all the words



wip your second hand

your name became a scroll across the bottom of the screen today – followed by dead. needle. arm. and I wonder if at the moment when your second hand stopped you knew the gravity of it, or did it surprise… Continue Reading →

WiP Bonfire

you’re erased. not even the ghosted outline remains of your print on this space, and I feel like I should be standing on your grave instead of on the ashes of a life you left with so much ease… I’ve… Continue Reading →

WiP beautiful

as I’ve grown older I’ve come to know, what I’ve believed about beautiful is no more than paint to a canvas, chisel to marble, words to a page – malleable, fixable – even erasable – The North Star won’t change… Continue Reading →


You, who has as many alibis as enemies, still rake across the tired paths we created long ago. Dragging Charon’s stick, your smile, full of blacks and bony whites, Still haunts the very image I once held in such regard…. Continue Reading →

Before the First Draft

The problem, she said, with being a writer is, it’s never done. The line never ceases movement even when the end arrives – The ripples created on the mind span an ocean so vast, so incomplete, There’s no shore to… Continue Reading →

i’ll never forget those

I’ll never forget those you rip away. Your signature is unmistakable, Scars across the ground that may grow over, may look healed but never will – We’ll still see, and we’ll know. As long as we remember, you will never… Continue Reading →


Enough now. Enough of the stops, don’ts, doubts, blank stares at empty pages. The Death card has turned up for ego – so small yet so loud – a sparrow’s cry in a canyon echoing – an illusion of bigness…. Continue Reading →

those who feel truth

those who feel truth see yours. you cannot disguise it from me. a soul – buried – its last defense against your injured ego – a venomous dictionary at its tongue’s tip – nearly always used to hide truth and… Continue Reading →


Funny, what I remember – “Exit, pursued by a bear – best stage direction ever,” then a one-cheek Duck Soup laugh. Cigarettes, brown straw hair, jeans, plaid shirts not lately laundered. Stuff of the ordinary. Extraordinary – compelling me to begin… Continue Reading →

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