Posts for June 27, 2025

For the third time tonight
on my drive home through hushed countryside
I thought I saw a UFO…
only to be disappointed yet again 
by an increasingly saddening reality.
The first hulking glowworm 
crawling over the steaming hills
revealed itself to be
a delicate and lovely crescent moon
who helped keep watch for anything out-of-place.
And she found it when some unreasonable adolescent
launched just enough fireworks
to wake both the dead and dead-asleep,
though the disturbances in the sky
caught my eye much more readily
than the phosphorescent belches
of adventurous young spirits.
The last display of awful might
lasted the longest and proved to be
the most magical of them all;
crowns of far-off lightning
lit bushels of nectarines among the clouds,
tracing the outer ears of hiding gods,
and reminding me of all the things that might not belong
I might be the Unidentified Fearful Object 
roaming the countryside next.

if you don’t talk enough your thoughts

turn to grey matter rat kings

if you don’t care enough agony and worry comb

your hair for you

if your iron isn’t high enough it’s not because your

organs always turn to steel knives

God, I hope (I don’t pray) that if I have a wounded wing, and you couldn’t get to me, some bisexuals on a hot girl walk would stop traffic for me. I would hope that I could trust enough to take the step off the curb and waddle my way to you. If it was you, stuck on the island flightless, I wouldn’t take off. I can wait.

The horned moon rises
A Golden Bull
Draped in black lace
The color of candlelight

That’s why knives draw me
I like to be scared
Or I enjoy respect

Something is shreaking
like an old oven pushed across the floor
The metal rubbing it’s self musically
like crickets legs
A violin or accordian

“B.B’s” latched on to calling me “Feral
but its too close to Geraldine Jerryl
Some of the many ways my name has been pronounced

They tell me that water from the center of the earth has been discovered, some plasma that’s also water, and that there’s three times more of it than what we thought there was

What has she killed again
that is making that noise?
It sounds like an illusion
Like the cool air washing over us this evening
The heat has been braining us

And even passing meteors
are lobbing great daytime fireballs
At us.

What information we once held private was
bought and sold

But leaving your phone in your bag at a party
is hippy level rebellion.

Occasionally, a blast of music from The Green Lantern, a corner block perpendicular.

The dead worms have all formed letters and I just keep seeing esses. I earlier mused, that I ought to change my name to Liv Feral. These special letters could be l and f.

It sounds 90s AF
Like two different Googoo Dolls songs

The radios of passing traffic
fold into it like
an alterpiece

your hip 
is that last curve home 
with an Armageddon
crimson sunset full blast 
gold dripping
across the leaves

just like 
the magnetic forces of the earth
that guide birds
on the way home 
my fingers follow
the traces of heat 
to  your
horizon of palms in the blazing
sun with salted lips 
rimmed with my name 
drink in your gaze 
and bathe in the tension
the being next to you 
pretending to be calm and collected 
knowing what we really are 

entangled vibrations 
a chorus now now now 
and a single fevered drive 
right on the edge 
because 
baby 
we’re 
80’s
forever 

An empty, blue vase stares at the world from
behind the glass. The owner of the vessel
cares not about filling it, so it sits
on the windowsill full of
nothingness. The realm 
of possibility dead
before a first bud.
I weep because I 
care so much.

hand to hand
eye for an eye

damn for a damn
lie for a lie

man to man
unkind for a kind

hand to hand
eye for an eye

gram for a gram
lie for a lie

woman to man
are we just alive

to die?

Sounds like a monologue;
voice, cut, frame
into the picture
that you painted
talking to yourself
waiting for nobody at all.

This week,
has been nothing short of a successful disaster. 

I’m beyond grateful, 
but oh so exhausted and worn to a new frazzle. 

So many good things happening all at once, 
but there’s never enough time to enjoy them. 

I’m ready for a breakthrough and 
a long overdue drive into the sunset. 

When? 

I’ll have to find time on the calendar. 
Soon…but sadly, it won’t be today. 

There once was a nut from Lexington
who kept confusing haiku
with a limerick. 

There once was a nut from Lexington
who kept doing the same thing–
wanting new results. 

There once was a nut from…
you know the rest of their story 
really.

There once was a poem
and it shook the poet some. 
Call it Vexington.