Monthly Archives: January 2015

Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know?

I went to an open mic salon at the Writers Place on Monday night. It was my first time reading anything in front of people in over ten years, I was feeling Tin Man rusty, and I didn’t know what to expect at the open mic, so I was just a wee bit nervous. My dear friend Charlotte went with me for both moral support and to make sure I didn’t chicken out and not read anything. (more…)

Orion Brings the Princess to the Enchanter

destroy your safe & happy lives before it is too late
for the unstable shaking of souls
& the mysterio dances
we will never truly be rid of

i will rage against the empires for as long as i can
with my magic unshackled
& the fear & compassion
& the love & insecurity
& the warm embrace of gargoyle grins

we could be the archons of sleep
you wouldn’t think
you wouldn’t dream it possible
would you?

of course you would

so don’t
break through the mirrors
crash through the shadows
tear through the windows
smash through the walls


you really really
really really mean it

The Wrong Side of the Bed

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning–on the top side instead of underneath. When the little girl woke up, she saw me and screamed. She cried and wet herself as I hurried under the bed to disappear.

I prefer to be more subtle, but hey, whatever works, right?

The Art of Aching

i am the monarch of silver daydreams
who once intoned forgotten long ago
but now & then
encased in crystal
histories of cardboard streets
around the corner & back
into the crypt

you are the walrus
of well-rehearsed pop references
appalled by improvised assertions
here & now
now & then
tickled by the cavalcade
picked up & pickled
up & down the racing rash of skeletal nights
caught running ’round the wee boy’s dreams
a cauldron bubbling
trouble sleeping
in tune with ever-persistent ghosts

we are the parliament of cotton
sheeted by the bloodstained pass
the gift of silver daydream friendship
now & then
here & now
all ripe & ready for the asking

The Go & Mix of Moon

queen oldest the whispering dogs
edge vagabond marbles in hopes & wants
to clouds that secret become
& through glass as you are
& your gears clutter cold dance beneath mix of my oldest
so your drunken stream is linguistic

no my dawn, the fear beats its velvet
& you become the go & mix of moon
now of never as lost fire-flowers
mouth swallowing, dreaming on mix of sobriety
just heart in chattering & heart in fears
moon becomes the nattering

& squirrel beats its edge on vagabond whiskey
that linguistic babbling & its bursting through the dreaming
delicious blood to pass cold moon
you, my words
dawn the void, all mix of stars
a frosty around the dueling

with sugar astonishing weird moon nights
the cold, the time for hold
snowfall out heart in marbles, in through whiskey
that secret world spins delusions until clouds that thaw
with drunken chill is whispering up your stars