Do not bite gentle into that good pizza (2024)
[Written with Fred Matthews]
Do not bite gentle into that good pizza,
Booze-induced hunger should burn and rave at the sight of dough,
Rage, rage against the cooling of the slice.
Though wise men know that pizza isn’t really healthy,
Because their cutlery had forked no salad they
Do not bite gentle into that good pizza.
Good men, the last slice near, crying how bright
Their bold toppings might have sizzled in the oven’s tray,
Rage, rage against the cooling of the slice.
Wild men who caught and praised the cheese in flight,
And learn, too late, they devoured it in dismay,
Do not bite gentle into that good pizza.
Grave men, near fullness, who seek a final bite
Blind eyes could blaze like ovens and be gay,
Rage, rage against the cooling of the slice.
And you, my stomach, there on the stuffed height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce growls, I pray.
Do not bite gentle into that good pizza.
Rage, rage against the cooling of the slice.
Nature has no name (2024)
Her moving breath,
risen and dissolved,
echo in silence—
gazing once, then forgetting.
The hollow chime,
bent light, adrift,
fragile patterns trembling—
vanishing, almost.
Hold a breath,
nothing touches the ground—
echoing, emptiness,
like memories, waiting.
A shape without size (2023)
Mirror in the painting
I saw your face without eyes
But you looked at me and said
The world is shape without size
And when I followed your reason
I found a place without lies
Truth sits still beneath treason
Behind its shadow’s disguise.
Artificial rain (2019)
Freshly trodden marshes,
Spit slime on sullied boots,
Tension’s kiss in music’s simulated rain,
Emulate the nature we seek,
Spit slime on manky sullied boots,
Softly beaten rhythms,
Hit time on eardrums counting loops,
Minds entranced, and artificial rain,
Visualize a picture that speaks,
Hit time on eardrums counting loops,
A mindless peace is broken,
Shit crimes by homeless goofs,
Dirty muddied curtains can’t keep out the rain,
They want to stutter our sleep,
Shit crimes by manky homeless goofs.
The willow trees (2019)
Soft rocks, looking for mushrooms,
Looking out for strange roots too,
Hurry on, the spider’s ticking,
Spinning time’s web to trap dew,
Brilliant bark, like dark gold leaf,
Check the soil nearby,
Trunks split to twirl their thirsty arms,
Earth’s dancing lungs breath the sky,
I find the mushroom, red and white,
To turn to liquid in my hand,
The blood of dreams spilt on the site,
Of Willow trees clutching the land,
Through fractal forests shine shards of twilight,
Gazing with spirit’s sleeping mind,
A hurried stumbler trespasses midnight,
Enticed by shadows of this kind.
Relative Motion 