i sent it to her

she had a blue dress
on the ground with sticks and leaves
me breathless, watching.



Pull safety pin.
Operating is instinct,
And all fires, gone.


It is too late now.
Gurgle, bubble, fizzle, brap!
Angry guts of mine.


halves halves and more halves
on halves, i've wasted paper
never feeling whole



she was cute i guess
A face like a china doll
far too innocent


the end was near

i would like to apologize for forgetting about this blog for a while.
i'm going to do my best to try and make it work like it once did.

on a couple of side notes, everyone should go to Sunny Outside Press and get Hosho McCreesh's new book of poems, "For All These Wretched, Beautiful, & Insignificant Things So Uselessly & Carelessly Destroyed..." because it's amazing and he has supported the 5/7/5 project, so it's only fair that he gets support from us.

and of course, if you haven't ever checked it out, head on over to the GPP and see what they're all about.

tell your friends.

think, type, submit.



to lie still, be silent

as the last light of
the afternoon stretches cat-
like across his face

she is feigning sleep--
like some demi-deity,
thinking: this is good.


friday nights

that euphoria
only lasts until the next
time your eyes open.


i wonder when the
day will come when i decide
to begin real life

so far this year nothing has been accomplished

instead of trying
to fix the things we've done, let's
just try something new


ski lift

He thinks of mentors
and the mentors will torment.
They are tormentors.