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Liturgy of the Hours

every night you were away

i sought you out

through blackberry bramble ether

from weeping constellations above dixmyth avenue

to jessamine county barns filled with horse hay

perpetually wrapping blue ribbon around my finger

whispering vespers

my plea to the particles of the universe

to hold you together

to bring you back from oblivion

as you had done for me

you are my chosen family

inextricably part

of my thunderous heart

to which you will always hold the latchkey

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my desire becomes primitive

when i consider the way

loving him is more than emotion

it is biological


our own space on the periodic table


i want him

with the parts of me that desire

to nurse children

eat meat

wear fur

find warmth in firelight

especially when

i am beneath him

skin wet

my hands in his beard

watching the muscles ripple

from his shoulders

down his arms


i could remain there

until the next ice age

poetry writing

two lumps

Sunday is the day

your old ghosts,


and crushing failures

drop in

for a spot of tea.

art biology happiness history literature nature politics punk religion science Uncategorized

amongst tender blossoms

Gregor Mendel

Gregor Mendel

was a Moravian scientist

and Augustinian friar,

who in the mid 1850’s,

became the father

of genetics

and heredity,

through his experiments

with plants bearing peas.

My playful mind envisions him

amongst tender blossoms

applying color and size,

dominance and hybridization,

to the Punnett square

within his thoughts.

Given over to whimsy,

I concoct a notion

of the genius

preparing for Easter feast,



with marshmallows

to provide God,


and Seraphim

little angel shaped Peeps.


ecology epidemeology pandemics science

it’s the end of the world as we know it

i’m ready to pop the cork

on that bottle we’ve been saving

and have apocalypse sex

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing


finds me in need
of a proper bending over
if only
to improve
my disposition

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

water and salt

grief is a sloppy drunk
slurred stumble leaning
into unresolved dark corners
of our lives

the moment you think
you’ve placed him down for the night
into a reasonable bed

here he comes again
breathing his sickly sweet
bourbon breath

how will i ever forget
where our statues stood
before the corrosive
passage of time

water and salt

form glacial streams
down weary faces

marking the ones who love us

this is what we began with

this is what we leave behind

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

phone book thrones

it is an accepted truth of passing science
that shorter people live longer

i always rationalized
that there is more likely to go wrong
amidst miles of spine, veins, and limbs

but that’s not the reason

it’s mind over matter

discovering this because of my own
diminutive stature

it is impossible to feel old

when your swaying feet
don’t find the floor
beneath the bar stool

enduring a lifetime of
phone book thrones

when one is perpetually
reaching for things
with the assistance
of a nearby chair