Book o’ Verse

Harmonize those ages into a blur from 5-year-olds to 17-year-old giants with smooth tones taller than people louder than people vibrating and our little folks singing next to them us all shaking in our seats.

I will eat pizza and oversized subs and drink soda. We’ll tear stretch rubber masks off cranky senior delinquents. They have their complaints. I have complaints too. You don’t see me acting out. Snoopy and Scoob will tug and growl over a torn blanket. The girls will help me fold my zig-zag t-shirt at night. … Read more

The coffeeshop is fluttering today. Six or seven denim-coated guy-legs shock the tiled floor. Silent soft bouncing. They shake the air. Crinkle your vision. There’s a lot of energy under these tables.

I write espresso poems now the way I used to write about cigarettes. My old fumbled word love to white ash the hard-dented tan filter. The clouds! Oh those sainted particles! The courage of my glass ashtray! All swapped for a slight-stained saucer a cup a cat-like crema. How long till they turn you against … Read more

the majority opinion that aims to thick coat my emulsified flavor. Froth my cup dunk its hue. 75 cents is my strong statement. I will tip you 75 cents if you’ll just leave me some bean slop me some foam and let me slide bitten into my bitter oasis.

How many times must I not watch you before you get the point? If I must not watch you a million times. If I must not watch you till the solar core inside my TV cools and its silver casing cracks until my many remotes retreat into open palms rush back toward some lost part … Read more

When I was small you could get a paper cut from just about everything. From a computer display. While petting a puppy. You could get several paper cuts pressing down hard on a pinkening snow ball. We wore gloves in the summer. Heavy mittens in the pool.

They date underground they do. And they skip by the mushrooms they dance with the dwarves They sleep under waterfalls lightless with dark sparkle and foam. They leave the sun and the wind and banana peels to the squirrels.

Were they birds or were they bats? Does it matter? When they drop down in darkness. When they brush up against the back of your head and nudge you along. When they flap in your hair. You want to know. Feathers or fur? Beaks or black noses. Were they bats?

Looking into your warehouse it’s clear that someone’s really good at stacking boxes. I know they use machines but it’s still a skill to form a lattice like that three stories high to hold against the pull top boxes feel their natural urge to tumble and tip to splay and splash to show the floor … Read more