Category Archives

Poetry

Wasteland

The field seemed sick as a soul with sin,/ Or dead of an old despair…

Settling Accounts

I fell in love with a demon with a wood­wind name

Trying for It

The ghost I see walk­ing the rust-soft wreckage

Being Providence

You could never have slept/ in my ship­wrecked bed

Fresh Coat of Paint

Fresh coat of paint,/ need one for my walls/ “Will an off white do?”…

We Made Love on Mount Elgon

I tried to sit on him like Sharon Stone would,/ My thighs were too big./ I tried to lick him like ice cream…