Mired in this weightlessness,
I convalesce,
only for a moment.
Then that brief reprieve takes leave.

It’ll be back.

Shifting in my seat, fighting idle grief
I think of your loss as the tragedy it is.

I miss my old self.
The old tired fool on the hill, spraying the scenery with misfortune.
Befuddling me, no tragedy,
I fall to earth. A misdirected comet in full sprint.
Then I crash.


I take my leave, my momentary reprieve
hoping you forgive me.
Pretending all is well.

Morning Hours

The break in the clouds
can’t displace the crowd.
Circling around.
Your body shifts, each tremor
under sheets, tightened lips.
Smiling decay of cirrus move away.
Into enlightened decay,
fosters a need
spend my waking hours
in your steam.
Bulldozing my dreams,
unearthed reality

In bed we’ll stay,
when the forecast says rain,
moisture beads form
on our window panes.


I caught glint of fire in your eyes
our longest gaze staring through it,
a book with empty pages, to ride upon waves, to wander into uncharted lands,
I swear I’ve been in the same book.
A pantheon of droning sounds, like Charlie Brown, his damn teacher and her mouthful of trumpets.
All erased when your eyes segued into mine
as the softness in my knees buckle me under.
Willingly trapped here with you,
in the most perfect place,
it feels cozy and warm… sorta like home.

You light up the scenery at night
without a star in the frozen sky.

We are left alone as the backdrop decays.
Two nomadic strangers,
locked into a familiar gaze.

With Malice

Tell me there’s more.
Not tech, not junk, not debt, political traps, and forgettable friends.
Tell me I got this place all wrong.
I feel dead on my feet, this path, my restless sleep and vision quest that’s more venture than treasured end.
I must’ve fallen off again.
The deep, malice as relief.
I’m a nobody in this world.

Staring listlessly at my rapidly cooling coffee, I glance out the window pane, realize I need to reframe, and silently trail off in my cocoon.


Spots across the desert,
deserted and vagus swept,
chills prodding nerves, head to toe.
One more step, gravel sandstorm snow.

Oasis dissolves into a distant place,
hollow pace, my feet stuck in quicksand space–each grain rubbing me raw.
Two more steps, you’ll be there.
Or at least the illusion in freefall.
Huddling in this elucidated state.
Asking the sun to forgive.

Just a few more steps and I’ll be there,
tethered skin leathers in the wind, my eyes burn under the dome. Heat overtakes my last few moments, thinking of you
hoping your safe.

Remembering temperant, solitary days,
the world made so very small.

It was all we needed.


Sounding a low hum, rattled noise, unearth the terror you feel, concede
There’s someone, something up there waiting to feed
No monster under your bed, it’s the unreal apparition of nostalgic appeal
Where listless castaways hunt for bones.
Your bones.

Tender meat and cankered sores
Abysmal on the attic floor
Abdominal visage, loved one’s gone
Somewhere between heaven, hell
and afterglow, bowing out.
Drowned in dust and webs, spiders lurk in cornerstone grout.
Clothes saturate moth ball stains, emanating stench, apoplectic memories remain.
Of the dead. And gone. Never to return.
Boxes of film, cassette tapes worn thin, black and white photos harken the dead-
Awake again.

Aunts and uncles, granddad and their kin
Useless mementos rescind
urges to feel, or spill tears.
I’m in another world.
A desiccated thrill,
seeking the ghosts of past lives
attic museum mausoleum,
I’ll join you all soon.


Take my coarsely in your arms,
throttle me hard, leave me crippled underneath your weight,
heaving breasts scaffold my face.
Every part of me aches.
Pleasure intertwined with pain.

and that’s the way I want you

Eat me from the inside out,
Rippling beads of sweat leave no doubt.
Wrap your pale, milky thighs
around what remains, night & day,
plush eyes of brown, every inch of me throbs for spent flesh, baby’s breath–love, the last thought in my mind.

Buoyant images, haunting me
from each blessed caress.
Longing for you,
throttled, satisfied–black & blue, I promise they’ll be nothing left.

Incisors tear at raw flesh, leave me spent, throbbing, searching for your sandpaper caress. The world outside can burn, while we scorch the bed.

I never want to leave this place… and you.