Forget Me Not

Published April 14, 2018 in Max , Ophelia - 0 Comments

Forget Me Not

Picked this rose in remembrance of you.

And the sage flowers with a splash of blue.

For the sad I feel thinking of you.

I know it’s over, but I can’t stop wanting to be true.

To you.

I just can’t undo the years of holding and having your back.

And I can’t bear the thought of some him with you.

What’s clear is my lack of emotional maturity.

I’m a teenager again,

reverted back to a pot smoking adolescent.

Hanging on your every word and action.

Embarrassing but true.

To you.

Global Swarming

Published April 12, 2018 in Jack Sprat - 0 Comments

Global Swarming

Spring, but it was hot.
Like mid-July heat.
The two dogs wanted inside.
Tommy, the Jack Russell,
was clever enough
to open the screen door himself.
He chose, instead,
to ooze desperation and
the threat of heat stroke.
In the cage was the insect,
a little Pom mix that’s
a tad bit inbred.
Basically, a canine gnat.
Constant jumping, biting
and errrrrrring.
Jack was reluctant
to let either of them in.
“It’ll be cool any minute,
the sun’s going down.
And they’ve got water.”
he reasoned to himself.
“You can’t give in and spoil them,
they’ll walk all over you if you do.”

High Voltage

Published April 9, 2018 in Ophelia - 0 Comments

High Voltage 2

For all her chic thinness
and occasional ice princess mean,
she has an almost
gluten and dairy free
banana pancake air of health.

And just like breakfast,
she makes the rest of your day.
Joy or pure pain,
depending on whether you have
the memory of her or
the thrill of being near.

She could be more beautiful
if she only applied herself.
You know, did her hair a bit more
or put on some lipstick or rouge.

That being said she’s still probably the
single most exceptionally
beautiful woman in the world.

Note to Self

Published April 6, 2018 in Max - 0 Comments

Note to Self2

“I scratched my hand picking roses for you.”

Max wrote.

It was a lie. The cat had done it.

It was also code for,

“I hurt myself trying to get over you.”

Which really felt drama queen pathetic.

It was self-inflicted,

still, he knew he was just playing a role.

And it was a mediocre performance

because he was aware that his script

lacked for something.

Suddenly it came to him,

two turntables and a microphone, that was the answer.

Meta Jane

Published March 31, 2018 in Cintusia , Meta Jane - 0 Comments

Meta Jane

Bill collector,




She shocked me.




Man collective.

She shocked me.

When she changed her name


Meta Jane.

“If you vibe with Meta, call me Meta.”

“If you vibe with Jane, call me Jane.” said Meta Jane.

“If you vibe with Meta Jane, then call me for dinner.

I’ll be there with bells on.”

Code Talk

Published March 26, 2018 in Max - 0 Comments

Code Talk

Max was half asleep on the couch,

watching a rerun of the Dick Cavett Show.

A fat Orson Wells was the guest

musing about being visited by “the black dog”

Churchill’s euphemism for depression.

“Hmpf” he snorted at the tv, “What does he know?”

Petting his little black companion,

inbred and manic.

He reached down and took the rock

that it was chewing from it’s mouth.

“Not the brightest in the litter, were you?”

The pooch licked his face

and dug his head into his armpit.

Fret Me See

Published March 20, 2018 in Hobos , Tuck - 0 Comments

Fret Me See

My wife gave me a one way Greyhound ticket to Vegas.

She threw in $37.58 in loose change.

Told me she wanted me out of her life.

I didn’t believe it though.

Deep down, I think she just wanted to set me free.

Let me out of the ball and chain thing that

I have never been good at.

I’m grateful and there’s a whole country

of freight trains with my name on them.

Or they will once I tag them

with my nom de plum: Tuck.

They called me that cause I’m good at hiding.

I’m not bad at lying either.

Feening the Almighty

Published March 15, 2018 in Hobos - 0 Comments

Feening the Almighty3

Had the DTs in Cheyenne.

Jumped an empty boxcar north.

Hid under abridge pillar next to the Air Force base.

Sat my backpack down in the corner.

My vodka fell out when I made the jump.

Once I made Greybull I was in terrible shape.

2 men tried to kill me and take my gear.

Only they weren’t real.

The rail yard police pinched me for trespassing

and I told them I was attacked.

They asked me how much I’d been drinking.

Wound up in a local hospital

where I got a valium injection and

and a shot of Haldal in my left ass cheek.

Never had it that bad before.

The Mouths of Babes

Published February 28, 2018 in Mickey - 0 Comments

The Mouths of Babes

Crisp Saturday morning,

grass still wet with dew.

Red cardinal stopped to survey the scene.

Mickey threw the ball

to little three year old Jacob.

Catching it the boy asked

“Daddy, do you believe in God?”

Taken aback slightly,

“Yes, I do.”

Then, in kind.

“Do you?”

“God brought me to you”, the boy said, matter of fact.

Mickey dropped the ball,

felt a rush of emotion

that he didn’t want the boy to see.

Card People

Published February 25, 2018 in Mickey - 0 Comments

Card People

Some nights it seems like a flat world with eight sides.

One for each day of the week

and one for hyperbole and dreams.

And if lady luck don’t give a fuck,

Mickey could look out over a sea of chips;

red, white and blue

and see Mother earth’s seven seas

as seven great head hunting mouths

ready to devour him and his American boy past time.

He couldn’t believe this guy had such a disgusting tell.

But it was plain to see.

Every time he had a bad hand

he picked his nose and rolled it between his fingers.

Smelled it.

“It came from your nose, there’s nothing to smell!”

Mickey wanted to scream.

But he kept quiet, checked

and took his entire pile of chips.

And a big squeeze off the hand sanitizer.