Fog fries and mist bitters

Thursday, November 9, 2017 at 2:53 pm


See what that old loon did as she stood singing, what a jilty-jot silly fool jesting folly, the skies whipping up black clouds all the while too. At first, ​I thought she was calling in a storm, a winged weather wytch, foul and lovely, but she’s just a loon.

It’s churning down deep as it is on high, that ain’t just a reflection in the lake. Siggy bullfrog croaking and them sunfish​ a jumpin’ like they in hot water. Maybe it is hot bubbling mud balls belching out plastic and cans, thought I saw a tiara frame dull and rust glitter, glittering paste stones gone.

There are three dates in the sand, washing tide and a crotchety crab with boxing gloves pushing the time away as a fidgety faecal​ like funk wafts by, a second rate boss and a man that thinks he’s got control of me opens his mouth out of which flies saccades waves vile velocity low and retching.

I turn to see the sun swallowing purple and orange,
Yellow and white are my eyes,
and my teeth are
a million guillotines.

Categories: Poetry

The Banks of the Columbia River

Tuesday, November 7, 2017 at 2:46 pm


Many times I’ve stood at the banks of the Columbia River with an eye of sorrow as vehicles rush by just past the ditch.
Deadwood at the shoreline, floating down-stream. Somedays the algae foams sickly about the edges.
Fish carcasses in the marsh, soggy, barely recognizable, bones and skin, teeth, the teeth always remain little spears to tear flesh from bone, bone-crushing devastation.
How many days I must have walked before standing so still in this spot. The racket of vehicles never-ending, zoom, zoom, zooming by and I stand ever still on the banks of the Columbia like a reed of silence, the death-dealing residue of lives, wood, and bone. There is no go-going from here, only life into death and back again, so simple, uncluttered, pure. The water is murky brown and at least twice a year warnings are posted that it’s dangerous to swim in, flesh-eating bacteria to claim its victory, the underbelly pushing back.
I could never break through to you. Your firmament is murky brown, hazy, almost opaque, but I see your bones now, perhaps some skin, or is that river slime, and a tooth or two, dull from all the tender flesh you’ve devoured.
If you find yourself on the banks of the Columbia River with an eye of sorrow, maybe, just maybe, it will wash you clean.

Categories: Ethers


Wednesday, October 25, 2017 at 3:57 pm

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Categories: Journal


Friday, March 4, 2016 at 1:46 am


I think I’ll turn you to stone
this taste in my mouth
the space
your words floating higher out of reach
dirt is my crown and it pulls me deep
tangled thoughts
or memories
it’s all the same
so I’ll look you in the eyes and see you as stone
Perhaps a shrine
in time

Categories: Journal, POPment

I Love you Mamo — 15 years dead today and you still live in me!

Tuesday, February 17, 2015 at 12:49 am

Categories: POPment


Monday, February 9, 2015 at 10:30 pm

Snowdrift of a man
Light and cold
Pale painted image
Hollow words barely there
Flying ideas all blown round
Chilly man

Categories: Blood

Agent of destruction

Thursday, January 29, 2015 at 4:00 pm

Enemy lover
You burn me from the inside
None to see the ash or smell the smoldering
Little worlds in orbit
The pull of planets in motion
I am not a planet
I’m an asteroid
Collision course set
Annihilation of you
Burning star
You thought to put this in me
A perfect shell for your pleasure
Parts of me are stone and the more you heat
The hotter my glory gets
In time I’ll burn your tender of tenders
The far reaches first
But I am coming for you
And in my tails wake
All the planets you rule
One by one with you in sight
I am your shot across the bow
Your devastation
From across the galaxy you look like any other star
Slowly burning out

