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You are righter than you know if you would only stop to listen to yourself.

Sitting and staring overwhelmed with misdirected trying Dry and deflating just like before No longer walking Sleeping Eyes closing to revisit eternities spent dreaming that you were awake And then Possibilities appear in unknown languages unlocking doors to unimagined places Adventures unfurl like majestic banners proclaiming freedom No longer walking Soaring Eyes opening to envision

Once We Were Free

Authority’s gaze weighs on huddled shoulders Down on your knees you await your orders Remember when you used to hold the ocean? You watched it slip away without a mention. Living on debt and vacant pleasures Future bought and sold in equal measure Swallowing your dose of daily anesthesia Proud to sit and suckle at

Attention Alliteration Aficionados!

Again and again, aspiring authors adopt alliteration as an adroit and accomplished aesthetic approach. Absolutely accessible and altogether adventurous, alliteration aids articles…adding an amusing attitude all ages accept as appealing — adolescents and adults alike. Anecdotes affirming alliteration as an advantageous artifice abound; and aptly applied, alliteration approaches awesomeness. Always appropriate? Arguable. Although abundantly artful,

Black and Blue

Up, down, awake in bed The waterfall’s there just turn your head Blink, blank, eyes are blind Better not think or you’ll lose your mind Click, clash, the joke is seen Elevator’s stalled on the mezzanine Glow, glide, don’t try to hide Wait too long and your soul will die Sink, swim, time is dead

something somewhere someday…

Full of snarling want, tamed to soft weeping under my pillow. Sleep for one hundred years if you must, but be sure to be packed and ready for when you awake! ### The clock strikes like a viper. Time to jump. How to do it? By leaping blindly into the no idea. All you need

Exiting The Black Hole

I realize you might be wondering why I continue to write these little messages beaming them blindly into the nowhere for mostly no one but I don’t really care about that I do it because I have made a decision that whether anyone sees them or not or thinks they’re valuable or not it wouldn’t

Mutiny Of The Courageous

Our brilliance staunchly shackled doused and welded to the rudder Sailing wayward bent and listing We stagger off the gangplank through the alleys and the gutters Gently broken in our sorrows Our lost tomorrows It’s not easy No, not so easy Bearing burdens of our longings without mention without question Just the echo of a

Pole Vaulting Over The Wall Of Boredom

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why it’s sometimes so difficult to start a new painting. I’ve heard the blank canvas referred to as “The White Square of Death.” There’s something incredibly oppressive and intimidating about the blankness. It’s almost crushing. Writers feel the same thing when they stare at the blank page. You’re

Brindle Peaches

Daffodil light slinks wordlessly across the window framed by nascent strength bordered with seeping ambivalence. Ghost grey gulls stir the sky undulating airborne ideas of lonely placeholders, insidiously waiting watching listening pretending to be invisible under aspen shadows. Paper white sheafs fall like apple blossoms from eager and accommodating branches, trampled under the feet of

Another Day, Another Dollar

Terrence waded through invisible snow, shin deep, filling his Vans, saturating his socks, turning his ankles an angry red. He trudged over the mound of frozen road slush sliding down the side of the grimy pockmarked curb. He looked up, searching for evidence of the sun, bandaged behind wispy gray gauze. It was 73º, palm

Wishful Thinking

Some days I want to cast off my life and run away to someplace where no one knows me so I can start over with a totally blank slate and see how I turn out this time.

The Artist

The Artist. Courageously entering the uncertain territory of the yet to be invented. Exploring the unknown, the undiscovered, the unrepressed. Exposing the imagery of the unconscious, the visions that do not have a place in this world. Expanding the physical space of this reality into the infinitely larger space of imagination. Divining the soul. Pushing

Don’t Let The Archons Eat Your Chakras

Have no idea how I wound up there, but I just read an article on the web about how to remove your chakras. The piece warned that the Archons (an hermaphroditic alien race of evil mutants bent on enslaving humanity) are manipulating people through their chakras and siphoning out their lifeforce energy. The solution to

Satyricon Rising, Part I

The eye hot, the head hang, the hand heavy, the heart broke. This that I dream, that I clutch in the mist, that I wear on the sleeve, that I cloak in the crook. The secret breaks. The tale bends. The faces white. The pleasure bleak. Way the far go, wend the fey sail. Never

Yesterday Was Winter

A look passes between us, speaking volumes. We are the same, you and I, both trapped in a reality not of our making. An outline of a recollection arises from the deep recesses of the mind…a vision of another place, one that exists without empty men with lead-lined holes where the castles of their souls

Off The Wall

Glittering particles of practical magic segue to Saturday morning A nudge shoves the last echo of the empty black spaces over the edge, faceted shards of electric possibility shattering splendidly across the floor cut the rope tear the cloth break the chain hack the cord Freed from its tether the gargoyle abandons its post on

The Big Fix

Vivian was a fixer. Not the kind who bribes customs officials to pave the way for smuggled armaments or trashbag-wrapped bricks of heroin. No, her specialty was fixing problems of a far more risky and delicate nature, those of the human interaction variety. Swooping in to save the day was her God-given gift, and she

