To politicians who think things will stop, When they finally let slip and drop - this government of ours we call The ultimate power of them all.

I wake up in the back of my car, sleeping amongst the junk and a steel trolley I had used to help someone move house. I feel for the door handle to let some of the cold, grey morning air in. I gingerly step out onto the pavement and my leg gives way as a cocktail…

The flowerpots across the street from Frank’s room at the Place d’Armes Hotel never appeared parched by the late August sun.

The Cleavers were never really undone by anything. Everyone, however, has a limit. June manages it all, as usual, with her characteristic grace, lovely crinoline - and a bit of manipulation.

You don’t want to tango with me, she said.

The fear you represent is a real drag. That's all there is to say. But like every other house on the block I have spiders in the basement who are waiting to be brought up into the golden light. These creatures only want to be good at being alive. Instead they are given…

Females exuding from the genitals, giving life meaning, shape, cleanness of line, purity of spirit. They may form man as the honey moans out its salt song, solitary, its epic shout of joy, the sweet science of the human form. Then to give back in re

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NO3RAM7-ciU

He honestly could care less.  We should converse, you and I, he says. All right, she says.  She lays down the baster in her drawn out way, heel to toe on the countertop, one step in a…

So what happensTo the VFWIn a global economyAnd the monumentsErected in reverenceAfter the boysWho became menCame back homeTo be fathersThen grandfathersGreat-grandfathersAnd start to fall awayAs the days creep byThat petty paceOf politics as usualFamily DiasporasAnd maybe…

Mr. Skunk looked disdainfully at the window. “When the fuck do we get out of this place?” It was mostly rhetorical as the Skunks were all stuffed and inanimate.

Against// the mysteries and the dark/ it illuminates and shapes

Dead drunks sing Christmas/ songs-

They’re exhuming Pablo Neruda To put his old bones to the test Determine if he was murdered At the Capitalists’ request.

With a madman’s laugh, she realized her mistake and discarded it as irrelevant.