Thursday, December 7, 2017

keeping saint monday

you can always hide in the idea
that no one cares
kick around the desert
waiting for some chin music
to come make it new again
when i think of the years
i think of a line across a page
to erase history & any love
that could gut a house
for good reason
my cold mouth in the wind
like a kite
as i return to work, park
under same hard shadow
where the ear of an organizer
got sliced by ambition
or the police, hard to say
though it’s understood we should
just accept reality, ronald reagan
& mickey mouse are the same
after all, your kids will turn out
fine, unraped & voting
for the rich in the dark
the good life won’t stop
for anyone
there are the tracks
& here is some rope
a rumor of piano
w/ keys of brick
in a cellar
to play for funerals
where we'll finally catch up
& pretend our labor
was our own
so that words are corpses too
& the sermon drones on
canning someone's struggle
like a democrat who won't win
we can play family
until it disappears again
or we can exit the grave
& become something else
just like that, a line across
a page to step over
& a stranger on the other side
to take us in
here, sit down
let me tear this fog
out of your chest

Sunday, November 26, 2017

chase scene

Here's a chase scene published recently in Dusie's Tuesday poem series, edited by rob mclennan.

Sunday, November 12, 2017


because i carry no hope
the moon smears itself
on the trees
like a dirty soda can
from another notebook

on the tip of my tongue
an old feeling’s dream
i hate that word, “dream”
its glassiness of water
in pictures and nothing
under but tomorrow

what a rip, knot in my back
snowballing again
to replace my heart
w/ an amazon headquarters
and more yuppies begging
the super-rich w/ hashtag

please come ruin our city
we promise to help you
tighten the cement
one isolated incident
after another

year one has begun
it is luxurious beyond luxurious
it fits in the overhead bin
it bites my arm off
and pulls me into the sewer
home of the employee-employer
i keep waking up here

i unroll my tongue
like a red carpet
for socialism
we discuss thirst
we discuss the pesticide
in the wheat
we discuss our service
to a revolving door

a movement of people
in the rust of waiting
walk out, mouths opening
like the hands of a clock
running away from each other

Saturday, October 21, 2017

Tripwire 13: Dialogues

The new issue of Tripwire, one of my favorite magazines, is online--"Dialogues"--which includes a chase scene and an email exchange with an anti-union employer--and a whole lot more. You can download a free pdf or buy a print copy. Thanks to David Buuck, the editor.

Friday, September 22, 2017

3 new poems

3 new poems are online in the tiny, a fantastic magazine edited by Gina Myers and Gabriella Torres. The new issue includes poetry by Maged Zaher, Carlos Soto-Román, Cynthia Arrieu-King, Colette Arrand, erica lewis and more.

Saturday, September 9, 2017

Two Spurs: Germantown and Northeast

Two short essays from General Motors are now online at Entropy Magazine.

Sunday, July 30, 2017


if you wanna wallow in the pig trough, you can light sparklers
in the street w/ the dudebros


i was a dumb kid when you arrived
and now i’m not


now i can get off the internet
and just be a person


my grandmother outlived her ability to speak
her first language, she was 97


your dropbox is full and is no longer syncing files


in the time of convenience stores, i got treated
like a convenience store


what doesn’t the revolving door


how do you give yourself to yourself
if there’s no such thing


keep peeling the potatoes, will you, and
we’ll let you know when it’s ready


you ride someone’s tail, i step on the fake brake
and nothing happens, we’re safe


i mean if you’re gonna be a nobody
have some class about it


shake up the pepsi before you hand it
to the scab


there’s no such thing as a good millionaire
everybody knows


tuck the corpse into your billfold
like there’s furniture in the mountains


for just a minute, maybe longer, stop being
everything you’ve made

Thursday, June 1, 2017


The new issue of Sundog Lit includes my essay-poem "Passyunk spur", one of four spurs from my recent manuscript General Motors. Thanks to Berry Grass & the editors.

Sunday, May 14, 2017

for what we will

you can stick a 7-11
right there
like nothing happened
the city flushes itself
all day
people couple off
like the poem’s over
i got divorce flowers
for everyone
i got water
for the vase
you can tax the sun
you can mow the lawn
of little ears
peddled by squirrels
made of thanks
to hollowed earth
what “let” means
is the squirrel’s anybody, all
squirrely, night splashing
onto stairs, keys
to love the bar’s
a subway entrance
in my bedroom
like a pillow
your scent barked home
in a shirt
a string whistled thru
utility’s erotic
in defiance of
you can take off
what you need
you can lick your bowl
for no credit
you can pledge allegiance
to the floor

Monday, May 1, 2017

injury music

april is not a thing
i’ll be there in 20 minutes
just shy of dust
w/ dry red wine
national safe digging month
is almost over
thank god
we can dig once again
w/ abandon

Monday, March 27, 2017

SPiA #6

The new Slow Poetry in America newsletter is five poems from a manuscript I recently finished writing called General Motors. You can order it or subscribe to SPiA right here and get poetry in your mailbox every season. Thanks to Mike Cavuto, Hoa Nguyen & Dale Smith.

Boneless Skinless

Boneless Skinless is in the world, featuring work by poets who've read at Housework at Chapterhouse, the great poetry reading series run by Mel Bentley, who also edits the magazine with Jonathan Hamilton. Two of my chase scenes are in volume 1, which you can get here.

Whirlwind #10

Check out Whirlwind #10, published out of Philly by Sean Lynch and Lamont Steptoe. The new issue focuses on the meaning of "empire" in the 21st century. Happy to have two poems as part of it. You can read the magazine online here or get it in print.

Sunday, February 19, 2017

injury music

when they say “nothing is free”
they mean “you work for me”

when they say “we don’t condone violence”
they mean “you work for me”

when they cart you off the field on a stretcher
thousands of little boss-slaves cheering on
your pain

the super bowl of cheerios
in a sink

this complete breakfast
of losers

i wipe my mouth
w/ a napkin

everything is free

the anthem is a dead white prayer

silly string in the street
the day after

waterfalls are not

states are not

what flag are you
talking about

what do you mean by

do you mean the bruises
all over your body

do you mean the people
who nursed you back up

who are you now
all washed up

Saturday, February 11, 2017


The Pew Center for Arts & Heritage interviewed me recently about writing, how I came to it, what makes it happen. You can read it here.

Sunday, January 22, 2017

Real News

Medics Remove Gold Toilet from Officer’s Head

“Is CNN People?” People Ask

Roots of Starved Trees Found Gripping Skulls from Heaven

Cops Offer Free Hugs to Corpses

Saint Go Pinged from Winged Bike

Love Fails to Trumka Hate in Capitalist State

Hiccups in Paradise Reported by Garbage Police

Water Protectors Attacked by Government
as Middle Class Shakes Fist at Socialist

Electronic Credential Mill Fires its own Mother—Your Mother

Enrollment Plummets at Good Worker University

White God Misses Bus in White Imagination

The KKK Took Our Healthcare Away

Old Mortgage Tongue Calls it a Day

Fascists Plead for Peace & Quiet

There is no outside, says Frog