poetry Short Stories Uncategorized

The Biltmore Poems


four stories above grand avenue

 don’t worry, baby

i see you
and me
what we are
could be

in the cut

taking care
to tear everything down
but each other

what an undeniably fine pair we make

but what looms larger
is what we will never be

uncooperative past lives
casting shadows
over unison laughter and room service trays

don’t worry, baby

i’ll never wear your shirt and wish for you

i won’t read the messages or answer the phone at 4 am when the brown liquor is speaking on your behalf

as an act of mercy
will you please pull your fedora down
and cover your dark eyes
so i do not have to pretend
that i don’t see the way you look at me

as we sit by the window
able to be opened just enough
to save us from the fire
release our smoke rise

but not to fall from this height

never fall

i promise not to fall

in love

don’t worry, baby




sunday morning

eyelid stage curtains rise
before the sun
my streetlight dreams of you
for that which
wakes the world to life

sleeping in a bed
without your body beside me
is an empty gesture

recently left impressions
still warm upon the sheets
i slink
to your side
of the world
hoping the scent of your skin
still lingers in the thread count

our memories hidden under the soft white pillows

i am writhing beneath
your beat
pounded metal drum lovers
sewn to the mattress
in my wanting
to move from this moment

our moans become jazz

bra straps pulled from my shoulders
nightgown torn at the thigh
you lift me to your mouth
crashing lips into my hips

tongue conquering me
our kisses an act of delicious war

i am happy to be slammed
face down
to every inch of you

coming together
inside through and covering

this unending ache
for the
sunday morning
fuck poem




feather pillows

he walked toward me
wearing nothing but a hat
and frank sinatra’s eyes

spinning my silken body toward the 3 am skyline

he pressed my nightgown against window glass

the throbbing metropolis below

i felt his poetry against my thighs

as he whispered
to my shoulder

“Have you ever made love
while watching angels fall?”




just before you left

you walked through the door of my life
as though you were coming home

despite the fact we had aligned
to go off to war together

how long in coming
our handshake had been

both of us weary but grateful
looking as if we had just driven in
from purgatory

i was prepared for every outcome
but you

the way we so naturally cared for each other

pour another drink
throw money on the table
take the keys
offer an arm
roll another one so we can sit by our window and laugh

we survived the flashing random checkpoint lights and leering eyes

applauded for each other
cried for each other

snapped to attention
on reverent common ground

listened entranced as ghosts of dead starlets rang our doorbell

made love with biltmore rooftop aspirations

but what killed me
what changed the world
the reason we now call each other when we’re
driving alone

was the way you kissed me

just before you left

the music



4 replies on “The Biltmore Poems”

could you do me a favor and don’t swing at this pitch…don’t throw me out the window like a fuzzy robe… call me pls

weak suck

you call the single mother
of autistic twins
being raised just above
the mason & dixon of poverty lines
sour shitfaced and drunk
expecting your
malingering brand of alcoholism
to be invited into
her house
to leech off pink skin
because you’ve sucked
all but the marrow out of your dying father’s
social security checks

yeah, it’s him that’s weighing you down
you deluded fuck

no money for rent but plenty for vodka

revolving doors become a choice

you’re a threat to
the public health

go steal more pills off an old lady’s shelf

since your mommy and daddy never said no
i’ll happily take up the fight

you have no strength because you’ve never really struggled

for once you’ll have to save yourself

leave me alone

this relationship/association has ended

because i said it has

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