For Nairb Eeryt

the moment you turned & walked into the room

my world went Peckinpah

explosions of laughter

and parking garage lore

you are the unlikeliest surprise

a penultimate friendship

my war horse riding brother

charging beside me off

to our generation’s wars

in armor made from James Joyce t-shirts

imagine my uncorked shock

to meet a lion experimental

unmormon poseidon

over-the-rhine renaissance

gypsy king

this day is your birthday

you sit back all Kerouac

this day is for breaking someone else’s heart

so stick around

i’m gonna read this poem out loud to you from a stage

my next gig in town

& there’s a band I wanna go see with you

every tomorrow night

addiction Americana art death fairy tales family


you should’ve stuck around, Dad

antidepressants were only

a few years away

or smoked pot


it’s so ironically wrong that you obliterated yourself

in Kentucky

when marijuana

was the top cash crop

in the state


the devil you know

there you are
right on cue
as if you personally orchestrated
my having been born
in September
the devil you know
swelling and morphing
through my dreams
your face changing
wearing various masks
such grand theatre
i weep
destroy my sheets
crying out in the night
reddest blood flowing
into marzipan rivers
oh my dear
how beautifully we suffer
this tether
my soul was lost
in an apple orchard
faded to ether

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to be a poet this day

i suppose

i’m too happy

to be a poet this day

happy people tend to write

bloody awful poetry


i’m not drunk

i’m not high

i don’t need a spike

i like working in the city

i’m not heartbroken nor homeless

i’m not lonesome

i’m not horny

i’m not at war with god


my childhood

or a neighboring country

i’m not married or divorcing

i rather love my imperfect children

this is a poem for my fellow writers

heavy bleeders of ink

succumbers to whim

dancers of vehemence and fury

freedom fighters of the fantastic

who dream in crusades

look how beautiful you are when you smile

you smell of lavender

newsprint and vanilla icing

all this

and i get to say

tomorrow is my birthday

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

today is pete rose’s birthday

today is pete rose’s birthday
a few years before
he bet on baseball
a meteor turned dinosaurs into petrol
for powering cars on trips to sports stadiums
and the zoo
i mention them together
neither charlie hustle nor the ancient beasts
get proper credit
where credit is due

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

i could die today chanting

i’ve been loved
i’ve been loved
i’ve been loved

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

only love remains

in his kitchen counter leaning
day dreams
i am always sunday morning seated
in my designated chair
by the window
wearing my just out of bed best
reflecting all of it in the coffee

the light and shadows
an imperfect world has to offer

we are absent mythology to each other

the regrets of dead parents know best
baby, i’m sorry about your mother

thank you
for conjuring and reminding my father
it’s my birthday

i’d like to think
he’s out there somewhere
lighting me
a candle topped cupcake
in heaven

there are days
when i can’t tell the two of you apart

only love remains

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

hay and apples

sunday is my 36th birthday
so i find myself looking down
into my arms
why i’m still carrying this shit around

today is fucking friday
and fridays are for freedom
they’re for setting fire to people
who deserve a good burning

all my rotten wood is collected
moments of chocolate covered regret
soured creamy feelings
and behavior patterns more injurious
than self mutilation

the gas can in my hand

trusty zippo in the other
ready to take flight

your army will be driven into the sea

i will eat your war

i will eat your god beliefs

i will eat your evil

i will eat your rules

i will eat your academic snobbery

and still have time

to eat some pussy

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

victim pool

to consider his victim pool
is quite staggering

all of them spent time
lashed to a provisional chair
a designated corpse
forced to wear a party hat

yet once they hacked their own arms off
to escape his attic constraints
each went on
to wondrous achievements

and it’s not because life with him
is an exclusive prep school for young women
with only one degree field offered
in overcoming sadomasochism

though it may be a touch to spite him

he abhors being less than
because bitch
you’ll never be equal to

no, no

it’s that he has a predilection
for attempting to destroy
the most beautiful things

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

my big brother richard

today you turn 49
and i’m six weeks away
from becoming 36

and i need you to know
before we drink ourselves
to a reasonable death

i love you

some of the happiest moments of my life
were spent as super baby
flying above
my big brother richard’s
running through the house
super hero head

i remember every hug
you’ve ever given me

because you made me believe i could fly
before i learned to walk