I’ve tickled it into his naked back,
When he’s ******* me it spools around my tongue,
I devote myself with every playful smack –
And harder still when certain smacks have stung.

I never thought I’d fall for such a man,
Who smuggles love like drugs inside a coat,
I love loudly just because I can,
The words collect like songbirds in my throat -

Or three boats arranged into a fleet,
To sit behind a hesitating sky,
Sulking with the shyess of retreat,
Billowing with every loaded sigh.

How are you?
the age old question
when we were younger we were trained to say
good thank you
how are you?
politely staring up

How are you?
the age old question
when we are teenagers we say
i'm fine
but how are you?
hiding our emotions
bottling them up

How are you?
the age old question
when we are grown we say
doing well
how are the kids?

But its all an illusion
none of us are really doing fine
none of us want to know how your kids are doing
and we are tired of polite silent stares

so i dare you
next time someone ask the age old question
How are you?
tell them truth
release your bottled up emotions and let them roam
and ponder
and then you will be free

Two goats
Push their heads
Through the gate –
Daintiness
Huffs in the mist.

Chickens march
Pausing to mourn over lumps.

Why don’t they straighten out
Those stones? I said.
I’ll do it myself.
One day I’ll come here
And I’ll do it my ******* self.

The goats race away,
Tripping into each other's backs -
Chasing a happiness
That comes for them every day.

Dearest Reader, I urge you to beware
Upon entering this place- it might give you a scare
Critters snarl and slink and sneer
Do you dare to enter here?
The darkest things shall come to light
In this house, this house of night
Things that hide and scurry away
Things that fear the light of day
And there is something you should fear:
These things shall come to surface here
For everyone has a secret
A past, a demon, a regret
You must come out and face them or here forever you will remain
Broken, bent, twisted, and inexplicably insane.

What is the purpose of life?
“Art” says the artist.
“Love,” says the maiden.
“To inspire” says the writer.
“War” says the soldier.
“Humor” says the clown.
What is the meaning of life?
“Horror,” said the monster.
“***” said the harlet.
“God” said the Christian.
“Beer,” said the drunkard.
“Adventure,” said the explorer.
“The ****,” said the murderer.
“Entertainment,” said the ringmaster.
“To enlighten the mind,” said the philosopher.

“Poetry” says the poet.

Get me my old school photograph
And I’ll point out every boy that
I ever kissed
Or even just dreamed of kissing.
Him?  Linguistic brilliance,
Chewed the skin either side
Of his fingernails, red
Raw they were.
And him? A map of acne
On his back, felt like
Braille,
And him? Such
Almond eyes,
Like milk allergies.
I take photos of every beautiful thing
I’ve ever seen.

The devil is in the details,
And God is in them too.

History repeats on us,
One life holding the gown
Of the next,
Waiting for its turn;
Just look at how the future greets us,
With a capful of
Utter unconcern.

I want to be of use to you,

But my memories
Are not admired by most –
They involve love and only love,
Or desire described as love
And floating
In the sky of a castle
with a hatful of flowers boasting ‘now’.

I’ve tickled it into his naked back,
When he’s ******* me it spools around my tongue,
I devote myself with every playful smack –
And harder still when certain smacks have stung.