From July, 2018

Latitude

Clanking chain, the claw that snags, the boat wind-bumped beside the Bat Islands I heard as bad, chop-tossed in my bunk all night I didn’t sleep lost in fear forged from everything I didn’t know and don’t, hear anchor and think anvil heavy under hammer and spark. Say spark and I hear fat rain hissing…

Big Data

Having made sure they touch he waters the pot plants each day and WhatsApp’s a number that may still be his son’s, a Facebook quiz says that if he were a mass murderer he’d be Joseph Goebbels, and his friends enjoy his company but he feels the need to pay the cheque, he decides to…

Cold Summer Showers

River ice jamstuck bridgebent, bang crackpop. He boards his jeep then engines it alive with a twist the big clattering tit & rather than wrangle away straightaway as we all thought he might he sat there contemplating his poopec, bridgebent with his window down & pouring in, flecking his button-down shirt summer rains that somehow…

The Wheres, the Whos, the Whys and Whens and Whats

Side by side they sit in a long row lined up from practical to the most theoretical. Questions of every stripe, from quiet and unassuming to so loud they cannot be drowned out. They often go to bed with you only to awaken you in the morning tapping on your skull like woodpeckers hard at…

On Manet’s Le Dejeuner sur l’herbe

You can’t resist the humor of the notion The painting could be Burroughs’ inspiration for Naked Lunch. This cantankerous conversation with the history of art On the face of it strikes you as some kind of joke – It seems more some wag’s surgically witty snipe At the libertine French than a scene with serious…

What Counts in the End

What if we could get rich From experiences What if our time In exotic places Or even a walk in the woods Counted as valuables Raising our net worth in joy We could display Our adventures like jewels Laid out on a velvet cape My trips to Italy Could have bought a house My bliss…

From the Counter at the Silver Skillet

Table number eight at the Silver Skillet is taking too long and Annette, who calls everyone baby, doesn’t want to be rude but she needs them to hurry the hell up. Her teal scrunchie matches her teal shirt matches her teal eye- shadow, her long nails click on the counter in time with Teresa snapping…

The Rivals

Their rivalry had been afoot for a few years now. Both were well-regarded young writers of novels and short stories, and both men’s work appealed to much the same sophisticated readership. Some reviewers had even ventured to opine that the two were like two peas in a pod, and that their names might almost be…

Just Come Along with Me

“If you want to be a Badger, just come along with me, by the light, by the light, by the light of the moon. If you want to be a Badger, just come along with me, by the bright shining light of the moon.” ~ The Badger Ballad, Professor Julian Olson, 1919   Isaac Moses…

The Poem of Anger

I am writing the poem of anger, and it has never been so easy to write a poem, but when I tell the poem to slow down, take it easy, he leaps from the desk, races down the stairs and out the door. Now the poem of anger is running through crowds of people hurrying…