Monthly Archives: January 2025

deus ex duo i. deus ex machina the deus ex machina falls through the trapdoor into the charnel house the deus dramatic effect lost and centrifugal with a caravaggio thud see deus roll among the sweet vinegar panhandlers watch deus … Continue reading →

This Delusion I broke as I wrote—As I was broken I had to writeDid I write ‘cause I was broken?Or did I break ‘cause I wrote?The cause of the writingOr the cause of the breakingAlways eludes me—including the writingIncluding the … Continue reading →

will you be my very short alternator? . . . a woodshed mottling in the equatorial heatundergoes a belittling imprecationfrom a oilman stuck on dykes and derrickshe tries connecting bisecting lines at odd angleswhat laughs—pratfalls aplenty—& amazing, drooling, grazing audiences … Continue reading →

What I’m Reading: People talk like the things they see. After a certain age nothing is new besides death. — Sam Tallent / Running the Light

Blurry Bluster Blurry bluster buster bembe shoot… Anachronism filets are plentiful this season. Whose intrigue will take the top spot? Stop. Stop. Stop thinking those thoughts or you’ll end up in a vise or a straightjacket. When did things go … Continue reading →

Memorable Stuff I Read This Week . . . The world is at leastfifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservativeestimate, though I keep this from my children.For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.For every loved child, … Continue reading →

A Slap Not / A Slip Knot Panic and go to the mountainClimb the mic and a stick in RussiaThe shove was itTo my mind C was on loanAn amusement park loon on loanI’m stuck counting starsThen I’m onto counting … Continue reading →

Writing Us into Existence (redux) I. He took off his shoes and the right pinkie was exposed — nude, malformed, and smelling like Limburger from six feet away. A couple of wiry hairs arcing over the sock. She, on the … Continue reading →

(Flatulence) Contumely & Bloat After a bedbug bedpan tryst he is a pulsating washbasin engineer of electrified stinging…  The fairground that you long for—a sequence of belonging—you can’t feel. And according to the burble it stilts you. You ain’t the last … Continue reading →