you know, this dance is
just more lurching in the dark
let’s talk in the light
Radix Hex
lost: boyhood élan.
no reward possible.
broken university
a resolution:
just be – abide in the dirt
bloom only for you
Writer Highlight Featuring: H Paul Goodwin
I Don’t Even Get To Say
That I swing both ways.
Because she won’t even look at me.
But this is par for the course,
Head off at ninety,
Peeling labels off sauce,
Amassing salt,
I’ve seen it all before.
What was it she said?
Transparent? One-sided?
A pushover? Unhinged?
As critique, it’s technically weak,
As I have two sides, at least
And four hinges, at the time of press,
And some kinder souls might allow that,
A glass heart ne’er did harm
To fair wench, lest a gentleman hold me ajar,
With his limbs outstretched
And wait and wait but remain unchecked.
And also, i might add, if I may,
This purple coat’s fresh on today.
No exit, no fires, no names in lights,
Royal timber, hewn from evergreen block,
From chainsaw blade and sopping twine,
To brassy push plates and a fat waiter’s behind
That is my jamb…
View original post 51 more words
date night: fat lip
temple to temple
sex marks the spot
it’s just four small letters,
a microwave and a dog basket
shy from (real) love
there’s a mile-wide, shrill divide
the snag to post-marital bliss
in pretending we’re here (sometimes) and
pretending we don’t exist
so let’s bitch and eat crisps
and nourish this flaccid guilt
together, for the kids
LTL:FTC
date night: door
I don’t even get to say
That I swing both ways,
Because she won’t even look at me.
But this is par for the course,
Head off at ninety,
Peeling labels off sauce,
Amassing salt,
I’ve seen it all before.
What was it she said?
Transparent? One-sided?
A pushover? Unhinged?
As critique, it’s technically weak,
As I have two sides, at least
And four hinges, at the time of press,
And some kinder souls might allow that,
A glass heart ne’er did harm
To fair wench, lest a gentleman hold me ajar,
With his limbs outstretched
And wait and wait but remain unchecked.
And also, i might add, if I may,
This coat’s fresh on today.
No exit, no fires, no names in lights,
Royal timber, hewn from evergreen block,
From chainsaw blade and sopping twine,
To brassy pushplates and a fat waiter’s behind
That is my jamb, my friends, that is my jamb.
And who goes on a date with a door?
Maybe this isn’t a date, more a fixture.
No, wait, this is a date.
I’m a fixture.
Untitled: Still Warm
this eagle is dead
guts up on the savannah
daylight tends the grave
remote work
copywriter required
six cents a word
proven track record
personal best
for hot-eye clickable content
for fresh young online pub
kicking out jams on
pool halls and tar pits
lyme disease and squash
penny whistles and two-bed lofts
caramel phagocytes and silkworm thought
turmeric-colored sweater vests and ambient chalk
the magnetic hills and first-look tomtom pranks
old-school broken necks and winter’s breathy chuckle
the fifteen percent of people who think in french
when they make fuck with their partners
in south-southeastern ontario
six cents a word
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GTX
a curt delinquent glide
eyelids slide from side to side
hang; over builder’s yards
suburban sprawl, no sound
for a mouse is a mouse, after all
blackfacegeneral 