WRITING
WRITING
POETRY
ELECTION DAY
Who is this Vic Tanny Bitch?/ Who would pimp out his daughters/ To the horny and strung-out skeeters…
LOS ANGELES
“I think I’m a kind of a poet”/ Said the lion when he crossed/ Town/ O’er the 101/ Tempting the long death of Ellay
CRUSH #3
I loved him for a moment, by accident. Like throwing out my cigarette down at the Mobil…
PANCHO
The old sheepdog laps/ By the lamplight/ He laughs
CRUSH #2
You take a shower./ I roll over Griffith Park/ And yellow hills kiss the sky good morning…
PANCHO AND ME
I was a wet seed catapulted, lying on top the hot August ground. A bead of sweat on the forehead of Texas, I tumbled down the Holy American Mountain and landed here…
COFFEE
Sure enough, there are other things to love./ The blunt tumble of you into my arms
Assholery
I’ve had to do a lot of thinking lately about the extent to which my assholery is a real problem…
To be a Photograph
To love quietly/ Is to be a photograph/ We are only allowed/ The empty glasses, the cat…
August, without the sweat
I’ve got nowhere to go./For the indefinite future, I am bound to my bedroom…
A collection of Haikus
There is a plum tree/ Outside my bedroom window…
Cinnamon
My girl has hair like cinnamon/ I should be smoking my cinnamon sticks…
An Ode
Brown liquor stain on the carpet/ Shaped like a rabbit’s foot/ And my feet are cold
Cranberries, All Over Again
Cranberries/ Strawberry jam nails/ Cars rearrange…
Blue
I love the way the sun feels on my back/ When I wake up bare
An Orange
I began to unfold an orange, piercing the corner of an expired airline credit card through the top, and retired to using my fingers to squeeze under the skin…