A book of poems about my childhood and my death. My notebook, of course. Whiskey and wine. Your old t-shirt. Enough good bread and good cheese to keep me alive, to soak up… Continue reading


Let’s drag it through the mud, let’s leave grubbing handprints everywhere, we take what we want. Tonight and every other night I wait for you to stop dismantling. Three years on the yolk,… Continue reading

dead weight

I shed one thousand pounds just walking away from you without stopping, just stepping out of our life and leaping upward. I don’t know who I am I don’t know where I am… Continue reading


Day after tomorrow I’m driving into the woods to set a fire and chant, and carve out the same words. I need to do something concrete, I need to feel like I’m moving… Continue reading

polter, zeit

And speaking of ghosts, that’s you and me wandering around trying not to wake each other. Trying not to reflect in the inky blackness of these big windows. Trying not to leave and… Continue reading


It’s free time so I might as well smoke a joint. I am a rocket ship launched on the mission it was built for. I unwrap the package time has made for me.… Continue reading


I am telling ghost stories. The imprints of my life that were left behind. I light a candle because it’s part of the ritual, the seance, calling the ghosts. The pain that made… Continue reading

lollipop rock

When you go out I worry that you’ll be arrested for selling weed, that someone will drive right into your motorcycle, that you will fall in love with someone else. You say you… Continue reading

fur and claws

Every day I build us taller, wider at the base. I find a place for this, for that. I kiss your waiting mouth. I cook elaborate meals and wash all the dishes by… Continue reading


I remember you ten years ago, in your bedroom, playing a game on your computer. I had eaten hallucinogenic mushrooms for three days and was so tired. I laid in your bed and… Continue reading