Scribble scrabble goes the thought,
Sitting in a tumor of deleterious grief.
The trouble is money,
The trouble is power,
The trouble is punny, …[continue]

This is a journal of my journey to Mount Katahdin in Maine in July and August, 2009. My itinerary began with a road trip to Mount Desert Island, Maine, where I keep a house. The trip is about six hundred thirty miles in distance. I began… [continue]

You are only ever as absurd as you seem when you open the thoughts’ foil stained cherry pies.
Your lashes jut out like the rivers gone through, holding that which seemed awkward in jobs of lust.
That’s why up until now the fighting of the soul found copy-paper would do just fine.
Reaching into quietness, zooming into pale hacks of godless shame, keeping … [continue]

There’s a place that marshmallows smell.
That’s where I like.
Nobody ruins the stick fights,
And nobody jumps too high… [continue]

It seems like just yesterday that the future was a place you wanted to be. A marvelous tomorrow-land where all disease and inconvenience would be banished to museums and the third world. Yes, the tomorrow of our forefathers was a marvelous place, a perfect society were families would gather around the touch-screen and dig in to nutrient hampers laden with Pseudo-Turkey®, AlmostCorn©, and Valeriatatos™. Mother and Father would look on with pride as… [continue]

The past months have seen a string of financial calamities, the likes of which have not been seen since the S&L crises of the late 1980. By now most of us have some sense of what went wrong. Housing prices went up at a rate that was completely unconnected with the actual growth of the economy. Suddenly … [continue]

This morning I awoke to fluffy white clouds dotting an otherwise pristine blue sky. Thinking of all the day had to offer, I turned over and promptly fell back to sleep. An hour or so later I awoke and begrudgingly shed my cocoon.

My refrigerator, normally stocked to capacity with fresh fruits and veggies, was barren. I knew … [continue]

Sing freedom and shade the amounts of joy–
The smell sometimes makes wise.
My hands are mine and fill my wisdom’s railroads, I.

No, it devours hate, like it did behind that gate…
Humiliation just soothes wind, dry pain, and mind.
Or in life lies neither of that kind?

So nothingness, the one that fires ecstasy, the sweet, where leaves are anguish fanned,
Vast pleasure to destroy,
A craving prides … [continue]

I lose the words that should be expressed on saucers of joy,
And count the days until separation means necessities rule.
For a time you walked into the shade when light seemed opposable,
But toothaches create a certain wisdom in my solar plexus.
When returning to the ground I grant three wishes of my own,
Not forever, or temporarily used– time floats on dimension undisclosed.
The sound of … [continue]

In an attempt to move towards areas of literary usefulness, I offer the reader “love”. Yes, “love”, the very word that triggers a spectrum of reactions, both good and bad, we only wish we could control through sanity and beer. We cannot. Love is stronger than beer, more complex than beer, and knows not of sanity. Beer … [continue]