Stars replicate in the slumber of frustration


There was a time I could taste the naiveness

It was ivory and whipped, wide eager eyes waiting for a new layer of pipedream

walnut and coffee - an English black bird - rolling eyes in the tube - the pride of the drum in my ears


Now it bleeds in mountains of dirty snow

and it hurts, so deep

precisely as feisty rats bickering, scratching with insane nails my heart.


gagging, cascading

all the love

in salivated bits

all stuck in my sore throat


I don't know how to stomach

the infinite devouring me


as I see my son grow up

as I see my body dying

as I see the world burning

as I try to conceive parallels and timelines and paradoxes and realities


splintering my mind


my mouth,

lo, where it shouldn't be



ashes and tears

thin streams of the milky way


Too late I realized

it was me

the one t'was

snatching carcasses

from the graveyard in the sky

On The Road


The fragrant air, so muddy in the shining night


Rolling merrily as possessed by salty demons

Licking the long dusk, the grapy dusk

The most inner part of me


In wilderness

As in madness

Tears are whispered

No contempt –

Across the grids

In the fabled tinsmith of my mind

fleeting life, joy, kicks, darkness

not enough night

In the thin drizzle of rain


On the road,

Back to you.