Categories: Blood

Pluto ‘n Saturn

Tuesday, September 23, 2014 at 4:12 pm


It’s dirty work being a lover, seems there is always something missed in the cleanup, little betrayals seep into the fibers, sometimes unseen, sometimes without scent, or stain, but there in the sheet weave marks are made. I think of sweet release and silence in the dark of so many moments that bind one to another. Somehow it all comes down to contrast, sacred barometer. The heart knows what words conceal, vague answers and a ping in the gut as the pressure rises. The epidermis knows what the eyes do not see, mirror rites of blood and tears, lies and truths.  Holy time lays it all flat and made so the lovers may see clean turned corners tightly pulled weave and the stains no matter how small show under the suns golden rays.  Burning desires, burning hearts and limbs… and lives. Dirty, filthy little germs to make us sick, spreading lies and love, burning throat and thighs. Tightly woven veil of words. Filtered fluid and your flowing frigid stare, singe and burn, and stab, stab, stab that heart so clean and bare to you. Stain the sheet for time she sees the humid air, sickly seep.

The dirtiest part of being a lover is knowing that nothing comes clean, be it one time or two, six years or fifty — the weave and the stain are lovers too.

Categories: Journal


Thursday, May 22, 2014 at 3:02 pm

An old incarnation of the many faces of a band we had (Sleskipoo and I)… this is a video that was part of an art show in Chili (The Babylon Project) I just re-listened too and wanted to share over here, I usually only keep this page for my diary entries but here it is nonetheless, maybe I’ll post more lowtech fun from the past…


Categories: POPment


Saturday, May 17, 2014 at 9:49 pm


Rabbitman, you take my dreams and twist. I think I thought this period was going to be less, or perhaps more. It’s hard to know where half way is but I think I am on the other side because the light is different and my heart is somehow changed. It’s funny because I have these moments of beauty over tea with old friends and the world looks sweet then I sit with you and watch as you turn my words into knots so hard it hurts and I so far from where I started, lost but for my memory of home. Those dangling branches obscure the view of the visage behind that hideous cackle of a voice just round the bend and you are gone again. I am big because you are small.

Categories: Journal

Lady Medusa

Monday, May 5, 2014 at 11:42 pm


I see you Queen Medusa

This world is no place to glance back at once you’ve gone

Turn it to stone

The days are more beautiful in your garden when no one is there to see

Sacred secret, sing sweet sister

Fold in and away and you’ll live forever

Gone from the little pictures they paint

Run outside and shake your sin lady serpent

Where there are not eyes to slay your ways

See your flowers bloom and die

The days are scented solitary

Oh, Queen Medusa, it comes round

They tell stories of your ways

But I know there are none to see the truth

And tell

I know this path, Lady Medusa, for I have a scared heart too

We are all monstrous, one way or another






Categories: Ethers


Thursday, February 20, 2014 at 3:37 pm



This was the first year that your death date came and went, that I did not pause, that I forgot – Mamo, I have finally moved on with only your light in my heart, love is all that remains. This exile has been ages.

There was never a child that loved her mother more than I. Your gravity kept me for so long that now as I float away I can see what a gift of light you are, I see you as a supernova, traveling to the ends of all that is, free of the orbit you held when I was yours.

I am taken back that your death has finally released me; it’s as if I slept though it and no longer have to get up for it, remarkable.

I stopped running too. So many moves and places, so much art and solitude despite all the scenery, but I stopped and have a home once again, you live here too. Mamo, my heart is full as I can see all the love I’ve lived, even in my life away from the world, this love lives free of the people and faces. I bled out all the poison on the Altar and asked to pay my debt to life; this is no longer an exile, it is freedom.  The blood drained and dried and went to the winds. I am still alone, yes, but I am not lonely.

Forever your child-

Categories: Journal


Wednesday, February 5, 2014 at 9:35 pm


Moments swim round like bubbles pushing to the surface, tiny, tickling worlds in memory, how I become heavy as they push past, sparkling lights lifting away, if I could touch one and possess it again, convince it that it was mine and pull it back in, breathe it, bathing light stay for a moment more before joining the sea of effervescent lives lived pushing ever to the surface away from the density of matter sinking downward like clay. If I could find you again.

Categories: Blood


Saturday, December 14, 2013 at 9:15 pm


To be part of something,


we all live lives,

spokes in wheels on roads.

