selected past writing at 42opus
the windmill yawns and turns over. the brass chimes
grunt, half in sleep. from the house, someone sings
and i will never forget this sound, the openness of that voice:
the only song—
there is only here and there and gone.
5 May 2010 | poetry
like a super
like the last
in the train…
15 July 2010 | poetry
My nickname at school is Tony the All-Night Pony. When I read a poem that I like I will write it down in one of my black leather journals.
So you get fired for making another offensive comment to a coworker who actually is a fat slob with a bad attitude and fuck that eating disorder and clinical depression bullshit, and fuck your boss, too…