Friday, April 30, 2021


when months end and seasons change,
when the frost turns to dew,
when the winds shift and spin about,
and the world turns page anew;

come the opportunity
to change the road I'm on,
but trapped in familiarity
and fear stills my song

from starting a new lyric,
from trying a new verse...
too easy to stay here,
even when it hurts.

pain of moving forward,
pain of holding back;
sing the same words again,
retrace the same tracks.

because the devil I know
is like an old friend
who's betrayed me before,
and we've seen how it ends;

but for the devil I don't
I can only prepare
for the might-happens...
it's no wonder I'm scared.

and perhaps you have faith
--a man or a god--
who keeps you level
and properly shod.

but what I worship
is indifferent to me:
I show respect, gratitude
to the world I see.

(not so blind, not on faith,
no hope for answered prayers.
merely thankful for the gifts--
this world, this ground, this here

that I can see clearly
with my own two eyes.
not mystical, not of
the blind leading the blind.)

so I lean on myself
to determine when to change:
when the pain is unbearable
and my demons satiate.

it happens now. right now.
tomorrow will be new;
I'm ready for something different,
and I hope you are too.

Thursday, April 29, 2021


another year here and gone,
and met with success at last.
29 so far and tomorrow come
and then the month will pass.

in that time I've done some things,
visited old and tried new,
gone sailing on discordant seas
and found home anew.

form and free and hither and yon,
safe and mature and secret,
hidden messages and wide open eyes,
promises made and kept.

and so today I make my mind
and change the future's road
surprise will come to my blog
when it does unfold.

but for tomorrow, I give you this:
a first chance for request;
what should I say on the morrow,
when I lay the month to rest?

Wednesday, April 28, 2021


Mature content warning
-- I have fun
I'm not tied up to anyone...

spend too long setting up,
drawing lines, scheduling time,
burn through the honeymoon
with logic and balance and grind.

but give me a play partner,
hash it out along the way,
spend a couple hours of fun,
and then go our own way.

feel the bliss/skip the heartache,
let everything just flow;
on and done and move along
don't worry what the future holds.

yes, I'd like something that lasts,
but I'm not going to sit and wait
burning through all my hours
while the chase gets away.

...but now I'm free,
there are no strings on me.

Italicized lines from "I've Got No Strings" by Dickie Jones

Tuesday, April 27, 2021


walking on eggshells
/the only people i c
to keep the cool
/an get to talk
lest I start to drown
/for any length of ti
in the pool
/me are in
in the demand
/it for ulter
for finding heart and home
/ior motives. they want so
i can't compete physically
/mething. money or power o
so I sell my soul alone
/r to trick someone or
and walk on eggshells
/to hurt someone. nob
lest i scare you
/ody wants me fo
/r me

Red text from
(NSFW) "Rain Check for a Brain Check"

Monday, April 26, 2021


trying to think
of what to write
when you are
too good at reading me
and I don't want
to infringe on your consciousness

but then I remember:

ea'hab'tu sip'ib min'ite
(I have a language)
ea'hab'mo mo'hab'tu'b
(that only I can translate)

Sunday, April 25, 2021


through the space
through the gun
through the hole
in space and...

though you broke
how physics
tears itself apart
I don't have the
math for the...

cuz you broke
not your legs
not your logic
but the world
and the spring
so you...

through your teeth
through the wall
through the air
and promise me

Saturday, April 24, 2021


the hug
and the hand
wrapped around
my torso
holding me close
holding me tight
holding me together...

Friday, April 23, 2021


in the silence and the solitude
of the drifting longing night
and the missing empty platitudes
that would clutter up my sight

in the moment, in the long open moment
when I have the canvas to myself,
build my dreams on the firmament
and need nobody else.

but then the worlds appear,
and their emptiness pains me so
that people are all but required
and I shouldn't be alone.

for whom do I build
if no-one's there to see...
though I build for myself,
alone doesn't mean free.

