Category Archives: Writing Collections

a library in process holding collection of my writing projects including expository essays, articles for counter-culture magazine, sudden fiction and freeverse poetry – organized by form or collection

Bruised from the Tallest Place

Flugelhorn weeps along with wheels on rain
Pennies won’t derail a train
but might cause a bruise
when dropped from the
tallest place you’ve ever seen

Critically Observed in Passing


Exchanging foreign candies
in a crooked lingo
aboard crowded bus
Excited in the new scene
the Japanese kid
too cool to talk
purple hair reading with
curly glass earrings
the other shaggy haired
and rock and roll leather jacket
and tennis racket
just doesn’t make sense why
Angels recruit in Vancouver


Waiting for a different bus
The Persian woman with an hour-long hairdo
and green skirt suit
hoping for a glance
While friendly fire kills more
the paper mentions in passing
tempting few to wonder why


The key to getting by
is knowing when to move back and when to get off
when the bridge sways on purpose
tethered by twisted cables
driven deep into burning ground
threatens the survival of us
within this toxic time

Off the Brittany Seacoast

(For Tristan Colbriere, The End, La Fin)

Oakum planks rowboat
Bohemian seafarers
The current pulls towards easy an stride
Oars pull – locks wobble,
dynamics of hollowness and displacement
Expecting the inclement
seeking a forward curl

You and your seafaring dreams
Do you not know about the fever that levels so many?
Deep, gritty slick bottom appeared
before no gracious host
only grey curious gaze

Or a foreign plot lined with the greyest stones
Shipmates and explorers align aside
only to fade
Nigh seamate, hold fast
seek the cove and savour
The salty bracing air dear shipmate

Ships lean, storms crush, sailors scramble and the orphans walk
Mast arched and stretched against
The grain.
Storms pull fro and ships seek harbor
Grimy oakumed planks stuffed with twine –
tapped with purposeful hammer
The hollow serves no purpose
with naught a shoreman aboard

This and That

bad guys in tie dyes
wild oats and pigs and goats
blow the coals
in that there hole
gates locked key lost
left in lurch so go to church
and tread the water little farther
kick it in pick it up
faraway slap bang slap dash
go dutch knee high break a bone
bust a gut tear it up
soup and nuts in a cup
marioni marconi macironi
stalemate tailormade
count to ten  there you go
read your bible so you will know
how to vibrate gesculate
emulate authorities won’t agree
cause you smoke the weed ain’t
no good find the quench
sing the birds trees rocks and things
till you ain’t no hungry
never gonna hurt
know you got the rubber
know you got the beat
platy eight maybe ten
never hurt again
oh oh
hoe hoe dee doe
here we go
stand up sit down
in a corner on the wall
in a snit on a wall o.k.
thumbs up pinch hit
in the morning
you are jah person
jah people say
don’t turn them away
don’t take it hard
green thumb
big jump
quantum leap missing link
kinda dumb dumb dumb
chewing gum
cakes and ale
lion’s share i don’t care
grease your hair
grease your palm
cross cross your palm hair down
naked truth bet your boots
off the shelf raincheck
sugardaddy kinda crazy
stegasaurus brontasaurus
me a saurus you a saurus
politics were made to bore us
strike a bargain strike a hat
hats off to overalls bowling balls
see the stars stars sky
knee high same song
regular guy walk a rope
light a spark bark bark
trailer park big wheel
paper plates and sewer grates
i’m as mad as that hard times
rip offs seperate ways
sewer man super man mr. sunshine
pow wow show down square off
call the shots
pretty girls love your thighs
got the hots no words
world so good polka dots
love love hand in glove
just like new york robert bork
parts is parts strengh is strengh
less confusion less carousing
glad rags and witty jabs
down at he bottom of the well
where is water is not
i was too afraid
try to frustrate cup is full overfull
got to go
loaves and fish beer and beans
in the belly of the whale
where you send gotta go
all the way to mexico
rampage high jinks suits and ties
and butterflies butterflied
yo -yos yo -yo
screaming meenies
beatnik beenies
hairy chests and skating rinks
whitewashed rednecks
iguanas and lizard kids
red red rose bloom boom
watch it bloom
cheap box wine
hoe dee doe there you go

circa 1988

Drowning above water

his ears are stones
his opinions explosions
he doesn’t want to hear
sit and think about it
with distilled inspiration
no one else matters
his mind stares ahead
tells himself he’s happy
as he swallows his damnation

circa 1987

Worm on the Slickrock

Crawl across my foot
my little worm friend.
Together we’ll bake our
wrinkly bodies in the sun.
I’ve nothing else to do all day,
or for an hour, but to
share your sudden life,
sitting, wrinkling.
Just because I want to.
And I can.

I’ll help you pass little worm.
Sweep you in a magic, dizzying way,
back to your island of lichen, moss
and various fungus hidden.
Over rocks, twigs and hills of toes,
for no other reason than none.

But I promise silence
my little friend,
I don’t wish to quake you,
my quietest voice being thunder.

ca. 1990

Notes to a Pig

And furthermore, once you are dead,
ground up and rotting for years,
long after your rancid flesh is
devoured by greasy,
pimply breakfast eaters,
even after two or four more pig
generations have farted, wheezed and belched
through their seasons,
your fat, entrails and miscellaneous gristle,
will still be sitting on a shelf,
in a flourescent store,
in a box that says
on it.

circa  1990

To the pretty girl in the nudie magazine (I would like to take you to Moab)

Now that I know you, pretty girl.
Now that I know you better than
any other curious man,
I’d like to be nervous and call you,
and call you your real name
(not Candi, I’ll boldly assume).

I’d like to bring you flowers
or other corny things.
Or we could see a movie
(you said you liked movies).
Maybe then a hockey game.

I could show you my Volkswagen bus,
and I could take you to Moab or Disneyland
or whatever would make you happy.

Then maybe I’d kiss you on the cheek.

ca. 1990


The stars were mine,
or should’ve been,
so I named them all.
Mapped and patterned them.
Like someone must of done before,
They were pigs, frogs and burritos,
Volkswagens and straight lines.

Then after I named the sun,
I named them again.

ca. 1990

Pillars in Bryce

I need to know each one,

to taste the rock
and swallow the sand.
To spend a life caressing
each bird and fondling each
weed, with my grimy,
orange palm.

Then stand atop,
Raise my arms,
And be struck by

ca. 1990