How another would describe me: music junkie, lover of well-stitched cardigans and well-placed sighs. A persistent meddler that seems to move their legs, but never left a footprint once.

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and there it is again;

January 19, 2024
An inward crouch:— & in keeping still in that moment where the liquid turns solid as stone faces, and leaps away like a cougar from a pouch. I’m referring to my thoughts, yours—the enrollment that signs its name deeper than bone; ­ fingering through the chunky marrow matrix of mind where the ...
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Recent Entries

  • deities, drunken & sober;
    January 16, 2024
    It’s two pots o’ coffee a day when I’m fixing to put the booze down, more or less working up another appetite to make quick work of the chaos and order, then making another aerial plunge diagonal and down to rungs deeper than previous; ­ and as is pretty much the case that when the…
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  • I have her in my head;
    January 12, 2024
    Press the barrel to my temple. Trigger pull: bang. Out of the silver end, her improper tongue with diced up questions licks me like a hallucinogen. I’m unkempt and she knows it. I have her in my head—this whirled dominatrix. ­ I’m just red light after red light after… but she hadn’t parried me aw...
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  • ground plum;
    January 12, 2024
    And the word, an encumbrance and hidden like butter sticks, says that the successes can’t be simplified as a balm for the soul, stretching you as an unending spiderweb across all of our solar miles— ­ only enough—while every other star’s a stage, a little spider duded up and decorated with anothe...
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  • a deep pool;
    January 10, 2024
    I’m a deceptively deep pool, the epitome of a false head, false tail; a casual grouping of ideas bathed and fomented, too shallow to sink ships. The morning wanes, no longer the peninsula; blends into afternoon on the painter’s palette: obedient. ­ All while the day is a sport, cracking open the ...
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  • The Other Flower;
    January 10, 2024
    Had she called off the wedding, hailed a taxi, instead of falling into arms like lifeless anemones—a taxi to run, run, run to some other lifetime— would we still be restoring the spots on this other flower, the other horizontal? That the world then didn’t brew your sadness upon an agar plate, ­ s...
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  • echo in incipience;
    January 9, 2024
    And despite the many great faults of others, which are plentiful over the long expanse of time—and chiefly my own, and my own lately—I’m fairly okay.  At least today, which is really all you can hope for, no?  And then you pray for the repeater, like skipping rope while you jog— each smack of the...
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  • Totality I;
    January 8, 2024
    There’s a cast of characters I dearly miss.  They’ve split: left the region, settled down, died.  Most will be missed.  Some, not really, but I either tolerated them in their totality or enjoyed the chaos, weed, or booze that they brought with them. The programmer.  Not sure if I miss him or not....
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  • dove swept;
    January 8, 2024
    I haven’t slept. And after the fact, I’m spinning and regretful, like the tube sock soap bar—wielded, wove and struck down to surface, landing like the little dove.  Gets you numb after a minute. And here we are right now: she employs the cigarette with the pink stem. ­ Little beauty—off her jazz...
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  • drunk & half-lit;
    January 7, 2024
    I know what this means to you, dear friend.  All of it.  I’ve been diligent and working on the antonyms.  Something, something, something about water and the way it’s everywhere and nowhere—the all at once of its tug & pull: its steel reserve.  Today is not for resurrection, that was 74 to 0 ...
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