butane hill

alone i faced the wind

above the trees blowing

in my hands sheltering the

laughing blue life of




the sky was a peach at sunset and fire at dawn and we ate lemon ice and prayed that the city’s electrical grid would hold up. the number of homeless had risen and not all could not be housed. caring citizens were combining forces and giving away tents on the weekend. others were cold complaining to cops and assemblymen: get these sorry-ass derelicts off of my street!

wild. vast disinterest

Yes i tire
of a selfish

i wanna set something
afire and do

these words
blaze out
the woods
where you
lost me

left me
to clarify
my grave

i pick the line between us
and raze your toxic

asserting my

it is alarming

Oddity #5

I was grown from the earth, in my mother whose very life depended on the earth, the vegetables pushing out of mineral soil.

I faced the sun gave life to the plants, like another plant was i. For when the sun fell, again and again i found my head down in the dark, gaze to the ground, eyelashes a flutter then clasped shut for the night.

Many a fire came over my soul, burning through all of my being. For a time, as a child, they tried to put me out. Still i burned. Incendiary. Until natural i burned myself out.

Only the rain that emboldened the soil to create its next wonder, could put out our fires.

Like a period puts out a sentence.
Like a woman puts out a candle.
Like a man puts out a hunger.

Like poetry and prayer extinguish the thirst.

Oddity #1

The day even went odd was a fraud, perpetrated on half and one of humanity. Just to offset even one solitary instance of virtue, demanded a terrible deed plus
a profanity!  

K says to even the score:
choose your adventure!

on the King fire

sixty miles
west of the King fire
achy bones
in my King bed
all alone

California dreamin on
clouds of burnin trees
above horizon

ima princess
ima ember
an x junkie
arisen from the

Fear and slush piles

Fear was seven feet tall and genetically predisposed to hate. His father’s great grandfather was an Original Hater. His great aunt on the other side, modelled for the Queen of Spades. They say she gave the axe to Lizzie Borden.

Fear hated my poetry. His corporate monster nearly broke it’s neck iron trying to get me. Fear let his arm extend just so I was a chain link away from the snarltooth snout of a traditional heavy in the publishing business, who just caught the scent of a self-published success story in the making.

Lucky me, I had my kindle on me. Tucked in my waistline, cool comforting my skin. I quickly drew it upon my enemy, Fear and his rabid corporate extension. I opened and swiped the screen like Zorro at the top of the Z.

The blazing light of my E book cover blinded the bitch, who fell back on her nub of a tail. Fear began to howl at an impossible pitch, like all the writers ever burned by rejection, in unison.

I held my forward stance Warrior #3 asana, for the longest. Whipping back fear and the blue-blooded beast. By the light of my novel let out to the world. Shining as dreams coming true always do.

What was left after the fire, you would not have believed! No trace of Fear or his dog… just a sparkling pile of golden slush, for every manuscript ever heaved.


be careful
  with words


no one dies

fire in the sky
women and children running
     in the

Fire in the
sky…    kids …   running

No one’s gonna
die on the
of July

Cellular makeup

I saw a vision
When i die
my cells like
sparks will

will all
at once
the earthen
body mundane

send me
on my

a fire in the belly
of the sky

you may someday

heat seeking

burning in
your heart