Thursday, March 21, 2013


Because you had the word placed

In the forehead of your

Facebook profile that morning

and because I had never

seen that word before

 I found a picture on-line

A nest of forgotten phalluses

Photosynthesized in an

Orphaned bouquet of spring


Wondering what the film of

This dilled botany feels like

as it enters your mouth

dripping between the

hyphen of your lips


And how after we spoke


I wanted to can the rich

Stream of your sentences

in a mason jar of acidic brine

preserving the Chlorophyll

of new beginnings

the fermented heart

salted and stowed in vinegar


so that you might devour it slowly


one esculent chomp at a time.

--for Carolina de Luca

Tuesday, March 05, 2013


...has been admittedly getting laid less since I've been sprinkling sensa on my girlfriend's vagina  prior to foreplay. It has been 'tricking' my brain into thinking I've had more sex...I've also inexplicably loss three pant sizes.. (no shit, and 20 pounds since the holidays, plus quashing vices... life is good)....

First Plaboy

             First Playboy

Stowed between coffin lid
mattress and frame
as if tucked in a church pew
I waited long past the hyphen of light
diminished in a whispered
 horizontal slant
beneath the door of
my parents’ bedroom down the hall
the room where I was conceived
grade school autumn, sixth grade
counting the follicles of adolescent
fur sprouting like a dried holiday
wreath around the nest of my anatomy

 stationary white of my torso
 body a stiff peg on a hat rack
 that has never been used
Confirmation bible on
 chin of nightstand
prayers supplicated
 offered two hours earlier

on caps of knees

 How I remember kissing the minty lips
of Renae Howard in the rain
in Westlake parking lot
freshman year,

her body, taller than mine

walking as if on stilts,

 being unable to refrain

from trying to enter her shy
smile like a voyeuristic


watching as her eyes hush close
 an automatic garage door
not being to understand how wet
he mouth felt inside

wondering what would happen

if I got her alone on the leather chariot
on her living room couch

long past the rectangular tongue

of the rented VHS tape had protruded
and self-ejected at us in envious scowl

the blizzard scratch and static
allegro accompanying us

imagining what she would look like

with a bunny tail and ears
wondering if the sun porch

could pass for a grotto

groping the glossy bulletin
\scrolled kaleidoscope
The center flapping out
in a trinity of frames

 guts a stain glass drape

bannered over an athletic stadium
heralding a pennant

the windows of author profiles
 blurred comics, dimensions, busts sizes
fetishes, Hef with his pipe
trying to find the Easter rabbit on

the front cover as if with a monocle

 I groped my flesh

 a relay baton,

a diploma from a  commencement

ceremony that somehow would never arrive.