Thursday, April 22, 2021


a hammy and a tent went camping by the bay
where their only misfortune way the length of their stay:
three overlapping nights and two full days--
what overlaps of vacation time before parting ways

she watched curiously at the rigging as he strung up between the trees,
just a few small straps to keep him suspended in the breeze.
he watched patiently as she found a flattish spot,
pegged down her shelter, working rather hot.

they dragged seating close together as they made separate meals,
watched the stars rise yawning before turning on heel
and climbing in to their respective nests;
both having a high priority to get a solid rest.

they both dreamed brightly, but I know not of what things,
though I doubt they involved sealing wax, cabbages, or kings.
and upon the day they woke, he with the sun,
but what happened after is another tale begun.

Wednesday, April 21, 2021


some people work hard for twenty years
and never become a footnote to history,
some people set pen to page once
and every word everybody wants to read.

but I don't write to become great,
I write to empty out my head
because it hurts less when
I fill up a page instead.

and here I'm thinking of stopping
at ten-ish years of my blog,
and continuing with the daily poems
I've been writing all month long;

continue the streak, continue the collage,
continue showing the forest and the trees,
go not bigger, go as you will or go home...
maybe it's time for a new path for me.

Tuesday, April 20, 2021


Mature Content

piston shaking
pounding quaking
darting dodging
switching routing
changing directions at the whim of my heartbeat
because something's coming after me...

steadily coming
stalking hunting
not shying not hiding
drawing closer as a tide
I'm just inevitably forestalling
and every step earns me pride.

I could give in--
stand stronger and fight...
but I want to be caught,
be an exhausted prize.

Monday, April 19, 2021


Mature Content Warning

only one of us wants
to feel the hot breath on the back of our neck
only one of us wants
to be chased down shuddering sick
only one of us wants
because we feel less like a wreck
only one of us wants
when we're run down, exhausted, broken, and fixed...

and only one of us wants
to actually feel like prey,
because only us are human enough
to be fulfilled that way.

Sunday, April 18, 2021


why is it always the left eye?
and my right nostril bleeding.
sick of these allergies and
meds I grew up not needing.

Saturday, April 17, 2021


Someone stabbed him in the heart, just a little poke
But he keeled over ‘cause he went into battle wearing chain mail made of jokes

early to bed and early to rise
for the shortage of supplies
get my jab, get my poke,
give the antibodies a soak.

home county such a mess,
gone nearly golding-esk.
not a single slot to be had
so I came here instead.

why is pulling your head out of your ass
too much to ask?

Italics from "Tiny Glowing Screens Part 2" by Watsky

Friday, April 16, 2021


oh my god...
what could it be...
we're all doomed...
who's flying this thing?

I don't stand tall,
I don't hold tight,
I don't run fast,
I don't know right,
I don't kill demons,
I don't build things,
I just fall apart
when they get wings.

nobody knows my name,
nobody watches me climb,
nobody holds breaths,
nobody stands in line
for my attention,
for my handshake,
for my hancock,
for my art-make.

I'm not driving,
I'm not winning,
I'm not dancing,
not even spinning.
I'm just writing
but it ain't second best
I'm not renowned
or even followed yet.

I can't repair,
I just break down.
I can't grow up,
I'm just a-round.
I don't cause smiles,
I don't cause tears,
I just cause people
to not be here.

I'm not making
any difference,
I'm not even worth
any repents.
I'm just a piece of gravel
stuck in your shoe...
the best I can be
is annoying you.

oh, right.
that would be me.

Italics from "Bushwhacked" Firefly season 1, episode 3

Thursday, April 15, 2021


more than I could hope for
all started with just one.
one light at the end of the tunnel.
one friend with the same dream.
one dream.

we bought forty acres
when we only needed one.
one garden between us.
one simple agreement.
one handshake.

then we started looking
for other people to join us.
one at a time.
one by one.

it's the John Galt subdiv,
because we're not a co-op.
one rule for everyone.
one sun for everyone.
one light.

it's here when it's time to stand,
stand on your own
two feet.

Wednesday, April 14, 2021


feel like I'm over my head
trying to do things outside my reach,
trying to be different instead
of the boring easy mete.

buying a lot and building a home,
couldn't leave well enough alone,
mcmansion debt scares me away...
(don't need the space anyway).

feel like I'm over my head
trying to build my own equity,
tired of renting instead
of having my own place to be.

prefab and modular go for broke,
but minimalism's up in smoke;
more the a thou' is wasted on me
for all that I need it to be.

feel like I'm over my head
trying to puzzle the pieces,
not a cookie cutter homestead,
just want to have my peace.

