Monthly Archives: September 2009

servile flatterers

syc’ o phan-cy syc’o-phan tic syc’ o-phan’ti-cal syc’o-phan ‘ti-cal-ly i will tell you what you want to hear   tell me stories of who you know   what these gods of worship      have whispered in attentive ear      what praise have    you have … Continue reading

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arrested development

daddy’s ashamed        of his little boy        knows his obsession is unhealthy     has known it all these years     offered to pay for therapy   suggested medication    is proud of sonny’s work    but cringes at the lengths and depths he has      sunk to   cringes at the foot of this … Continue reading

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the way to go

Ah, to die in one’s sleep Perhaps the most peaceful passing Never more to be tormented by Earthlings’ self-inflicted Atrocities                                         Phil Polizatto, author of “Hunga Dunga, A True Novel”

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when i was 12

and circling the plywood tables in earth books & gallery you weren’t alive yet   when i was 15 sneaking into the back door of the cheetah club to see the doors you weren’t alive yet   when i sat … Continue reading

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clear

your letters make sense now.. thoughtful cool funny… you see the bullshit around you with such clarity now that you can’t see… see you soon

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pockets in gainesville

walkin’ with your hands shoved into torn pockets you posed like you had something to hide  protect  hold onto or caress all you have that matters is the love in your daughter’s eyes the rest of this means nothing

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slam:round one:minus 54 grand+counting

when the “gay cancer” hit         loss became a name of the game         friends         lovers               peers           co-workers        a generation     disappeared     those sick lost      weight   jobs    family    friends dignity         as immune systems crashed   quickly     mercilessly    aging the young    crossing brain barrier  to turn young man to old overnite    babies dying in arms … Continue reading

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200 poems

200 mistakes 200 painkillers 200 lies 200 memories 200 reasons why 200 screams 200 questions 200 sleepless nights 200 words 200 regrets 200 dead 200 poems yes 200 poems

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letter from a wise old woman

“I’ve chosen to pick up favorite pens again instead,”  she wrote me.  “It’s the visciousness and cruelty of our current human condition. My choice now is to remove myself from these insipid, whining children of the night.  I experimented for a year, … Continue reading

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aria to air

quello unico che raggiunge è il vostro ego poichè lotta, terrorizzato affrontare la relativa obsolescenza e la vostra oscurità. ricordi: il relativo migliore al burnout che sbiadirsi via. là vi sedete, sbiadetto ed elemosinando per essere notato

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