violent. Only violence. Only now and then.

Friday, June 5, 2020

No new hires

drawing a crooked line to

                          this current dream

the face of nondescript mall
escalator to rolls

                            the floor i meet is not
the one

i haven't been making the walls
of the memory

the vision is not waiting here for my return

only confusion of time

a lost place         a wretched belief


music   played like end credits
          eight years 

ago         reminded of cracked pavement
broad street

Newark    caramelized peanuts

     searching for 50c 

to make the down

to continue to the river's edge
 to soak my brain away in the stream

Wednesday, May 27, 2020


barbs dig into my leg

they make a funny sound when i walk,      no,
an interesting sound

                                  enough so that i won't
remove them   
                      enough so that they'll slowly pierce

deeper into the skin

                                 buried there & 
                                                      enough so that
when i recall their presence

i'll allow them to feed on my flesh

consuming my life     leaving my memory

for dead.