Based in the bayou. Launched from the levee. Leftovers are we. 


Look Here

Look Here

Look here

Because I’ve done it again this time

The measured silence, scattered rhyme

A different space, dull and fresh

Another arson of the flesh

In a snow-lipped crevice, a sunken flame whistles dry.

Because my envy for his finger

The coils of steam that lisp and linger

Around his mouth that reeks wry smile

I’d ring a rose a short half while

And have him beg for unsought shelter from the open sky.

Because the heather meadow of his hair

His crumbling gaze, cerulean stare

Echoes sharply against the oak

That tapped its talons when he spoke

He is a forager of words and splintered letters into dust.

Because his name paints cityscapes

His paper trails leave ring-worm shapes

He is part and parcel of this place

Of broken china, victorian grace

But i shall find him soon in a verse reflected room.  

Does he know first that I am after,

A slow bruise, a soft disaster.

Here this time and gone thereafter

Hanging limply from the rafters.

Ask me once and I will run, and leave you with a smoking gun.

Eat the Core

Eat the Core