bluegrass and white fences

has a way about it
that feels
both timeless
and impermanent
without ever
choosing a side

festivities literature sociology

guest list

no one

at this crowded dinner party

is you


activism addiction Americana analysis art behavior Uncategorized

posthumous letter mailed to the marvelous hunter s. thompson at his trashy extended stay suite nestled on the briny shores of hell’s lake of fire



hey louisville,

long time no hear from, don juan try hump fat

i’m about to get waynesburg on your stubborn ass

and i want you to know for years

i forgave you for blowing your head off,


i applauded your ballsy choice

you were nothing if not consistent

you were proof the most intelligent and keen amongst us

are prone to depression, suicide, and addiction,

because we understand how fucked up the world can be

and simply can’t bear the soul sucking siege and insult of it

no one should be made to suffer,

but you should be alive now

we need your voice now

more than ever,

gonzo journalist,

who thought the best was behind you

and it had only just begun

n’ don’t you tell me all the best kentuckians die young and grandly

you’re dead as a damned door nail

you can’t talk back

and  aye, that’s the rub,  old friend

i’m so mad at you for going away

if you weren’t already dead

i’d shoot you again myself


love you, fucker


history Jazz Kentucky Music poetry Uncategorized war writing

little bighorn

my smile fades

from the smell of

unexpected onions


fourth shot of whiskey poised

in my left hand


you rise in my throat

bile and reflux

but you are nothing

if not consistent


molested by the memory

of you

endlessly comparing me

to that damned bottle

of bourbon




stately noble bird

amber eyed Kentucky royalty

worthy of addiction

who will kick your ass

if you don’t mean it

not for beginners

or the faint of heart

yet somehow



and to hell with you still

i say

you and your Custer decisions


when you make your last call

last stand

each night

succumbing to the same

faulty strategy


sulk in your warm bath and remember

you lost to the indians

all on your own


(slams her shot in a way only bartenders and the triumphant understand)



Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

for thinking that my love could hold you

last night
i dreamed of willie nelson

we were on the paint peeled veranda
of a dilapidated southern plantation

talking the morning away
as country people are given to do

drinking fresh squeezed
orange juice
over the bones of kentucky colonels

a wild turkey bottle
crying fowl
beneath our rocking chairs

i stood
pushing through the screen door
in my white sun dress
telling him i had designs on frying him
some eggs and sausage
scratch biscuits n’ pepper gravy
grease being the best hangover cure

he responded with an
a-men and a tip of his hat

as i took a rolling pin
over flour sprinkled dough
the notes began to float into the kitchen

i heard him picking the strings of his guitar

i’m crazy
crazy for thinkin’
that my love
could hold you

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

glamour gal

i have the legs
of an angry ballerina
battleship hips
and stevedore arms

i laugh too loudly
but often cover my mouth
to hold the ecstasy inside me

i punched your uncle who was in the navy
at your christmas party

i spike my orange juice
with bourbon and honey

i’ve been known
to leave the house
wearing two different pumps

perhaps only one eye
of makeup done

makes it so
i sometimes get dizzy when i’m driving
or wearing heels
and fall down
let us hope it’s a day
i have no panties on

i’m a poet
so i sit around
in the orange gloam
of after dinner evening
with other writers
coffee mugs in hand
discussing why it is
we haven’t slept
in years

and what it means when your piss smells
like a fresh roasted tanzanian nigerian blend

i can’t be anywhere on time
there exists a curve in my very existence
but i’m from the south
i do everything slowly
and with great deliberation

i masturbated in the tub once
and nearly drowned

such the glamour gal

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

because i love you too much, baby

this may be my kentucky talking
but i’d like to drink your
poser grandiose shtick
under the fucking table
then beat the shit out of you
with a wild turkey bottle

knock your ass out cold
leave you on a floor
bar napkin poem on your chest
in a honkey tonk outside memphis

elvis singing suspicious minds
as i walk out the door

you’ll love me forever
once you come to

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

see rock city

kentucky exists as
a painful dichotomy
for the native

it is lush green
awe inspiring in its beauty

bourbon distilled
crystal blue lakes
giving way to ancient streams

bluegrass growing atop
a bloody history
rich in the red clay

rolling cattle and horse farms
all the homegrown vegetables you can eat

but nestled into the picturesque hills
resides a poverty
like nowhere else in the nation

i come from a place so poor
the quality of life so brutally entrenched
few escape
the jobless rate
tobacco tumors
shorter life expectancy
and a disability check

dirty politicians
dirty preachers

absolute segregation
in lincoln county
all the black folks live on water street
because that’s where they’re welcome

you see
it’s still 1955 where i’m from
but a little more backwards
because now there’s crystal meth
to pair with
celebrated ignorance
taught as religion

people convinced they’ll burn in hell
if they don’t donate to jesus and republicans

i go back from time to time
to see my mother

being down home isn’t quite death
but you can feel it crawling up your sleeve

when my time comes
give me dignity
burn my body
cast my ashes back to the sea

i don’t want my bones
trapped there
to endure eternity

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

smoke on the mountain

went away for four days
i changed
the world remains the same
all it took
was two tanks of gas
maker’s mark
a little smoke on
the mountain
an act of god
and a man who
will never be my husband

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing


i’m not sorry for using words
you don’t understand at times

i’m not sorry for writing things
no one wants to face
because it forces you
to consider your own bullshit

i’m not sorry for using improper punctuation

it’s car crash poetry

i’m not sorry for my big tits
my muscular legs and boy ass

my age
or my southern drawl

i’m not sorry for my flask of bourbon
how my use of the word “fuck” bothers you

i’m not sorry for being angry at the human race
for our collective suck

if you hate me so much
why can’t you stop reading, johnny?