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

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

independence day

who made you einstein, monday-face

american standard is a brand of toilet

so i just start walking on water

out of respect for pangea

trash gets picked up

i mean if you’re gonna be a nobody

have some class about it

shake up the pepsi

like a dead cat in heat

the butcher kills the air

when the woodwork crawls out of you

don’t come licking my stoop

because your leadership pills are gone

father of the year is taking questions

quick sip delivery nods in clouds

tell self-checkout i said hi

my bus is here

crack that baby open

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

waterfalls are not
little girls exist

poems outside any nation
or sink

when the poem says “nation”
it means “bruise”

we found you w/ nations
all over your body

and we nursed you up
otherwise withholding our labor
from the dying ocean

who are you
now at the lip
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