The Last Dream Before Waking, Part II

You are walking down a long dimly lit hallway with black-slatted doors on both sides. You don’t know exactly what the doors conceal, but you have the sense that whatever it is wouldn’t be interesting enough to bother opening them. You’ve been here, walking, for a very long time, but you do not pause to

Swipe An Ace And Get Down

The elevator had been stuck for close to an hour. Mr. Type A, who had been on his way to the most important meeting of his life (but then, all of them were) was sitting on his silver Zero Halliburton briefcase in the center of the floor with his head in his hands. The metal


We smoldered with intention as we soared above reality; we were lifted heavenly, very swiftly, two doves beyond the ultimate horizon. Both grasping the potential dangers, we weren’t afraid; surely we would travel infinitely far. We won’t shut our eyes nor blind ourselves to the awareness. We will fearlessly open that window. You’ve seen us

In Absentia

An unsolved mystery is a thorn in the heart. At least it is for some people; they are the lucky ones. For others it feels more like a steel spike through the sternum or an elephant tusk piercing the pericardium. In the case of Mr. Alister Leitch, the mystery he carried felt like an endless


The flame of the flint of the steel-eyed jack grinning Circle the ring of never beginning The withering hours with their rusted confessions Turn idol to idle in endless concessions The stanzas lie strangled in three-quarter rhythm The pen pens disguises of excuses as reason The brush brushes off the hard work of being The

The Almost Girl

The Almost Girl stepped lightly from her place on the pedestal, shedding like a snake her restrictive white marble covering to reveal an opulent and impossibly intricate underlayment; a subcutaneous bronze-age body stocking of filigreed copper wire a single electron thin, marvelously elastic, spun by angelic fingers from the errant rays of a thousand golden

A Sketch Of The Blueprint For The Plan Of The Design

The machine had been generating output since the beginning of time. It had been built as an experiment to see if use could be made of the useless; if the pointless could be discovered to have a point. Ironically, testing this theory required that the machine itself also be useless and pointless. Its inner workings

The Elephant In The Room At The Center Of The Universe

Dr. Kulkari unwrapped the blood pressure cuff slowly from Roger’s bicep and placed it on the stainless steel table. Roger waited expectantly. The doctor cleared his throat but didn’t speak; instead he fiddled with the cuff, picking it up and refolding the sleeve and placing it back on the table. He did this several times.

Fortunes On Rabbits

Uncle Virgil was setting a live trap at the edge of the garden. I watched him hold down the little lever, slide the tip into a tiny ring, and cover it with pieces of shaved carrot. “Why are you trapping rabbits?” “Rabbits are like fortune cookies, if you shave their fur, you’ll find a message

Mind if I rattle your cage?

spun around thrice, reeling the time clock changed overnight curvy road, thunderstorm, accelerator stuck at 130 feeling the full force of niagra falls pushing against a pinhole coming to terms with going beyond where you can see it for what it is.

Nothing Personal

You are alone in a hotel room, new but already dated, beige shag and heavy Mediterranean woodwork. Voices filter through the wall, there are people talking in the adjacent room. You can hear them but can’t make out what they’re saying. You listen closely and begin to catch occasional words. “Water works.” “The car is

I’m feeling scrappy today. How ‘bout you?

Not sure why, but I’d say I woke up in somewhat of a “mood” this morning. Here is my to-do list: – Take a sledgehammer to a pile of cinder blocks and smash them and crush them and pulverize them until there’s nothing left but dust and then pound the dust until there isn’t a

Syntax III

It was starting again. Zef stood on the gravel shoulder of a rotting two-lane highway. He gazed off into the distance, lightning flashing behind his eyes. The flat horizon shuddered and began to melt as an 18-wheeler blew past, fueled by meth and diesel, headed due east towards better times. In the dust storm of

Static Pressure

Exhaling soft-spun strands of wanting searching creating shivering in anticipation of that which has yet to be expressed the sky dips down in appreciation of the effort, all the better to be approached electric ecstasy saturates the silver spaces in between power in the seat of innocence discovering itself even the shadows gleam moonlight good

Just Another Saturday Night

“What the Hell, Jerry??” Delores threw the wadded up t-shirt at the lumpen shape slouched on the sofa. “You just shot me in the face!” The sleeping figure stirred; startled, disoriented. Jerry blinked, staring at his wife, a feeling of creeping dread sliding up the back of his throat. Jesus, not this again. “Did you

The Compound Eye Of The Infinite Mind

Lay me down on a mossy hilltop Dark sky my blue dress floating across the pale star soaked, defiant Watching the moon wax and wane over your shoulder for eternity wondering where you are what you are doing whom you are loving when you are coming All the while holding you close holding my breath

Libra Stands Defiant Beneath The Withering Gaze Of Sagitarrius

Strange energies kept me awake, prodding me back each time I dipped my toe in the beyond. No coherent thoughts were being allowed to form. Only floating suggestions of vague empty rooms and the blurred outlines of unborn ideas seen through closed eyes beneath a red satin sleep mask. I wanted but did not know

