Glint

I saw Lucifer in the eyes of glinting teeth. The glimmer of enamel nails, chewed to the hairy skin. There! The setting sun on a disbeliever's plane. Spoken to me in devil's repose: fly the carpet of the Golden Jet. Wings take flight on far flung wind; fandango of superhero songs, hooded ornaments of dissonant sounds, despair; powdered beatles touched in Epstien's Rubbered Soul. See me! See you! See the baby blue eyes eat unholy gaps between glinting teeth. Devil worship. Atheist in secret prayer. Believer in denial of lovers frozen, homeless in creepy dreams. The glint of the teeth. The rubber soul. Epstein and Lucifer in armbar of unquestioned life. Those rants; bodyguards of theological prose.

Greatest Ever

Greatest opening to a 20th century novel:

"I am an American, Chicago born — Chicago, that somber city — and go at things as I have taught myself, free-style, and will make the record my own way: first to knock, first admitted; sometimes an innocent knock, sometimes a not so innocent.”

-Adventures of Augie March by Saul Bellow

Late Night Fingers

Maybe its a sign of weakness. Maybe its a sign of strength. But if need be, I'll blog with a wretched heart. An overwrought soul. I'll type with twisted fingers late into the night.

I Belong

What do I belong to? Words on a blog...My aspirations...My inspirations...A past that lifts me and holds me back. No matter what I deny, it's all of them.

You, just like me.

Channel Surfing

I'll make microwave popcorn. Open a box of chocolate. I'll lay in front of a TV and watch late night movies. UFC fighters. A funny man or two. Sometimes I'll belch. Or I'll pass gas through my a$$. Is this all there is to life?

Sky Country

I can see a sky through grey clouds
A heavy mist
A Thick Fog
Really?

Post Card

Once I knew a strongman who could rip porcelain sinks out of concrete walls. He had a temper, too. One day he lost it so bad he tore apart fire hydrants and took down iron lampposts. Much to the chagrin of the police he was impervious to the pain of billy clubs and the sting of pepper spray. So twenty cops bravely tackled him to the ground and took him to a jail. But that night, with the guards asleep, he easily spread open the prison bars, slipping into the freedom of the night.

I hadn't heard from him for years. Then a postcard arrived. He says he lives on a tropical island of tranquility. Gentle tribes people have assuaged his turbulent soul. Now he loves a beautiful woman who has calmed his angry heart. And in a turquoise sea he sees his Maker. I am jealous of a man who is both strong and newly at peace with the world.