Smear Jon Hillenbrand, July 1, 2012December 30, 2015 I wouldn’t change a thing about you. It would change the skipping of the record and labotomize us both…then we could share an IV bottle together, honey nectar for veinous rivers. Path forward, through the universes, chopping with my fingers through the literal weeds. You’re a sunlit green and black meteor in a plain beige grassy field. If you drip out, I hope you are absorbed by a rock and not a sponge, preserved for the ages not the moments you would be more than capable of irradiating. Poetry LifelosslovephilosophyphotographyPoetryrelationshipswomen
Poetry All You Need Is Love October 18, 2009December 30, 2015 The most important parts of the most important concepts can sometimes be distilled down to just a few or one element of those grander schemes. Read More
Poetry Crystallized Porcelain January 27, 2019January 27, 2019 Crystallized porcelain alights on the window of the poet, waiting for him to notice. He watches as the sun melts her just enough to fall away and glide on the wind like a smoke. She turns, rises and falls like a bedroom breath, glittering through his life, a chaos of… Read More
Poetry Ascendancy October 8, 2008December 30, 2015 The rain falls down the glass, time-worn cracks tracing the road map of my life. Practical considerations have no ascendancy in the pointed monologue of memory or the inner dialog of reason. I can see the light coming through my bathroom window and dancing like music alighting on glistening copper… Read More