stereoscopic distortions

in the beginning there was the word — 
in the end, only images 
a perversion of the symbols and pictures 
and…

Multigravida

My stab at writing like a favorite poet

I blew my breath into the empty shell of a snail

Monday 3pm, Eccles Spoons

there are big coats on everywhere in here — 
it’s like being up in the hills
only there is whiskey and big cracked…

Hidden by Design

A poem

The streets

As I Slowly Rip Open the Sky

There are no excuses when I’m ready to die