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Right of Spring

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dicks, skulls and upside down crosses

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 11

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When we were on the road coming back out to California, along the Lewis and Clark trail somewhere near Cardwell, Montana, I remember thinking life was like leaping through flames while reading poetry and drinking rotgut red wine. This was what life was, a

Nightmare

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I loved to visit my grandparents when I was a kid.

Junctions / Decisions

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Next to you, the mother tightens her grip on her stroller. The young teenager tears her gaze from her mobile phone for an instant.

Cory's Carousel

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There was an ownership about the makeshift carnival. There was a therapy there.

Numberplate

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After she died, clearing out her safe deposit box at the local bank, I found more numberplates.

The Man Who Couldn't Speak His Love

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I considered explaining that the universe is still evolving and changing, but the look on her face said GENESIS ONE.

None But The Righteous

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Susan was twenty-four when it happened again, but she had neither the patience nor the attachment to see it through.

AK (excerpt)

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They said AK, AK, if you want to come here, if you want to come to Antioch, you have to bring your A+ game. If you want to run with the big boys. That’s what they said. So I brought my A+ game.

Excerpt from House in the Attic

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We stopped at the Western Summit of the Mohawk Trail. Below Richland lay in the valley. I could see all the way to New York State and well into Vermont. From memory, I picked out the Hoosac River running south under the railroad

Ditto

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He looked straight at her, not to challenge her, but to better gauge what it was she would throw at him. Her eyes always darted to the thing right before her red, swollen fingers snatched at it, like a thing possessed.

The Karaoke Girls

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The Karaoke Girls are not appreciated. Not nearly enough and not often enough.

North from Laguna Beach

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I was Orson Welles skulking in the shadows and you Alida Valli; our time measured like footsteps advancing on Gethsemane.

I Can Take Satan

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It was all I was convinced / in designing the encounter.

Against Romanticism

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And because the film is French, the camera pauses / long moments at the curve of her neck, it watches/ her finger vermilion tulips in a vase. Her new lover,/ a wisp of a man, looks good in leather./ The camera pans quickly across beige suede,/ rests long

Resurrection - A Sonnet (for Valentine's Day Massacre challenge)

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Mounds of earth and grassless ground

Band Names

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Post No Bills. The Crouton Mavens. United Burglars Union. Crockpot Mistakes. The Heavy Doors. Fire In the Yurt. Douche Baguettes. Upsy-Daisey. Schmazelhood. Sidetrackia. Flotsam and Jetsam. Argyle Sox. Roachmobile. The Adulterer’

Liquor and Older Women

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"What is a vageena?" I wanted to know.

Death, looking over the poet's shoulder, whispers...

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Pre-mortem

77 Words About Last Night

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Blacked-out out on junk, I bet money on a sport I hated just last year.

Charlatan Art

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I bought some charlatan art / and hung it on the wall

Abandonment

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The ideas just came to them. "Nothing On" consisted of a television on a small stand, playing an endless loop of "Jersey Shore." "Shopping Bores Me" was a men's flannel shirt from American Apparel on an otherwise empty rack.

Bullshit Aeneid

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Of arms and the man...

Brian's Bride

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I had a dream. "And it was a long dream, as dreams go. . ."

The Solipsist Suffers

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I can confirm nothing/ but impressions of the world// that appear beyond my/ body’s reach.

Liquids

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The bar sounds grew (as bar sounds will) until everything rushed together -- clinking glass, tinkling ice, laughter and zippers going down then up.

Here She Is

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Indeed, it was quite likely that no one in town had ever played either of these games. The townsfolk were not big fans of word games, though they did enjoy Whist and Canasta.

The Push-Up Ranch

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There is a push-up on the ceiling. I don't know how to get it down. I've tried hitting it with a broom. That just made it blow steam. I asked my wife, did you do push-ups on the ceiling? She did. Why? It's easier up there. The cat doesn't bother me. Well, you left…

Pretty

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Is it victory or madness

Invasive Species

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Except, something about Margaret was a little off. She would stop typing suddenly and look up at the plant, studying it, almost as if daring it to cross her. Then, she would go back to her computer and start pounding away again.