Tuesday, April 13, 2021


waking to fire in my bones
pains of being alone
stretching tearing aching need...

searching for strength to be
what I want, what I seek,
moving jerking building touch...

working to find nothing much
a few small desired crush,
hoping wishing begging thrown...

Monday, April 12, 2021


tired of building equity for someone else
who had their cake and eat mine too,
I want my land and I want my house
and I want it economical too.

a thou and change is too much for me
(minimal, spouse- and child-free),
and neighborhoods full of rich and old
pushed my type out of the inventory.

ought-five or six ought to do,
if I can just find somewhere to be.
I'm not against your way of life,
I just want the same for me.

Sunday, April 11, 2021



a                 p

i        f        r

t        o        o

i        r        o

n                 f


still waiting
because  apparently
       i only exist
           for your
for mine

Saturday, April 10, 2021


that's-- no
what about-- not there either
oh here's-- not that one
it's actually-- that's not mine
but are you sure-- completely
that's impos-- completely
no, really it's impos-- fine, then you do it.
what! this can't be-- see
something is wrong-- oh, so now it's my fault.
I didn't mean-- yes you did.

Friday, April 9, 2021


regret is
forgetting to be polite
and picking up where we left off,
asking for a time and
feeling broken and lost.

regret is
feeling too much,
breaking and burning and drowning,
heavy weight in my stomach,
coming apart at the seams.

regret is
asking for help
but in the wrong place,
because nobody here cares
and I'm just losing face.

regret is
a bad horror story
because I mess everything up,
couldn't sell a tale to save my life,
but just keep churning it out.

regret is
in the wrong place,
because I'm nothing special here,
because I'm nothing special,
period, anywhere.

regret is
trying to be somebody
this world hates heroes,
loves attractive villians,
and nobody reads stories about nobodies.

regret is
nothing I can do about it,
always getting in the way,
better just be hands off
let someone else save the day.

regret is
having good ideas,
having good follow through,
but being too short in the crowd
taking credit for what I do.

regret is
to be

and failing.

Thursday, April 8, 2021


you like pushing me.
you like needling me.
you like trying to hurt me, get me to the edge.

one day, you're going to find out.

you tend to deride me.
you tend to dismiss me.
you tend to underestimate me, devalue me.

one day, you're going to the hospital.

you like pushing me.
you like needling me.
you like stoking my rage.

one day, i'm going to crack.

and then you'll be frightened.
and then you'll be hurt.
and then you'll regret every little thing you did to me.

and i'll regret letting you get away with abusing me for so long.

Wednesday, April 7, 2021


outside there's shit on the ground,
left stuff turned trash littered around,
pens, markers, papers, masks,
finished with their initial task,

but not useless, not worn through,
not beaten, bedraggled, broken into.
just... one and done and tossed away.
object impermanence here to stay.

fill my pockets with the same shit,
every day carry floats my ship.
same item, same pocket, same every day,
easier to keep when it's put away.

built to last, last a lifetime,
steel, aluminum, hard and fine.
keep it til it breaks apart:
object permanence holds my heart.

things get left and things get lost,
things get forgotten and I know the cost.
I'll pick it up and turn it in--
I hate when things go missing.

but alone I seem to be,
they find it, "it belongs to me,"
when it's shiny, when it's sly,
what they want but wouldn't buy.

never clean the planet without a change
to how you treat the shit you engage.
stop buying pens that last one day!
stop throwing every fucking thing away!

re-education won't do the trick,
"just don't care" won't make it stick.
fine them, bust them, recycle the key.
waste your time on other things.

sometimes things just disappear,
and I feel my heart tear.
tear the world in search of it--
usually found and breathe a bit.

but sometimes it's gone for good,
stolen lifetimes away from should
have had decades with me
because you had no sympathy.

Tuesday, April 6, 2021


your hell is nothing to fear
because I'm not destined for there,
I've my own place nestled in green
that holds my soul while I dream.

a chapel with my loves inside,
small and cozy and stone and quiet,
a tree engraved in the altar wall
unweathered through time and tell.

unassuming quiet stature,
undemeaning to its nature,
unrepentant in all beliefs,
undemanding what's underneath.

to be the best person I can be
is good enough for the holy tree,
no judgment that you call your chains
will stop it from calling my name.