The world has been infiltrated and they say it’s a conspiracy;

Emotion, compassion, connection, these things are dying out.

Surely singularity is near and those of us not willing to sacrifice the beauty of error and emotional folly will be phased out.

The day is coming, just look at your life: do you feel lost/ or alone/ not able to understand the motives of those around you/ are you looked at as irrational by those that claim to love you/ are you seen as too emotional and ridiculous/ do you find yourself lost in the web of logic when it comes to your emotions and what is rational?

We are the remnants of the old world, pure in a way yet unclean to the new world.

Don’t drink their water, or eat the food, stand up!

If you are reading this, know that there are others, we live and are as isolated as you,

Stay true and strong.


Categories: Journal

What a breakdown looks like

Wednesday, December 4, 2013 at 9:48 pm


You may spend years looking for something you forgot about

More time in bed than out of bed

You realize that everything has invisible strings, even solitude

When the cat breaks your favorite pretties and you just clean up the mess and return to bed

When your planning includes what you can do without

Remembering that everyone you are related to is either dead or has disowned you for unknown reasons

Coming to see that nothing really matters

When you stop asking why

Seeing your fuckups more than your triumphs

Feeling like an unnatural hole that nature keeps trying to close

Thinking about the mean things people say

Categories: Journal


Wednesday, October 30, 2013 at 4:20 pm


It’s easy to make me the villain, I sure do a good job without trying. I wonder about what is unseen. Does the thought of me sting the tongue, make you grind your teeth…  When is the score settled and the hidden revealed?

I’m so ashamed of all the things I’ve done in my sleep. Wicked sirens of love sing so sweetly that I think to be one until the deep swallows me.

Solitude is the way of the wise.  I have no desire for the outer world, only my garden and art – my monastery of daydreams.

Burden sticks to the skin, obligations of decorum swirl on the surface and then that song.  I’ve seen enough of the people in this world. I always serve my pound of flesh and yet it seems I’m the thief lying about the under taste.  There’s no more mystery in sex, only dicks and pussies, it’s all rancid.

I’ll stay away.

Categories: Journal

Lead in water

Thursday, October 10, 2013 at 3:06 am

lead in water

You gonna fall like lead in water

Lost like tears in water

I think I’ve waited long enough

On the start it all went, you know

I lost the seconds and hours

And years

Close your eyes again and see

And be with me

This stinking pain ain’t nothin’ to be proud of

Seems a time to claim your love

To claim me

All the rippling days just moving by

But you got your pride

And those ideas people have about you

I think about the next time round

How can I get there

To the place where I found love

Just before I fucked it up

The prize sinking like lead in water

Them years all tears and water

Categories: POPment


Thursday, October 10, 2013 at 2:12 am


That One that wakes up with my name on his lips

The one waiting to see me

Me, only me


Categories: POPment

Pocket full of pussy

Thursday, September 26, 2013 at 7:29 pm

I don’t like you “Anytime, Anywhere” people. You have no focus. Addiction of obviousness. Here a pussy. There a pussy. Pocket pussy. Stripper pussy. Nerd pussy. Any pussy. The common denominator. So I cover my pussy. You’ve all killed the thrill. Dirty for sport. Raunchy for fashion. Get it when you can. Stick it in a thousand holes and you’ll never know. You’ll just never know.   You folks live dead. TV. TV. TV. That club. That Bar. Those people watching TV. Drunk sex is dead sex. You dead fester and stink. That girl. And that girl. And that hole. Fill your pocket full of pussy “Anytime. Anywhere”.


Categories: Blood

Canopy & ground cover

Friday, September 13, 2013 at 4:59 pm

I wear long robes like a holy woman

Like a person stepped away

This world is not mine

Or the people, no, the people are not mine

Only the sound of the trees and animals soothe me

So I wear long robes like a holy woman

Where did it all go wrong, this world’s people are lost

They sell the grass and the worms

They sell each other and tight clothes

They fuck and fight

These are not my people

I wear long robes to hide

Canopy and ground cover


Categories: Journal