Back at it, it seems, like a bunny to a junkie.
After something of a sabbatical the pens back to paper for better or for worse.
A few poems, take it slow.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
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DEAD TREES
Poems, Prose & other Oddities
Origins
- The Ouija Goat
- I was born into a smog unctuous metropolis of pickup trucks and flood lights, just another tomfoolery pit-stop in Generica. Fell deeply in love with literature before i could effectively walk. And grew up to write strange sonnets about earwig discotheques and rainbow pinkeye cryptographs. I attended the “odists who enjoy Thai food and despise bloodsucking parasites workshop” in 2006 and drink coffee and oatmeal stout like they're going out of style. I acted as the green-fairy fugue and master of ceremonies in a contemporary rendition of the poetic passion play “Jesus Carries Nun-Chucks when Imps Pluck Mustache Hairs” while on a scatterbrained base jumping tour and bender in the Ophidian province of the Republique Du Quebec in 2008. I enjoy freaking freely to the red noise and 35 millimeter mental penetration, black liquorice, fountain pens that bleed winged mysteries, polyphasic sleep in Tokyo oxygen bars, young coquettes with pistols, and art rich with verve and splendor.
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