Monthly Archives: July 2013


You seductress of ages past,
I form like iron around your little finger,
I fight a losing battle every time
Just to contain my liquid heart.
I become less of me
As more of you
Invades my senses
And my ideals.
I whither in my forged armour,
And despise this vessel of hope
I unwittingly become.
Damn you and your suggestive smile
Damn you and your depth of chest
Damn you and your fevered hips
Damn you and your fine formed fingers
Running rings around my willing limbs
As we casually play
‘Who Forgos This Friendship First’
Not I
Here I walk
But you have known from the start
That I want you
So catch me if you can

Leaving Less Than Nothing

If I could change
Just one thing about you
It would be everything.
More than that
I’d leave nothing behind,
I would erase your memories
And any trace of me
So you would wonder,
Upon waking the next morning,
Where that long auburn hair came from,
Why the pillow next to yours
Smells like ylang ylang and sandalwood
And who left the second marked ring
From a red wine glass
Upon the oak table.
A traitorous sign of our final goodbye
Filled with too many silences
Struck heavy by the best of intentions
But with the knowledge
That no known future
Contained us together.
I would depart then
In the cold depth
Of heart break night
Leaving you
With just the threads of hair
The smell of skin
And a misbegotten ring
Or two.

Live Now

Be young and foolish
Be lovesick
Be lighter after dark
Be heavier and sated in the morning

Lay down
Discover new lips
New body parts
New ways to feel another’s skin
Unveil the source of passion


Sing loudly

Breathe the ocean at sunrise
Lick ice air long after dark

Drink wine on a porch,
At a lookout,
On a pier,
With company,
And on your own.

Laugh so big you wake the world
Don’t be afraid to scream
Or moan
Or speak the truth.

Envy no one
Forgive everyone
Forget nothing
And wedge your happiness
Within every day
And every hour
Because luck never runs out
And neither does love.


You get to live more than once
They are called minutes,
You get to live

Dark Man

He looked and sounded
Just like a young Johnny Cash
Perched upon the bar stool
Camouflaged by its dark burgundy wood
He drank three Devil’s Beard whiskeys
Smoked a half a pack of Dutch Mule cigars
And wrote the word ‘foreign’
Eight times on his napkin
Before leaving
In snake skin boots
Well oiled hair
And a shirt he stole
From Graceland