From the day I started kindergarten, the whole idea of school disturbed me. I hated the rules. The structured system of mediocrity was pure torture. Also, I… Read more “Is a college education really worth it?”
Sunday morning we walked under a placid-grey sky, talking of demons that dance until you rot. We ambled toward the green hills with tall pallid statues scattered… Read more “A Walk with 1,000 Corpses”
They pass our apartment on a Saturday afternoon—
two lovers quarrel like a couple of Indy cars running out
of fuel, his left foot bare, she’s wrapped herself in a
Pendleton Blanket, a real Navajo gemstone,
and the man wears one shoe and smokes an unlit cigarette
and cries and cries as she repeats his sentence of death.
“I don’t want to be with you anymore,” she tells him through
his torrent of tears as he demands to use her phone;
(the man with one shoe).
“leave me ALONE!!”
“where’re you going? please, PLEASE!”
“LEAVE ME ALONE!!”
I watch from the porch. I feel bad for the man with one shoe,
the girl wrapped in the Natives’ soul, the two young lovers
with no idea how many times their hearts will break,
no idea how many fish swim blindly out at sea
where the ocean filled with rusty hooks that poke your skin and
leave horrible scars on the unshaven face and legs.
when the moon comes out, the crying man with one shoe
and his barefoot lover crawl into the sobbing night.
the sobbing man with no shoes and his lover wrapped tightly
in the solace of her Pendleton Blanket.
…sits at his desk at the Hour of the Witch, ignoring the two-inch ash on their forgotten cigarette. The grey toxic smoke spirals to the popcorn covered… Read more “The Author”
“We walk to the back of the fairgrounds and look for a spot in the fence to squeeze through — a classy date I am.” The link… Read more “The Unlit World of the Heroin Junkie”
A page from my memoir The Taste of Cigarettes: a memoir of a Heroin addict via Books
when the books dive from the yellow walls, and burn in gusts of black and white fire, my world becomes an ugly dream; and if the art… Read more “Kiss”
Santa Barbara and the entire California Coast feels like hell is oozing through the soil and into our lives, but I still go on assignments, talk with… Read more “Song of the Boiling Sun”
I once lived in a two-story palace in Gospel Swamp with Her and our two little girls; it had two stories and two small bedrooms, with a… Read more “311 California Street”