Sunday, January 18, 2015

Shipwrecked Sailor

I'm a shipwrecked sailor on an island near the sea.
I'm not gonna say I was the first to appreciate a fine ASS. Big butts. But, have you seen my Flickr page? Do you not know that I started many years ago  perfecting the art of photographing  the mystery and curves of  the female butts? So much so, I think you should ask me over to take a picture of yours.

I'm a shipwrecked sailor
with bright tattoos
of places
ive never been
because im stuck here
like you.
I've been thinking of swimming
but the sharks
but the jellyfish
but the,
and rum. 
I'm building a boat. 
Ive survived on my thoughts of
but over time they are fading.
i want something
the cannon fire
the smoke
and revery
I want the treasure
draw me a map. X mark the spot.
I want to pillage and plunder
her body
and mind.


Thursday, January 1, 2015

Start of something


 It has been the longest silence since this began. Then I realize there is no-  this. no - us. Something to start the year off. The lack of ....the need something. this. us.  The breath between words.

Sunday, December 21, 2014

how close do you remember the thunder storms?
 the snow drifts?
the parking lot -
hotel room sex?  how close do you still
keep me
in your heart?
one on one
nobody knows us
we cut the lines
we cut
hiding away- hide you away
we opened up veins - watch 
me - watch you
I want you to open for me
how close do
lie your dirty heart
you still do ?
next to me

Sunday, December 7, 2014


Try to stay around and be good
 but end up  
falling backwards   
split fire-wood to fuel the fire. 
No secret I go where I shouldn’t , look where you hide.
Here is your chance to start thinking up the lies.
Im going to
say your name like I own you
how like our 
every first time is our last time
 you and those wintery eyes
Scratchy throat 
whatever medicine in my head 
messes me up 
makes me miss 
try to stay around
we are always always 

Saturday, November 8, 2014

    The sun over the rail-road tracks is a shiny dot. Heating up the air through the cooler weather we've had the past few days. A small relief now gone.
I'm out back in the warehouse receiving a large shipment of light fixtures. Load on, load off. In and out, in and out. The flow of product, the flow of money, everything is a flow of something, of love...of blood, of life.
    The past isn't real. I warn myself to be careful of how treat memories. I squint through the sunlight it forces me to think of her, the time we spent at that old beach cottage. How it rained for two days and for two days all we did was have sex and watch cable on TV . Everything wet. When the clouds clear she is back from shore. She comes back shiny. She is sticky, salt-sticky, sex-sticky, too-much-sun-sticky.