Why Do I Like Being Alone?

Why do I like being alone?

Cast iron smells hellacious.
Voices are diggers,
And my skin is soft.
Victims hiss when
Their yoke is sucked
From their mouths like a breath.
Spare me the torture
Of day sailers
And night sailors.

I am coming to a stop within me.
No cracker
Ever tasted so neat.

The Last Painting

Labored seeing –
The artist as his canvas drifts away.

The IV hums a little.
They only let him squeeze
The morphine button every five minutes.

4 out of every 5 minutes
Is a dog gnawing on his body.

He begs…
One more painting and I will go
Without complaint.

Less of You

The advertisement promised diligent bread.
The sort of thing that will eat for you

While you bask prideful in a fashionable,
Contemporary hunger.

The world loves you as it loves itself.

That’s why it wants less of you, Dear.
Of course.

Don’t doubt.
There is a new job coming,
To be done by someone else.

Hell Is

It rains on desert,

The jagged rocks crusted
With love letters to Dante.

He had the levels of hell all wrong.

There is so much dancing,
But the music is atonal,
And pestilence bores holes through
The dancers’ feet.

Hell is a life if obligator dancing.


Justice is a poor best friend,
Sticking knives in me
Where I can see them.

I reach for the cookie
He slaps me gently
I smell the desiccated marsh

He holds my hand on rollercoasters.
It wouldn’t be fair
For me to die when I
Have been so innocuous

But the tide looked
Innocuous and the
Fish is dead.

I am not a reed in the marsh.

When he takes me home
He always takes the
Long route


Help the baby in cashmere
This is a heinous place
To be born.

I have been in the spider’s
Web a long time,
Most of me liquified.


She keeps a little of
Me alive
For amusement

There are bitter stones
With no water to
Wear them away

Find a garden somewhere
Lay him down beside the bees
Name him Adam.