art happiness holidays love love poetry poetry pop culture punk relationship studies relationships science Uncategorized


love is an unsupervised child

with bad intentions

and a chemistry set

poetry sociology

requiem for a mix tape

I miss mix tapes.  I miss engineering them from my vinyl collection and other tapes. I miss having them all over the passenger seat of my car. Tapes for driving, tapes for dancing, tapes for running at WT park, tapes for dates…tapes for break-ups you got to pitch when you stopped sulking and started seeing someone else. I miss rewinding unfurled tapes with the perfect size BIC pen. Damn it! I miss mixtapes!


addiction analysis art behavior biology death ecology history humanity nature pandemics poetry religion sociology thanatology war

crashing zeppelin

when a living creature

has an unnatural state

inflicted upon its existence

things rarely turn out well

for the specimen






concentration camps

laboratory foods

pharmaceutical cultures


unhappy marriage




Los Angeles International Airport


the  digital imposition

that is

the internet


yet we can’t stop meddling

with our world


when what remains

of humanity

can no longer see the sun


we will blame pollution

and the microchip


yet it is our own


parasitic instincts


too late to admit

human psychology

was the harbinger

of our own death

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.


Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

on the blue line

he had been loudly staring at me
over his new york times
magazine section
for the duration
of the train ride

his trench coat was wet
so was i

that night
i would have remained seated
until the rockaways
to keep looking into his victor mature eyes

overcome with a case of
girl, you damn well know better
i ran through the doors
just before they closed
at the next stop
on the blue line

he stood against the glass
looking beautiful

as i held fast to the thought

i have a friend close by
on utica avenue
who always wants to go for a drink
after a day of war

and she
gets me pregnant

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