To the Slaughterhouse
No one is home, or maybe they arethey’re just not answeringwe cannot connect fingersacross the electronic divide data mines data
Eddie Sees TV Faces
Eddie sees TV faces when he looks at us. When he sees himself in a mirror he sees himself on
He is Standing Next to You in Line
-Old but a “when are you going to grow up” old. That’s what he is. Still light on his feet
Thick Books of Poetry
Thick books of poetry are dauntingseemingly taunting from behind their coversraising phrases that could’ve been yoursbut pushed by others we
Symbiosis
I tilt away from hearing her as she explains her nature as though it were a theatrical arrangement to a
Of Raw Quality
I am an onion beneath the surfacea bulb petrified by the flashI think myself into faceinto attentioninto mass reflectioninto oblivious
A Stepsister’s Funeral
All it is is flipping the visual around to the other person’s perspective. That fear and anger with which you
Average Means
Like every aging manI think about the things I would do or say different if given a do overthe others
Conversation Between Two Characters Who Wish Not Be Defined as Self
Ooh, I get so mad I could scream; and I do! Yes. Everybody else too. No. Everyone doesn’t have the
Wound to the Clock
Blinded by the clockcounting dollarsindexing worth to secondschained to interestworth in existenceI am an hour Everything I say or doleaves
Near Zero Blog 