Hi everyone, The moment I have waiting for is just about here. The book, titled "To All My Dead Babies" will be available December 1st. I hope all who can will buy the book and support my efforts. It will be available at all the usual websites--Barnes and Noble, Amazon.com, Borders etc. I'm not sure on the final price, but it should be in the fifteen doll
they say I could have killed you that night. sometime in the night when you were marching like a soldier down the concrete between my building and the next, like a child with firecrackers you popped caps from the barrel of your toy into every window and every door, you danced like a drunken cowboy in the stree
what do you pray for after the alleluia's, glory be's, and spiritual mutterings drifting to God like vapors of steam rising above a room of good intent and holy wonderment, how alone does it feel to pray for the healing of cousin Bob or Mother or Father or grandma's liver when God's loved ones are scattered in heaps and c
Thanks for the comments, I'm glad you enjoyed it. J.
Lloyd's gone nuts again chasing the crack pipe and hoping the fifty pounds he's lost doesn't give him away, his once full chocolate cheeks are sunken clinging close to his toothless jaws, they are heavy and drag down the bags under his eyes like deflated water ballons, his walk is not straight and jovial anym
(red eight on black nine). before he died my brother used to sit for hours playing solitaire silently in front of the tv the sound turned down all the way. he would turn off his hearing aids and read lips on the faces of black and white and forty shades of gray (black queen stack over the red king).
what do you want, Johnny? want--what do I want? why do I have to want anything? don't I have enough? I have enough crap in my life, dishes that need to be washed clothes that need to be folded a bedroom that hasn't seen the floor in months, maybe years, there's bird shit on the floor and somewhe
I look like my mom not like her face or her creamy skin not the gray hair or liver spots or the crinkly flesh that hung from her arms not the dead cataracts that made her eyes milky in the center and green on the edges, I don't have her walk or the patient stare, maybe some of her meanness, but I don't smell<B
Johnny needs to see the doctor--again. he doesn't play well with others he has six faces instead of two and sits marveling at the ability of bi-peds to move seamlessly through each other, he struggles with the necessities of cleanliness and often wears his underwear several days in a row, shaving is reserved for
it's never easy trying to justify sleep when there is so much to get done, I hate that. I never lived in a mathematically sequenced life it wasn't my world--”ever." I have always skirted around the edges, if I was ever "in" it was only just barely and loosing it didn't seem to matter, it weighed less in th
I read today about the "Big" guys in poetry a sordid tale of in-fighting, nepotism, and the rigging of the contests, a sad comment on the world of the august and ivory halls of legitimacy, a shadow of darkness, crinkling the edges like dirty money, has been cast over the paragons of verse and foiled the pristine veneer of t
I'm boring myself, the last twenty or thirty lines of shit have been well, just that--shit, I can't think of a thing profound or worthy of paper or effort, again constipated, more shit, or is it the need to shit, I don't know, but it seems unworthy of the subject for me to lay a line or two to it's defense or accusation, t
Finn calls me at nine o'clock--a.m. I don't sleep much only in chunks of time, then the cuckolds in my mind demand attention, crying mean little tunes that end up on paper, but nine o'clock a.m. is shadow time and I don't like to get up, to answer his call I stumbled over a months worth of trash fall into my chair an
Thank you, I enjoyed it as well. J.
how appropriate is it to look up the skirt of your best friend's wife or his girlfriend? I'm just asking. I mean, if she walks around in a skimpy little thing of a dress and bends over to warm her hands by the fire, straight kneed, tight and firm. and what do you do when she bends over and flas
Buddah is courting a breakdown, the clown took on a wife and three kids, pre-ordered girls at 8, 12, and a 14 year old boy, then he came up with the idea that he should be able to bask in the glow of calmness, enjoy orderly kids that do their homework, kiss mommie and pop-o goodnight after happy Crest tooth brushing, a snu
Hey, buddy, can you spare a fin? J.
are you growing smaller? Bravo! J.
fuck'n A, Bro! J.
some nights, late, as is my habit I fight off the madness of my past deeds they stay stacked over in the corner under the university degrees and eccentric artwork of the bloody one, always ready to remind me of my chances at goodness, like ghosts they try to haunt me and taunt me to deeds beyond the pale--one more af
I know how it feels, baby, I’ve been there, watched the madness and drank the blues like wine from a green bottle with a fancy label, I’ve watched the blood drip drip drip from my soul and had no care to stitch the wound or stop the pain, just accepting the shit, bleeding out like medieval doctors trying to release
for hours every day shit drips off the tv screen like wax from a candle with lies, betrayals and questions of paternity, Maury, Jerry Springer, and Maury again surrounded by Divorce Court, Peoples Court, Judge Larry and Judge Judy, all seeking Texas justice to paint stupidity into daytime realities, I want to believe t
here comes the political nuts--nice shot. J.
people talk a lot of shit about the urban landscape, the inner-city catastrophe tossing grenades of self righteous fear and loathing covered in liberal costumes of intellectual banter, they bemoan the filth and violence and wonder why the poor burn their own neighborhoods and allow thuggish gangs to roam like cockroaches
bravo! J.
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