poetry
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The Musty and the Dusty
Bland consumerism is not my cup of tea. Faddy materialism does not provide me glee but for the musty and the dusty I’ll take a second look. Continue reading
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Grubby Hoarder
With the aid of eraser, you scribe with devotion. So you can serve art with no trepidation. Continue reading
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Tyrannous Exemplars
Who judges your heroes with honesty and fair play? Not you who gobbles up any word that they say. Continue reading
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Float
Some of us float; we do not need boats. We’ve no need to gloat; we don’t sugarcoat. Continue reading
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Tiny, Teeny, Weeny
The chance of reunion is tiny, teeny, weeny like some law enacted by cruel des-tee-nee. Drop your hope to avoid crashing into ruin. Continue reading
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I Used to Love the Rain
I used to love the rain. Play poet, a recluse, and some shit. Best friend of gloom. Companion of melancholy. Continue reading
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Spring Cleaning
Rut from the traveled distance bars your growth from commencing. Sturdy boulder on the stairs hinders you from ascending. Phony woman’s tattle makes you prone to stupid sinning. Before you know it—trapped! Caught in a nonsensical looping. Continue reading
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Own It
I could list a few reasons why I didn’t own it. Despite the triumph, it seemed that I phoned it in but I didn’t; if only I had known it. Should’ve been prouder that I had grown it. Continue reading
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Who Do I Have to Thank?
Who do I have to thank for this newfound spirit, unearthed me from the grave, reminded me to do it? I camped right at the base but never topped the mountain. Imagined but never drank from the holy fountain. Continue reading
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Fabricated Vacation
Our crazy obsession with collecting and boasting somehow becomes a hindrance to moving. Continue reading
Xeno Hemlock 