thank these gods

these notifications surround us from

all sides chirping like new species of bird

fuk these ads between songs they

killin us. okay i 

thank these gods for you sweet

heart keep your dreams alive on

sunday. covid 19 proliferates culture

gets canceled ok good or bad

we are young. a little hot

sometimes thats all



the ghosts of poets

arise from the marshes they
trudge to their post

abandoned cabins moored to the foggy

portraits peel off
the walls. unread books crestfallen
to the bare floor

how much life was lost

here? to honor the word

may i conjure you now
at your most glorious
to speak?

to help fight this

useless feeling

stream subzero

good versus bad could be the subject line in so many stories we tell one another, the backdrop for the narrative tales that thread in and out of the jacks in the boxes, the sevens the elevens, the wall green white hens laying eggs on your bank account until they topple and fall below zero to get charged lacking overdraft protections, the bank tricked out the selections, egg in your eye so all you see in the yolk of your mirror is some bloke whose tramped out and you clean and stamped out with some substandard nonglass maybe bleach infused product, summer tanned to understand and bleached on the beach, privileged to be lazy with your reach for the cell phone to make ends meet in another zip code, a city street, an elevation way up high in a place of certain control and power, soon to be undertowed away having worn the boot too long and through, having anchored yourself in one place. bombs away they say as they raze you — only you can raise a new you — a locus among locusts where from all the lofty semi-ideas truck over inferieures in hemis with emmys and gaze, bent over forward or backward or side to side just to hide your true feelings toward someone not quite befitting the mantle, the boss, the one who commands, the one who destroys outside thinking, the one who insulates the factory and checks off on imbalances. on the balance sheet of life its quite clear that the eggwhites of eyes register the very zero so many are fearing and steering as far clear of as may be consciously possible, and who knows where the unconscious is going sometime, personally or collectively dreaming away on a counter. what makes life interesting, makes truth stranger in many ways and harder to pinpoint than an invention of some no good for nothing unemployed poet mentored by purportedly self-actualized dharma bums and beats, optimized daily with new vegan recipes of brown sugarcane juice and cost-cutting and paper-saving methodology, supplemented by earth focused animal-friendly strawberry goo, and rather fascinating for a bonus, right? and that’s what they think of you and me, too.

polyester cotton and the modern rain

The rains came

and i began sleepin
really sleepin
when i awoke
it was not over
all the walls
and windows

drenched and warm
my skin contoured
by polyester cottons
i pulled the useless glass
from my eyes and looked

around me
we were all alike
in the power
wash of worlds

our words
they’d been

no more accents
no more length
to any call

thankful and bloated
heavy holding hands
spray comin off of us
like sparklers

we kept a form. i mean
hundreds of pounds
up to our wikis
soaking wet

the rains kept up
a strong formula
and i began sleepin
really sleepin

the storm
did it ever

and if it did

were we happier
light and dry and
blown away so easy
still holding hands

i don’t know
i was sleepin
really sleepin

the soul is
a steady rain
floodin the canyon
hollowed out
by all our
social medias


i know
the soul
is a steady
rain a heady

makin somethin
of the new nothin

Words on Fire V3E2

Words On Fire …Imagineers of Pyrotechnic Poetics Volume 3 Edition 2 ( for November 29, 2015 – January 9, 2016) featuring… Peter Spaulding sma river Evelyn Elizabeth Michael French Denise Baxt…

Source: Words on Fire V3E2


the past is plagued with

(some poets)
i mean explorers

still wanna listen to you
shouting up from the

having found

fluoride and baking
soda does tar

save us from a family
to feed (the hungry dentist)

the cavities
still somewhere below
the crown

then how i tap upon
the mysterious

whats inside

let us rediscover!
the land of empty