Syntax II

Shy extended her open palm. “Time to pay up…” The kid, 20-something with the kind of sharp-chiseled face that would keep him in jobs he was unqualified for and relationships he didn’t deserve until the alcohol and self-indulgence took its toll, grudgingly flicked out a $20, creased lengthwise, held straight between the outstretched tips of

Up all night with mixed metaphors and misplaced memories

Seething ball of want and wet gunpowder, struggling to explode Eyes full of smoke and anger If you convince yourself you believe something, does that make it true? It does if you tell yourself it does. At least until you decide to believe something different. Staring at the ceiling through liquified lead Drowning in frustration


I am holding a carpenter’s measuring tape, trying to measure a snake coming out of a hole at the base of a large clump of willows. It winds its way around the trunk, a slick black coil glittering like motor oil behind a chartreuse veil of swaying branches. The measuring tape is stiff and sharp-edged,

You Look In The Mirror

You wake one morning and look in the mirror. In it, you see another face staring back at you, a reflection of yourself so vast and radiant that it is unrecognizable. A sight of such profound magnitude that it paralyzes you to the core. You have seen the one thing that is real in an

Perhaps This Has Happened To You…

Without hesitation I rode the lion of my passion at full speed directly into brick walls and cement barriers and the sheer rock faces of mountains Rode straight through them into the stars, roaring out beyond the pale reveling in the energy of my newborn courage And in so doing I discovered that I was

Six Dozen Lipstick Roses

Crawling vertiginous up the side of the mountain Following the trail of breadcrumbs Working the night to raise the deadened Blistering avalanche out of the cave of nowhere Flies sliding skyward eating gravity Black blooded anvils pound righteous fists against the tyranny of time Water wets itself Air inhales itself Fire immolates itself Drinking the

A Reflection Of One’s Own Making

In the dark before dawning I awoke after making the trip down from the high point beyond the Northernmost lights in the sky above the sky behind the sky. Sweeping my trajectory Westward I soared incandescently across broken glass cities and fields billowing with lipsticked petals and glittering redrock roads, biding my time reading pages

A Call To Arms For Weary Travelers

Calling all catapult dreamers Calling all moonrise wanderers Calling all hopscotch thinkers Calling all watershed wonderers Calling all sublimated poets Calling all emptied vessels Calling all impaled diviners Calling all unsung imaginers Calling all discouraged investigators Calling all stifled adventurers Calling all unheard agitators Calling all clandestine warriors Excavate the subterranean talents Escape from bottomless


“Wash some more of those sweet Winter words over me, baby. It’s hotter than a coke oven in here.” Shy sat in the bathtub, wearing cutoff shorts and a child’s white tank top. The tap had been dry for days. Water had to be hauled in the flat red heat in the round red Coleman

Night Music

1970 Buick Skylark, Titian red with a black vinyl roof. The cigarette lighter pops. I am on a long haul, night driving, heading out of town. I inhale as the lava hot spiral touches tip, thin paper igniting delicious; blackened edges traveling backwards in time, returning to ash. The windows are open and inviting. Warm

Now Is The Same Place As Forever.

Fierce and unrelenting in its blistering ecstasy, the smiling light beams down, bleaching dim beliefs into papery patches that disintegrate into ragged holes bordered by cauterized threads. Ice white diamond intensity blinding the certainty of knowing, breaking apart the conventional conceits, leaving them stumbling and wailing, groping for anything to prevent their disappearing. The light,

Out Of Context

The table, which at first had seemed round, is now long and rectangular. A conference table. I am alone, waiting. I have a folder filled with ideas to present. A man enters, I shake his hand. We sit, the room bathed in uncomfortable silence. He is waiting for me to speak. I reach for my

The Other Day Spoke To Me

Head full of why I want, completely awake the entire dream. Too many things have happened in pieces to keep it from overwhelming me. Over the years, this and that. A toaster. An ashtray. The miniscule ego in a file on the shelf in the office when I had needed to fill it and didn’t


the smell of the first 27 raindrops that land on the thin layer of dust on the hood of a red 1972 Eldorado with a white vinyl roof after a hot summer day parked on the side of the road by a thin stretch of beach where you got out just to look at the

The Tale Of Fe

Fe was floating. Surrounded by an impenetrable blankness so dense it seemed to obscure even the possibility of light and form. Fe had been alone for a very long while. So long that it could not be measured in time. Was she floating in space, or was she space itself? Was she tiny and finite,

This Is Not A Painting.

It is a door. Yesterday it was a window. Tonight a dream gliding effortlessly through concrete. There is no doorknob, no lock, no key. It is open. Someone who looks just like you is waiting on the other side.

Notes From The Place Of Forgetting

You are standing in a hotel room. You have been here before, you feel it. But there is no memory, only the vaguest impression, the shadow of a shadow. You look around, searching for clues as to why you are here. Something, anything that tells you how you ended up in this place. The room

The Last Dream Before Waking

Against infinite black sky, giant discs grind dust into reality, rotating backwards through eternity. They are massive, ominous; set up sequentially in a continuous line spanning the entire distance of the universe, streaking red and cobalt blue and ice white shards of light, shrieking cold friction shattering the darkness. Flowing into the machine is the