Sunday, November 25, 2012


Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

Dunno what the hell happened
to ol' Duke
who was the swarthiest of our little band
of outsiders
with hair blacker than used motor oil 
in that whitebread town
who would sit behind the girls
at the movie show
and chant just beneath his breath: piece o' butt...
piece o' butt...

Who one night when we sneaked onto the 
grounds of the high school
with Molotov cocktails in hand
lit one and flung it 
and the flaming projectile
bounced off the side of the brick building
and struck him in the back
and started his brand new jacket afire
and the rest of us cackled until we could
no longer catch our breath...

Who one night as I chauffeured  us
aimlessly around town 
in my cherry-red Ford that everybody recognized
we passed the movie theater
where we saw this big ugly brute 
named "Moose" loitering outside--
with his finger excavating his nasal cavity
and leaned out his window and shouted
"Pick you nose and wipe it on you suit!" 
and I sensed immediately that
somehow I would be the one to pay for that...

And so it was one night we were stopped
along a country road
chugging some beers
and who of all people came along
but Moose and company
and he grabbed me and growled:
YOU'RE the one who yelled
and I marveled at his exact recall of Duke's phraseology
all the while knowing it would do no good
to even try to explain
and getting shoved into that ditch 
didn't really hurt, man,
not like conjuring up 
those beautiful images does now. 

Friday, November 23, 2012

INTERVIEW (with the vampire?)

Hey kids, for a little more  insight into my brain, (such as it is) check out the interview that Isadora Gruye conducted with me over at  Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads! (Just scroll down a little ways until you see my smiling mug!)

Monday, November 19, 2012


Don't get me wrong
I  love lovely language
and imagery
that  gives me goosebumps
for a couple of seconds
but if it all comes out
too wispy
like spun sugar
then I come away hungry

Need something I can bite into
and chew on for a while.
Need to detect
some semblance
of a thought process.
Need it to relate
to something
(like the price of tea in China)
if I'm gonna stay alive
cuz  I just can't survive
on that cotton candy verse...
here comes the hearse.

You're gazing into
your belly button
and you've gotten lost in there
and so have we.
Maybe it means
something to you
but  give me one clue
so I can join in the fun.

Yes you are lonely
and yes
you are horny
and the blood red rose of love
is so prickly and thorny
but what's that got to do
with anything but you?

Your words are exotic
and tacitly erotic
but how many different ways
can you say
I'm psychotic?

Don't think I'm unsympathetic
to what your failed romance meant
but the simple fact of the matter is
that love has made you incoherent!