It’s the sun, I told myself again. Too much sun makes people too hyper, too happy, too sure of themselves. What we need is a little rain, some dark clouds, a berating storm. 

Rain drags its cage / through the neighborhood. You / see nothing but // trenches. Rusty shovels, / the alien rocks sprayed / like genitals. 

I came home from work the other day and my next-door neighbor, Charlie, was sitting on a lawn-chair under an oak tree in his front lawn, drinking a beer, smoking a cigarette. 

Charlie said, “Hey

Ironically, hours before we went to see Whoopi, I texted two friends from my bathtub that I didn’t think I would ever write another essay. It was “too hard.” “People only want to vilify you, so they look for words to use to that end, and ignore the rest of what you’ve said.”

For weeks after, I watched California burn / out my window & on the evening news & the ash // in my cheeks became the only way/ to pronounce home.

Jack Daniel screams his way down my throat & it’s a dry thrust.

My dog keeps biting me when he’s scared / and, like anyone, is always scared.

McGuiness in bed with chow mien. Eyeballs floating in melatonin.

“Watch your back,” moans ceiling fan. TV glow damaging optic nerves, retina, etc.

Trapdoor in Benzedrine bottle on floor. Deep in

Now I’m not dating anymore and I use the gold duffel bag to haul my belongings from one house-sitting gig to the next.

When, on August 18, 2015, the dog the internet called “The Devil” was finally cornered by the Salt Springs police department several of its victims, those sufficiently recovered from their wounds,

Every writer knows the rule of ‘write what you know,’ but the interesting thing is that you don’t really know what you know until you write it.

When I was little, my best friend Tamara and I stole. She was a year older than I was, treated me like a little sister, and taught me all the ropes. We wore sweaters on hot summer days, dresses too big for us, huge pants with pockets. 

With the bobby pin I’ve kept beneath my tongue all morning, / my fingers spring the lock to my parent’s bedroom // where mom’s cherry lipstick glows beneath a seashell lamp. 

You joined in, and told Danielle that she should only serve us drinks in diamond pimp glasses.

I based the Australian on a man I met in a coffee shop when I was 19. We went back to his place and did coke together, and he told me all about himself...

WEED MILEY. Come back to us Weed Miley. I plonk down on the water sofa. Weed Miley screams into the mirror. She had invited me to join them. Weed Miley talks here, I then talk. Weed Miley enters wearing a cloth nightgown.

New Jersey as land of claws & fangs & deep fields of grass that stumble onto the side of the highway // New Jersey as fields of soft dirty ice // New Jersey as blondhairblueeyes slapping you in the face at lunch in the cafeteria in front of all your friends

At first, it seemed like a poet’s dream day job. A job of watching, then describing.

The cartels were losing the battle. Everywhere they dug they met a new obstacle. There was freshly poured concrete down their northwest tunnel. They discovered recently installed top of the line micro security cameras. They came face to face with growling German shepherds. 

I’ve mooned away my marriage, / grounded it, ripped the fuselage / in two, or is the better metaphor
to say I heard the countdown go / from ten to zero and didn’t even / try to stop my wife from breaking / the gravity of disaster planet me?

On that rainy morning of that last day, I delivered some homemade ajiaco, Colombian chicken soup, to my mother, and my ex-girlfriend who was expecting a child that might be her husband’s or mine.

The Club pursues a shaky business proposition, and Jax must decide where his allegiances lie.

Allegiances are tested as a business deal heads south, and Jax must choose between the Club

The night I saw you on TV, I thought of the toads.

The ones we carried onto the roof of your house with a slingshot that afternoon when no one was home.

Some songs sound best under the sun. Some are night-blooming. These you hear clear in dark-dark; maybe there are stars.

“I Go To Sleep (demo),” The Kinks

Play this first, especially if