Yes to Aesthetic, hour sixteen

Bent over my workbench at midnight, painting, drawing, patiently marking down small pieces of art, quietly cataloguing all the silly things I do for art, for love, for following money. The shop filled with niche likes, the cheap art and the many things I love…

Ars Poetica

A poem is a vessel, a vase, a place to store heartache and clarity. A poem simply is. Can it be free from judgment? A poem is a hot breeze in August. It’s the end of summer. It’s wanting to burn the Old World and…

Pain- Hr. 2

I see you so full of pain and despair The pain you’re feeling I seem to share That’s probably hard to understand But I’ve been there too I can hear your silent cries Because I’ve had the same pain I see in your eyes I…

what I did instead of writing

  anger-ghost pepper spicy left me gasping for words so instead I: -organized the board games in alphabetical order -stared into the sky -pounded nerds like a frat boy -created a new profile image -swam 1.5 laps -tried to clean pool deck -tore my thumbnail…

Truth and the Chinese Lantern, Hour Fifteen

Truth and the Chinese Lantern Come closer, grandson, and I’ll tell you a tale, the allegory of the Chinese Lantern. Once there was a plant, lovely and mysterious, her fruits enticingly veiled in lacy shadow. The Chinese Lantern thrived in nearly any climate, though given…

Joe’s Sports Bar

Might live in my brain forever, despite the building being demolished. As it should have been. The walks. The pool tables. The men that wanted to put my tips down my shirt, the sticky sticky dance floor. The one middle aged couple grinding it out…