Bits Of An Insomniac

composed late at night, from amongst chaos and coffee

the borders of our being

There's just not enough hand, To hold all this sky, To cradle this dust-worn land, To cradle your hurt-torn sigh... There's just not enough lip, To form all these words, To gracefully let slip, The sounds like wild birds. And... Continue Reading →


and where was man

Baptize the earth with their blood and- The streets are built on bones and mud and- The wolf howls at a frightened moon and- The trees freeze still, come afternoon, and- The birds of war shriek, mournful, starved- For the... Continue Reading →

love-list letter to my hometown

sky for parchment, wind for pen- love-list letter flung over this town- let it rain. How I fell in love with these streets and this dirt and this salt-wet air, again, even as I'm saying good-bye, even as I'm going... Continue Reading →

Lights so bright they’re blinding

Like Lady Macbeth, The old woman wept- Out damned spot! Out! This here lot, Refuse to see the rot, Out damned spot, I say. We cannot talk of grief today- This here sky fits only sun, They'll shun the one... Continue Reading →

Soap and lies and other things

Lavender and honeysuckle, bubble gum or pear, All this soap- Lends the hope, That we can somehow mask the stench of Here, All the thoughts we bare, All the failures we dare- There is time and luxury to mask the... Continue Reading →

of hope and desolation in Odessa

At gut level, Odessa is a wordless space of early dark, clean cold, wild dogs, soup and oranges- and lots and lots of wild, clever, candy- hungry girls. Trying to tell the story of anyone or anything- like trying to... Continue Reading →

Mysticism in my coffee

Spoon of sugar, heavy roast brew, Space of stomach, thoughts of you- cast the water upon your hurt- Worship all this world has wrought.   In destruction, we bowed our heads- I prayed to God (you wished Him dead)- I... Continue Reading →

self-sabotage (or- an ode to the hopeless)

a daily misfortune- I swallowed the sun, winter afternoon the day's half gone- and all last night's inspirations, I've kicked them in the heart- and those plans and aspirations, have surrendered at their start.

nothing dressed up in something like the truth

sometimes all we can do is skirt the unthinkable, and create a confession of hints and references- create a diversion with metaphors and similes and veiled rhymes- and oftentimes, all you can say is nothing at all what you mean,... Continue Reading →

Blog at

Up ↑