Of grunting and groaning

I got up in the middle of the “debate” to roll back the sliding glass door to the back yard. My dogs ran out and sniffed for their spots in the dust patch I call a yard.

Social Security

The castles moved straight,
the horses made hooks
as the black and white shapes met their fate.

I was a lover

The question of my last breath is either sober or whiskey soaked. The continuous monologue in my mind reaches the end of its reel. I am not making sense but its my senses that make me.

Where are my teeth?

The tooth fairy took all your teeth but I think she also has your innocence, and you never saw a dime.

Bus, Defeat, Miracle

The rain drops on the window made all the head lights look like shooting stars passing him. No one was walking the streets. Homeless were huddled at bus shelters, doorways and underneath shop overhangs.

Pilot, Hair, Wolf

Follicles salute bloody snouts. Extending past split ends, peering at red snow, hearing howling, growling and snarls.

Terrify, Characteristic, Throat

I watched her dance and ignored the insatiable appetite of the flames biting into my finger tips. An emptiness hit me, a tunnel opening up inside my chest, terror. Then the flame spit up its victory smoke and I was left with the memory of her dance.

Black, Balance, Equal

It’s the first name of a horse with literary fame. The dye of clothing chosen by the dead actress bisected. A type of humor laced with death, loss, illness and spite.