When first I moved into my home
the land was inhabited
by Angels and cougar
Last winter the cougar died
I found her not 50 yards from my door
Now the Angels only come when I ask

It has changed
the way the land feels
Even the wind
is less blessed by pines

Left in absence
are all of my demons
Making themselves comfortable
in my living room

they do listen to me
They comiserate
Offer advice
It’s like the self help section of hell
Thankfully I have an ottoman

The truth is
I have changed
and now
I invite my demons in
to share tea
with me
my loves
and my Angels
all in circle


What rhymes with shit?

What rhymes with shit?

I’m a bit bit
perplexed and hit
with a dit dot
correcting all of my wit
showing my words
not fit to print
printing them anyway
because fuckit.

A misfit outfit
I’m a part of
crushin all free thought
hour and hour and hour
and here I sit
in this
brick red chair
having to care about nots
and nitwits
and dim fuckers
obsessed with tits
but not heart
or love
or compassion.

make some money
the comfort is worth the pain.
or is it?

me to flirt with
an idea
a charge
a passion
an imit-ation
of artist struggles
to posit this:

Comfort breeds contentment
Contentment stifles growth

Might as well just let go.
End it.
Do the honorable thing.

And cease to edit
allow the flow
to free fall
in and out
and in and out
and in and out
of solvency
scaling the summit
of what’s possible
without a mortgage
or a safety net

So I ask you again:
What rhymes with shit?
Because I need a sound
that sounds like this.

Once again

I feel stuck
possibly for good reasons

But I miss the fire
that fueled my poems
angst ridden or tumultuous emotions
allowed fevered composing
and words volunteered themselves
excitedly expressing
that make me proud to say
I wrote that

I want to write more
I’ve many poems started
but there is no flow
no driving concept
no story to tell
and they languish

So for now I write this
my longing to find
to create written moments
that inspire pride
once again

I Promise

It’s okay
Everything will be okay
I promise

The most comforting words
of compassion
and kindness
the most important words
and the biggest lie
I have ever proffered

It’s okay
Everything will be okay
I promise

I promise

believe me

Turn it up

Trying to write depressing poems
I should probably turn off
the inspirational music
playing in the background
Filling my body with hope
the corners of my mouth
twitch upwards
Dedication be fucked
as fucked as me
I’ll turn it up

So, what’re you up to?

The right thing
That thing
The thingy thing
The very thing itself
It’s the thing
With the other thing
Multiple things

The right stuff
That stuff
Stuffy stuff
My stuff
Gerge Carlin stuff
Stuffed away stuff
Stuffing stuffed stuff

The thing
The stuff
The stuff and the thing
Or stuffs and things
Stuff and things

Masturbation Scars

I love you to the sun
Through it
And into the infinite
I know that you love me

I’ve sacrificed for want
For priciple
For love
Of course

But your efforts insignificant
I got your letter
Sorry not sorry
It’s the usual

Loving you, then
Is rampant masturbation
Powered by lust
Fantasy the foundation
With reciprocity lacking
Causing friction unassuaged
Rending soft flesh
Blood mixes with spit
And in the end