Category Archives: Poems

High clues man.

I Wiped My Mouth On This Poem

a creation of piled clippings
the confetti blocked my aorta
causing pulses to coagulate in my head
a fete in my tete i’d let it set
but somehow i now have realized
i’d meet the spectre if i slept

March 8, 2004

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a film titled untitled

you look at me
i glance at you
you point at me
i nod at you
you smile at me
i know what to do
there is scaffolding
and scotch, silk sheets,
skywaves, and singing
and a fade out. . .

we kissed at the end of the film
your eyes were closed, your arms internal
your thoughts of brazen streets and cloudy nights
my stubble leaving marks on your wan cheek

Unknown, likely 2001

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a samisen song
burnished blue in brisk sunlight
a free sea side dawn.

Unknown, likely 1999

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one in a ten million

how many times does it seem?
that the step taken was a word on a plaque.

when your way is plagued by the blue velvet fog,
quite like the purple haze or the indigo smog.
it is a day of the grandest sort the one that is clear.

in nine of ten million
you would not even realize it was so.
in 9,999,990 out of that ten million
you could not even realize that it was not.
but on that one day designed by dogs.
you realize that there is a path to your route and it is right.

May 1999

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Dora the Implorer

The zipper spilled a watery nun on the ground.

Her presence demanded steps of inspiration,
groans towards the heavenly helicopters,
and for the father to relieve the fevers, the chills,
but she evaporated and left winter turf,
so he clenched his hand and demanded milk, spat it out,
and sobbed where her liquid bosom had lain. 

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Digital “High Clues”


You can now download digital versions of my poetry book at Kobo.

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Valdosta, GA

The screens shouted and the opportunity beckoned me to remember her gaze.
A search party had been called, the helicopters have been roaring
The roman chronicles are blazing and my love cries.

Oh dumb me, libraries are only good for a shower and a book.

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Soon the Eleven Gates

Along the smouldering rice pyres
Within ear shot of dancing mynas
And between the sequential whitewash gravestones
Were ceaseless chalky reminders
Of how far it would be until our travails were ending
Our eight spoked wheels no longer to turn
When we would collapse as if we were asleep

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For Whomever It May Concern

Two lit British soldiers were high upon the wall
Side reflected in the the mirror and the harping was nothing at all
If only they could dance on the bald suit it would be a ball

But the bartender needed to serve a blackberry and decimated the dream.

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“high clues” is now for sale

If you have a desire to part with 4.5 + shipping you can get a copy of “high clues,” my first book of poetry on Amazon. A kindle version will be forthcoming.


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