Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

And on the eighth day, unseasonably warm,

the hounds basking in hell,

modeling balmy, crotch-rot bikinis in Gilead,

called out—

Please, God, let our leader

mirror starkly our deepest fears and shadows,

let him be as I, for I

am the candle’s guttering, green light,

advancing the dark to

restore the carcinogenic appetite

and capital cause of cannibalism—

P.S. If you see your mother’s severed limb

in my mouth, please forgive my

obscene eating habits.

Zombies are raised,

and not born,

as I’m sure you already know.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Metamorphosis Variations

My fiction piece, “Metamorphosis Variations” (inspired by the first sentence of Franz Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis”) now appearing in 3:AM magazine. Excerpt below:

As I awoke one morning, from a night of discarded syringes and cough syrup, I found myself transformed into a woman dreaming she had been transformed into a scream. She, meaning I, awoke, the taste of mercury teasing my tongue, nerve-endings tuned to the residue of the scream I had been: the dead with polyphonous voices.

When the trembling in my legs quieted down, I swung them over the side of the bed, planted my bare feet onto the carpet, and stared at toenails painted faded calico. In staring, with my head bowed down, my hair, a sleep-warmed autumn, fell to either side of my jawline. I knew that in order to return to my pre-dream-state—I was a man of some sort, I think—I would have to pass through another scream, to release something primordial, a catch of hard existential candy lodged in my larynx. I would have to feel myself woman.

God, a plastic surgeon wearing a false mustache and dark glasses, raised her scalpel, and told me: Not all screams are created equal. Then she laughed, the blade moving swiftly.

Read the full story here.
Posted in Artwork, Books, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Conjugal

Hoarfrost mingling

with spring dew–

Hunger, sated to bloom.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Alone-In

She grew infintely wet,

a throbbing void and pulsing slate

of Braille and intent–

subletting, by touch,

urgent spells of hunger

to a silent fast.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Edie, Interrupted

Splitting images,
resurrection on a loop–
Stripping for heaven.

Posted in Artwork, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Menken

She, the Menken,
Byronic in flame
and force, mastered
the art of social media
long before technology caught up,
selling the illusion
of a man/
woman
bound naked to a horse;
she, the salacious Mazeppa,
incited a modern storm,
long before the 20th century caught up.

Adah Isaacs Menken, actress, poet, painter, 1835-1868

Posted in Artwork, Books, photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Dietrich in Heaven

My spoken word piece, “Dietrich in Heaven” is now live in the Open Mic section of New Pop Lit, a publication whose mission is to fuse pop writing with the literary, creating a new hybrid.

Posted in Audio, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose, Publications, Video | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Meaning of the Mob

Posted in Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose, Video | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

To the Lighthouse

Posted in Audio, Books, Cinema, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized, Video | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Claim for the Meek

Posted in Audio, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized, Video | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment