You would think having roommates would be difficult.
And you would be correct.
There is nothing like a good old roommate. Or roommates.
That word.
Gets me everytime.
We are supposed to be friends. We have rooms, and we are mates. But, mates could be mating.
I’ll put it to you this way,
being single and alone for a hot minute of your life is paramount.
Do this and you will have zero regrets.

It’s time to go there now.
The City of cement, sleet and dark that makes itself visible.
Stacked sedans fill a highway stretching to Jersey.
Rain turns to splatter while I operate this vehicle.
Yep. I’m driving
I am in the driver’s seat, and I am driving in a gray sedan on a highway next to gray sedans.
Inches of ancient dust that could perhaps be classified as cataclysmic residue of a previous apocalyptic expanse has seized the City.

mind melt
into obscurity
meld mind
into whisps
wisps
wisp
a tiny sliver.
No one will see
the smallest of light for few to view
strike hands
and knives
for all to see
stand naked with
shells in hand
gleam and glean
about the wheat and chaff
make noises til our mother laughs

amid the sea: grey, gold and fire
the embers of waves in twilight
bloom and die and live
in atoms once created
now forgotten

His arm is over my waist as I sleepily adjust.
Bristles of an old, worn curtain against my hip.
I can feel that.
That scratchy cloth barely grazing my thigh made me feel more alive. I knew I had to be alive.
No way I’m dead.
I would like to be the first ghost who feels a breeze.

There isn't any air.
Nothing is going in, and nothing is coming out.
The middle horizon stays a middle horizon.
There isn’t a sunrise nor a sunset.
It’s perfect, considering its methane country.
Explicit sirens sound off, with tales of emergency in the skies. Swinging and reading this newspaper is my apparent new pastime.

the echoes of evil
Live on in our parents
will never stop
unless we remove the walls
upon which to echo.

waves crash like scrolls
on tan depths
holes in sand
demons in heaps


Starfish cartwheels
in ocean tides



relinquish    



All the points propelling
nosedive banks
dunes of lands forgotten
   never there
   always changing


a spare seaweed
to cover squares
of liquid candor and civilized speak
   a language only mean swans
          And tides can provide.

It’s a cut of prime rib,
that I slice to your size specifications,
served with a heaping side of horseradish.
I hate this ******* clip on bow tie they make us wear.
La Cave. Underground niche joint,
where all the cocktail waitresses and servers wear
******* clip on bow ties.
We specialize in meats and baked potatoes with endless amounts of butter, sour cream and ******* chives.
And don’t worry honey, I’ll be sure to bring you a whole plate full of baked potato sides.
Quantity is very important in La Cave.
The quantity of your tip depends upon it darling.
Sultry, red misted desperate dwelling of men
who dampen even the highest of spirits.
Where is my pronged fork for this huge slab of insultingly low grade prime rib?
It comes with all the sides you could ever want.
No questions asked.
And that **** little honey of a gal, that waitress right over there will cut you off a slab as thick and as cheap as you want it.
Happy Hour can **** it.

Placid.
Pope.
Pious.
Dope.
Drugs.
Police.
Smug.
Faces.
Mugs.
Acid­.
Lemon.
Ice.
Space.
Dimension.
Grace.
Alarm.
Grass.
Petrol.
Harp­s.
away
Task.
Eyeballs.
Zebras

We count our blessings,
We love them so.

We leave at luncheon,
Linen and all.

Cradles have done rocked,
They have fallen.

The comfort of cloth and swaddle,
Is to be embroidered onto edges,
Yet to be unfolded.

In another pitch,
In some place between you,
and me and thee.

Candy perfume
Cotton candy clouds
Unicorns drinking tea
With an umbrella made for three
Teddybears in suits
Ladybugs weave glitter
Blades and chocolate
Butter and veal
Soft and sweet
Timid and mild
Golden tipped chipped china
Eggs on goblets stand
A tap
A knick
A spank
A kick
And all you add is pepper
Until you sneeze
Baby candy bears
Minty chocolates
Melting fudge away
Breathing in peppermint tea bark tea
Basking in the muddled blend
Of pink and blue and stars and diamonds
The nighttime dreams to begin
Nonsensical tantrum of sleep
Of unnatural restlessness prevades
Another place awaits you
Deeply packed in salt
A well taken care of spot
Renewing the smell of steak, medium rare
Reds and white galore