Iambic Utterances and Other Wayward Words. Scribbles from a twisted mind, sorting though strange experiences and often irascible ideas. Ode to An Immigrant Grocer. Oh, I can tell. By the skittish look in your eyes,. And the trembling of your camel-colored hands;. You are going to hate me too. That you have never actually met;. A Black, a Latino, an Asian, a Catholic, or even an American Jew.

Of the space between us. The green patina of sarcasm. Reduced to a mere photograph. Why did you build that bomb. The one that divided us. A mushroom cloud of discontent. Turning two into too many nights. Alone and cold in the dark. I tried to seek a sign up above. Past an endless sky without light. Finally I ask myself am I the one. Am I jealous of the space between us. Of the fragile photograph kept under glass. Was it me who built that bomb.

Ein Dichter schöpft die Tragik aus eigener Seele. A poet creates tragedy from his own soul, that soul which is alike in all men. Der Cameo, die Monade und das Neben. Lei come si chiama? Wortlose Sprache im Verständnis. Und Sidney Bechets Saxophon streut Schwaden, klingend. Das Bett in der Provinz.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished. Despite all this, I might be the busiest unemployed person I know. Please go buy something from my shop burgheoisieboutique. Originally posted on The Reclamation Administration. Maybe May is for Multi-tasking.

A Modern Way to Die. Twitter Fiction Disposable Lit for a Use Once then Destroy Culture. When Alice wakes up in the middle of the night, she finds John unconscious, and unresponsive at the wheel.