Monday, April 5, 2021


my life squeezed into squares
everything tracked, nothing spared

building the grid for the 'ware
engineered and impaired
surveyed found and lost
pained and sorted and cost

anything you want to know
tallied from head to toe

small wonder I like labels
when my own life is relegated to tables

Sunday, April 4, 2021


my mother bought me
a new pizza cutter
because the old one was dull,
had a busted up handle
because it was second hand
and the previous owner
put it in the dishwasher.
(don't put wood tools in the dishwasher.)

the new one
with a plastic handle
is still dull.

Saturday, April 3, 2021


silence reigns when monarchs fall,
when the wind turns and evil calls,
when there's on fear held in hand,
and you feel small and bland.

when the Work comes to an end,
when the world stutters and rends,
when the darkness comes to call,
when you must flee or fall,
when you're nothing but a stone in a shoe...

be the best annoyance you can do.

Friday, April 2, 2021

From the Internal Narrative of Callidus Igni

Previous | Index

The camp was quiet.

Even in the off-season, there was some noise, some activity, some bustle about the place. But this morning, as the sun rose over the pitched tents, there was hardly a stir, until a shelter swayed and fell. It was hastily stuffed into the back of a car, a couple doors were slammed, followed by a light crunching of gravel as a single car rolled slowly away.

It was like the world let out a breath it didn't know it was holding. The breeze picked up again, spinning dust devils across the long and lonely driveway. The trees sighed and swayed, and the birds took up their songs once more.

One zipper, then two three and more, as people climbed out from their shelters, stumbled and stilted to the amphitheater, like they'd forgotten how to walk. There, along a table, waited the Council of Storytellers.

Primus stood. He didn't have to call for silence, for his audience was still, patient, humbled. They were scared

"It has come to my attention that our canon has some large workings in it, devastating spells that have dire consequences for all of us, not just those performing them. They are not to be used lightly, but they are accessible to anyone, regardless the breadth of their skill or the depth of their well.

"In light of recent events, we have decided not to remove them from the canon. However, there will be increased scrutiny of any who try to use them. On your souls be it."

Primus sat down, and Secondus stood up.

"There will be no retcon. As of four am this morning, you all woke as if from a dream. The prior twenty four hours were a shared nightmare, and you will slowly forget the terrible things that happened. They will fade, as all dreams do, once we wake.

"That is the canon."

Secondus sat down, and Tertius stood.

"It has come to my attention as the Master of Coin that some counterfeits have been floating about. I have begun an inquiry into this matter. I have posted a schedule of interviews to be conducted by party. Bring all your coin to be inspected. Counterfeits will be confiscated and replaced with a writ of funds owed. Any found to be collaborating with the counterfeiters will have their writs invalidated; all others will be paid back when the investigation is concluded.

"These writs will be character bound, you may not trade them as payment. If you are short on funds due to this investigation, bring it to your storyteller to be handled on a case-by-case basis."

Tertius slumped back into his chair. Primus glanced down the line, and Quartus shook her head. Then Primus stood once more.

"Check the schedule for your interviews, we have carefully arranged them to minimize the interruption to your stories, but the investigation is a higher priority. That is all."

People stood as if set free from shackles that weighed them to the earth. There was a sudden outburst of chatter, and then suddenly everyone was talking, the spell broken at long last. 

Only I didn't stand, sitting behind the table and the stage, silent, all but blindfolded in the morning sun, listening and waiting. My heart felt heavy, and that meditative retreat suddenly seemed like a very good idea.

Index | Next


when I wake, the tree still stands,
the blood still drips, and open hands
catch like fallen rain and thirsty lips.

the chapel still waits for my time,
promises made, promises mine;
doors watch for death to come.

see the forest and the trees,
see my past overtake me,
sit on the frosty cold steps.

someday, I'll go inside.
see all who I've left behind,
loved, lost, and abandoned.

Thursday, April 1, 2021


for all we speak of
of the permanence of the internet,
how nothing gets deleted,
how nothing gets removed;
for all the cloud storage,
for all the servers,
for all the computers,
for all the memory,
for all the history...

for all we speak of permanence,
the one thing you can count on
is that things are always changing.

the only permanence
is found in the spaces we create for ourselves.