From the 2018 Collection "The Dead Dog Parish"
Torus, it’s shaped like, hang on, the number is as large as the planet.
That one more, chasing the dragon, carrot dangling,
Nine times out of ten, it’s a demon you’re seeing, not an angel. They have all kinds of disguises, I know-I know,
The bar room is a bed of embers fanning themselves expediently, huddling to outlast the dark. A whoosh of autumn air ruffling their complexion each time
Want nothing from people and receive their myriad blessings… Expect from them and find an empty well. Eat less than a ghost
To be a ghost is to always be aghast— To not know which direction is the future or the past.
Formulate an agenda Make friends. Label enemies. Identify beliefs. Re-examine.
Needless of a judge, a contrite heart is a bird suspended on a current, shifting myriad planes without asking or telling.
A Sacred Site, to my mind, is the last place you’ll ever stan… Such a place reveals hypocrisy without shaming,
When the world wasn’t burning I felt optimistic that one day I could come home
Walking lakeside, I try to discern what the frogs a… but their drone is one collective… Diving again and again after the secret,
So many things I don’t really care about the mail comes you know it isn’t easy to show that I care
I still know what it is to dance, I won’t discount romance, and if I like how it looks, I’ll eat it or wear it
One of God’s tricks is, similar to Michael Jordan, It sinks a three-pointer with 1.2 seconds left on the clock,
What is your idea of placid? How about a mountain campground? Yes, but here in the midst is a querulous brain a competitive heart
