…like candy and puke on your tongue, the fakest broad ever, cruising like a busted prow, busted wheel, mast and stem, these stately wrecks and rotten flowers of perfume and the deadly bitchiness of the modern woman’s expectations.

Chuck woke when he smelled cooking.

He’s more than a little pissed at all this eternal boulder rolling.

Life is easier for the handsome. / They are more pleasant to deal with.

He's driving in the Sierra Nevada with his wife and their small daughters and the girls are fighting and he can't take much more of it.

. . . my situation.

The next moment is a convergence made from a single repeating sequence that disappears behind the voice that tells of it.

Nine sated elephants and an ass sit around a decimated Thanksgiving table discussing the state of the union over the hacked to bits carcass of a twenty-three pound turkey. Two years in to The Great Communicator's Lame Duck term and the nine elephants, whose…

The faces of the sun remain unaltered across the seven day forecast. I am sweat-glued to a poem, looking up at the wall-mounted TV in a diner in the Valley

Originally designed for para-morticians and pre-professional undertakers, the Protocol has now been certified and approved for over-the-counter purchase and is completely safe (check local regulations for sales to minors: not approved for veterinary use).

On shingle of seashells & Bullet shells, Ghosts drift along the shore Of the Black Sea.

Years later he surveys this place again to post something, anything. He plays "sex on fire," sounds that once fueled him. Now he knows the song is about VD, not unbridled potency. Names and words all seem at once familiar and numbing and noise. He once wanted fame or…

—Jesus, a snoring cat. No wonder Alex put this cat outside.

Two types coexist- the sanguine/ and exsanguinated./ My skin is cool/ and pale as moonlight