Updated WVP Book Release Schedule

Check out the release dates from West Vine Press which also include my upcoming book – Slow Living.


West Vine Press Moves Words Around To Make Real Books For Real Human Beings.

Source: Updated WVP Book Release Schedule


Tongues for Days

purling this timidity into

cities translated by clouds

as forever rests

on gossipers’ tongues.


gulls been fending for

and fending off

longer than this shyness

ever existed.


electricity’s been static


discovered nothing

but an experience.


didn’t go / didn’t get


but took in a tear

on receiving news.


sheltered sadness

fostered it

for sake of something.


parrots had nothing to repeat.

mockingbirds eased of mimicry.


quieted, calmed –

reflecting on the essentiality

of being

another animal.



descent comes closer to home

to find the core –

bypass wounds, scars, sore spots

to dismay of symptoms

distracting the cure


in fear, death rises again



breaking out

heaven from hell

fury from fate

injustice amused


with a distaste being mutual between

needle and cloth

thread – the only common friend –

binds both until

the job is through.



crammed into the corners of the mind –

holding up the walls of theories never to be

a fly holding back the boulder

telling Sisyphus

give up the task


what worse could possibly come?


rain hungers for a face

tongues for a drop


New Work at Anti-Heroin Chic

New Work in Anti-Heroin Chic

“heaven’s gate whines out opening up for all the tears of boys who were told not to cry. for all the girls abducted from their potential. for all the others forever denied. for zombies whiter than snow. for ghosts much the same. for corpses blackening in decay. for limbs much the same as gangrene sets in. for sun unable to melt the cities back to the bone of streets. for long winds sweeping out the corners of the neighborhoods. for the hillsides with a view of the comings and goings of paradise.”

Read the whole piece at: Anti-Heroin Chic

Now Available: Playing Dead

Now Available for Kindle

Playing Dead

an epic poem

When Truth

when truth does not lie enough to feel safe, then there’s always faith

to fall back on,

bestselling belief

something to fill up on

as all else burns away.

desire exchanged its wings for lead feet

one last kiss was just another undefended explanation.

tender affections cried out for shoulders to rely on

to lift up from where illusions begin

uneasiness travels

even as it is

held back

struggles escape

give themselves away


what charm hides

is severity = sincerity

of situations

slight, slimmest hints

(c)overt flirts

something to imply

before honesty finally comes through.            Ends it all.




“ . . . irony cannot break the wall

. . . building around . . . poem . . . ”                                                                                                           (Harold Norse)


Fermented phemes have grown culture

through aging

fragrance stronger still and stronger to come

but hasn’t yet.


Treasures of the night

have never been found

on ice.

* * *

To the streets filled up on sour

and acidic

quelled on probiotics


Bacteria grown against

God the virus.

* * *

Sewer grates leave menthol and regular packs

green and red

at the curve

of the corner


Back up Coke and Pepsi cans,

and the logos

all the sigils stamped

in coffee cup,

burger wrappers, empty chips, sweet still sleeping

in candy’s former sleeve.


But water

and what passes for water

where concrete, brick

and asphalt meet

slips through

with even

the most fickle poem.

* * *

“ . . . Does

Maybe not matter when maybe’s a landscape of untethered

starlight?”                                                                                                                           (Rowan Ricardo Phillips)

* * *

It’s all enjambment


All disjoint up up above

as together unbounded


and point




spray paint that won’t come loose

from walls

and monuments


where                   upturns

is a route

able to navigate

for food.

* * *

Words are black

and have running

in their blood

Drapetomania is the suffering

of text enslaved

to the page.

* * *

Captivity lets faith, hope

and charity


with visions of Zion

and all lands promised

to the passed over.

* * *

This world cannot be taken personally

* * *


does not make

digesting come

does not confirm

nutrients extracted

to destinations



Swallowed in sips

language has no

bottom of cup


So bloats

So bursts


So hyponatremia

of thoughts

first attacked, assaulted

then accepted.

* * *

Where can’t walls be built?

Gates, fences,

neighbors cutting off stanza from stanza


lose sight

of one                                   another


Disjoint occurs

nonsense teems

begins plans

against 5 or perhaps 6

senses –

sentimental, sensual,

sensible (?).


Springtime further blossoms

nature’s lines of defense,




Winter drops guard

lets jokes

slip through –

pushes them on blizzard



to bury

and give cabin fever

to homesick

broken lines


* * *

Just and just


not too much

* * *

Having lost vowels

over centuries


in clay and sand


Consciousness lost name

and rose as ash –

ashen rose

burnt out


spoken through brush

and to Jeanne D’Arc


and in caves


In places beyond and between opposite openings

side 1

side 2

left channel right channel


in need of visitors’

whispers / speaks / tolds / talks / yells /screams



How the machina comes

is on ears first

– save for Saul.

* * *

Life was begun by forgetting

this entrance.


Since then,

gifts  -if received-

are misconstrued


And grow into curses


* * *


1) to be easily crestfallen by outside forces upon the ego.



2) to be empathetic to the crestfallen outside of the ego.

* * *

“. . . silence crowns the song.”                                                                                                   (Ursula K. LeGuin)


But Guess Again

What sentiment is so equally shared





Absolute has no relation to


tether’s hold is not another

way of saying

relation- empathy returned

the book of resemblances

was not written in sympathetic



vowels harmonize given the opportunity


clusters also

are broken

when chance is had


but guess again for stars draw            long and short

of clouds in distances varied from

cones and needles