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affectation Americana crime film forensics funerals journalism mythology nightmares poetry punk rituals travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice war writing

lore

just a man

drag off a cigarette smirk

a walking shell game

snake in a can

so backwards in life

one questions

reports of his death

yet

he would crookedly smile

calling it

legend

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Abelard and Heloise activism affectation Americana Anne Boleyn Art astrolabe astronomy atheism baseball writing battle beauty belief books California cartography cemeteries childhood Christmas chronology cinema civility coffee comedy comfort communication confections crime criminal behavior dance death desserts destruction deviance digital art digital photography divinity domestic violence ecology education electoral process English epicuriosity epidemeology Europe fairy tales feminism festivities film forensics fucking funerals furniture geneology geography girl stuff good reads government government and a lack thereof gratitude happiness health Hell history holidays horror human behavior humanity humor Hunter S. Thompson iconography infidelity insects Jazz journalism Kentucky kindness kinetics Lent life literature local color love love poetry mindfulness mortuary sciences mourning muse mythology nature nightmares non-fiction ornithology pandemics papyrus parenting Paris performance photography physics poetic theory poetry politics pop culture produce psychology public broadcasting publishing punk puppies reading red hair in the morning, fucker grab a cab relationship studies relationships religion religious studies reproductive rights rituals romance science science writing self-care self-love sex sexism sexuality shitty shit shooting stars Short Stories slang society sociology Southern Gothic Southern Living suicide technology thanatology the arts The British Royal Crown theatre theism theology tomes traditions travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice war waste weddings womens studies words writing

Ha!! Me, too…

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Abelard and Heloise activism Americana animals Anne Boleyn astrolabe astronomy baseball writing battle beauty belief bibliophilia biology books botany California cartography cemeteries childhood Christmas chronology cinema civility coffee comedy comfort communication confections corsets crime criminal behavior dance death desserts destruction deviance digital art digital photography divinity domestic violence drawing ecology education electoral process English epicuriosity epidemeology Europe fairy tales family fashion fauna feminism festivities fiction film food forensics fucking funerals furniture geneology geography girl stuff good reads government government and a lack thereof gratitude Halloween happiness health Hell history holidays human behavior iconography Jazz journalism kindness kinetics Lent life literature local color love poetry medicine mindfulness mortuary sciences mourning muse museums Music mythology nature non-fiction Ohio ornithology painting pandemics papyrus parenthood parenting Paris performance photography physics poetic theory politics pop culture produce psychology public broadcasting publishing punk puppies reading red hair in the morning, fucker grab a cab relationship studies relationships religious studies reproductive rights rituals romance science science writing seasons self-care self-love sex sexism sexuality shitty shit shooting stars Short Stories slang society sociology sociopathology Southern Gothic Southern Living suicide technology thanatology the arts The British Royal Crown theatre theism theology tomes traditions travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice war waste weddings women words writing

Poof* Take MY water

https://youtu.be/eg2Kw1jIXOw

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activism Americana art cartography cemeteries death fairy tales festivities film funerals geography Hell horror nightmares non-fiction Ohio poetry punk rituals Uncategorized

midwestern death song

last night

shots rang out

slicing August’s midnight miasma

a quivering queen city listened

as Cherokee bells

echoed over cobblestones

black swan feathers topping lost hopes

filling horse-drawn funeral carriages

eighteen shot

four dead

blood pooling at the base

seven screaming hills

four shootings in Cincinnati

ninety fatal minutes

national news coverage

backlit red images

of our violent infection

suffer do we

these slings & arrows

whispering sacred prayers

to a god unlistening

please make

every bullet fired

explode into a spray

of evening primroses

Categories
baseball writing belief bibliophilia books cemeteries Christmas civility confections corsets crime criminal behavior dance destruction deviance divinity fairy tales film food fucking funerals Hell history holidays horror human behavior humor iconography poetry pop culture punk reading

shock jock

there are times

i feel like the only person alive

who feels that

one Bukowski

was enough

Categories
art behavior destruction film love muse nature poetry psychology Uncategorized

contentment & vine

when you find the corner

of contentment & vine

chaos comes as a dark-eyed lover

yellow cab splashing

through the crosswalk puddle

leaving you nothing but dripping regrets

and the keys to an apartment building

still burning

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Americana art film poetic theory pop culture punk sex Uncategorized

on fire

just for a moment

i want to be

humphrey bogart’s

cigarette

Categories
art film love poetry Uncategorized

The Dutch and the Swiss Don’t Give a Shit About You

fuck lars von trier

loving him

always felt askew

like watching

lars von trier films

or eating fondue

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Americana art behavior books cinema Europe family festivities film happiness holidays Jazz literature local color love Music nature parenthood poetry punk relationship studies rituals sociology Southern Gothic traditions travel Urban Legends writing

my tinsel heart


FB_20141221_09_04_48_Saved_Picturethe twenty-seventh day of december

in a year

we did not share together

.

afterglow of christmas beaming

from the tree

through my scotch-taped-back-together soul

.

tis the season to ache infinitely

.

driving through light strands

of red and yellow traffic

to the art museum upon the hill

.

with the little park beside it

where the son we will never have

took his first wobbly

bear dripping honey grinning steps

.

into your arms as i watched filming

jumping and cooing the way a mother does

over the littlest triumphs

.

but we never were, darling

our lips never touched

.

our breathy kissed love affair

ether white wedding by the sea

raven haired children

are nothing

but a shared

far away dream

.

an assorted pile of glistening

christmas presents

never to be wrapped

accumulating beneath

my tinsel heart

Categories
activism addiction Americana art behavior biology books childhood cinema comedy crime ecology family film government government and a lack thereof happiness history Jazz journalism Kentucky literature local color love Music nature non-fiction pandemics physics poetry politics produce psychology punk relationship studies religion religious studies rituals science Short Stories sociology Southern Gothic suicide thanatology the arts theatre travel Uncategorized war writing

you’re so much like daddy, be the death of me

my father died in 1984

i haven’t been able to remember his voice since 1986

and the sound of a voice

is the most precious thing to me

but this morning

your twang brought back synapses who longed for three decades to remember

“Daddy loves you, Alicia, be a good girl”

(and i died a thousand deaths in the minutes still ringing after)

and how five minutes later

out the front door

would go all my mother’s clothing

and our Zenith console TV

thank you for that

saddle up, cowboy

give me immortality

you’re so much like daddy

be the death of me