there is an ocean
within you.
dark waters,
dark eyes,

they left me,
and wanted,
a bottle tossed to sea…
a message writ in spit, in sweat,
of groans and exultations.

now tossed like flotsam,
seeking eddies and way back
to your dark waters,
a salty kiss.

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a mind, bound


did not kiss her
when you touched her

the last time,
your entry
lacked finesse –
was more like your marriage,
cold, hard, familiar

inevitable, regrettable


you held her,
wrists above her head,
hips cracking




and again,
and again,
and again

you touched her,
that stranger,
walking by you,
you held her,
your eyes on her skirt,
her strong legs

your mind… and her
in a vice
as you
kissed her

Posted in Longing, Poem, poetry, ust | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Eye Gaze Cannot Ignore (Arrows)

                                                  beach i am going
                                                  I am going beach
                                to (you without)gathering seashells 'n (wind
                                                      sea chuckles)

>>>this is where you are looking, not right, up
                              to where i
right spot
                                                         for your eyeballs
                       [icon insert here(?) :]
                                 25cd956b1dd082185977764777a6e951                               "blam"
when designing/

smashing shells

arrows draw

                               (scroll down, now)

                               i am going to (beach, shells, hell)

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Just Some Time: Audio

A writer I like has done some spoken word, and it reminded me how interesting/ different read vs heard can be. Changes the impact. So, I’m going to record a few of my pieces, for fun (and, because I’m feeling a bit… stuck, at the moment, in terms of writing). My lunchtime today consisted of me at a mic, doing some of this. Hope you like the effort. (Not sure I do…)

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In the Sea

This…. world.
These monkeys,
draped in cotton, fur,
minerals and animal skin.

This… sea of air.
These swimmers,
legs arching,
clutching pouches,
woven worm spit
around their necks.

And I am aching
to drown
within them.

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Some Worship

Cheers to lost fathers.
And however the angels say cheers in their heavens,
in their cups,
within the company of
the lost gods of childhood.

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Just Some Time

Just some dumb counter encounter,
me and my old doppelganger,
dusty old man, wry eyed in the mirror,
wishing the kale juice was something higher test.

Gotta flush those toxins, baby,
gotta pretend the last decade didn’t happen.

There’s that kid, sliding up next to me again,
flat noted whistle, sly look,
elbow in my side:
“Hey mister –
it’s just some shit.
Just the same old shit.
Even the view out the plane window’s
kinda dull nowadays.”

All I know is,
gonna see me,
in time.

Gonna see all of us.

Posted in Age, Aging, Creative Writing, Poem, poetry | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments