“Drag Me in Before the Rains”

14 Jul

“Drag Me in Before the Rains”

Forests bristle at the one dart

to the center of our foreheads

is the only option for potions

it’s hot furniture, kissed to the doves

I knocked back powdered ridges,

fell through falls, shimmering water

they barbecued your lawns

a haunted scarecrow

from a distant planet

when planes thrash and the spaceship hardens in disaster

pull out of battles, juiced spear,

barbed battering ram

speaking love in the shade of blouses

desires infestations, to crash

spaceships at some point beyond rash

half will survive this time warp

mirror a bottle brain, a finger in a test tube

a future recreation of each forest

of every bloodied-lip dawn.


“Bathing in Spirits”

12 Jul

“Bathing in Spirits”

In a pirate ship of any town

as you filter out the fish

the sun strong enough to stand

and all honors devolved

for pale queens

sequin into sorrow

all blue, nobody believed in

time to sit and brood

cast off the fish-tank light

nobody will find you

in the bounty

for this beautiful belief in spirits

the dead elves of broken promises

threads kissed, a time revoked

bathed in rose light of blue lips

fastened forever together in stitches

the street that walked upon us

deserted us when we were happy

to blow kisses of glass

belief in spirits.


11 Jul

Review of THE SEVEN MADMEN by Roberto Arlt

1 Jul

It’s hard to evaluate this baffling novel, which either may be a reason to read it or a reason not to. At times the irreverent, loopy proselytizing of its main characters during its central section concerning a politicized mega-organization of progressive brothels caused this reader’s eyes to glaze slightly o’er; add to that the undramatic murder finally realized in the last few pages after which a character mutters “that ought to do it” which was the only other discernible plot point in this flimsy and maddening opus, and you have an odd, airy, dreamy sort of book entrenched in monetary struggle, class divisions, and hope relegated to lunacy. These madcap digressions, soapbox characters, and ineffable flashes of deteriorating language veering into luminescence end almost arbitrarily, to be continued in the next volume (novel) entitled The Flamethrowers. This quote from the about the author section best sums this book up: “He was thrown out of school at the age of eight, reportedly for writing the following note to his teacher: “Senorita, let us run away to the sea. Dressed in black velvet I shall carry you off to my pirate ship. I swear by the corpse of my hanged father that I love you. Yours till death. Roberto Godofredo, Knight of Ventimiglia, Lord of Rocabruna, Captain of the Whaler TACTITURN.”

Video Diary 1

1 Jul

My first video diary features me reading from Splatter von Rainbow, singing a medley, and playing with a southern accent.

Check it out here.

“Auto-Cannibalistic Tendencies”

29 Jun

“Congratulations, Honey!”

14 Jun

“Congratulations, Honey!”

We were on the best team

we could wait up

to pretend not to recognize you

all the balloons dreamed

of our successes

why did the scandal

because sandals

and your purse-money burns

a woman returns to her family from work

on fire, plagued to receive the gifts

offering sentiments beyond expression:

a dated dear, a happy camp,

a ruined waltz, tearing your dress

in the best of the beast teeth

a sparrow walks,

a victim showers in shadows

talking in sparks.

Splatter von Rainbow (my new book) published today

27 May

I’m terrifically excited to announce that my newest book, Splatter von Rainbow, is available for purchase today through the usual monopolized channels. Its genesis and completion was a strange and windy road. It started off as a sort of competition piece for a press that did not release it; they’d asked that I do something inspired by John Waters, Thomas Ligotti, and Alejandro Jodorowsky, if memory serves, which it usually doesn’t. Yet, upon searching an old email from 2015, here was the original proposal: “4. A 70s b-movie adaptation of Thomas Ligotti directed by the love child of Alejandro Jodorowsky and John Waters.

“A mannikin falls in love with a drag queen without arms and a detachable head which has floated away to outer space. They decide to elope, but the mannikin has previously been cursed and made a devilish deal with a headless horseman sorcerer who banishes them to exist permanently in a dream within a dream in order to fulfill his earlier promise of making the mannikin a real woman at long last. They end up as slaves to a monstrous reptile race on an endless desert where they must strip and fornicate with monsters for the enjoyment of the reptiles to gain closer eyeball proximity in their glass helmets at night. Only by killing visions of their unborn children will holographic images of them appear in each other’s cells at midnight so they might one day perform a simulacrum of making love and both retract their souls back to the two eternal warrior women they have lived and loved as through an infinite number of past lives.”

The end result, after years of revisions, second-guesses, is quite different, as the new synopsis will attest (browsable through the usual monopolized channels).

Working on this book has been an unusual and beautiful experience, maybe even more so than other works I’ve attempted to craft, in its various transformations—but what stands out most is my experience working and living and Bolivia, during which I wrote the bulk of it and to which I returned and expanded over the years, reflecting upon and journeying through both the real and unreal feelings I experienced during that time.

I remember one afternoon composing some of its best sections during a feverish daydream while my wife and her art instructor wandered off in Valley de Las Animas. It was an unforgettable afternoon, one which will remind me for the rest of my life of the transformative experience of creating art, the thrill of composition, the endless channelling of chilling yet alluring voices from a beyond, an extension and questioning of what it means to be human, an expansion and treading past the very realms of existence itself.

Thanks to Nihilism Revised, S.C. Burke, and all the writes, friends, and readers who challenged and questioned me along the way.

“We Were Innocents Then”

9 May

“We Were Innocents Then”

A kid took a trip aboard a ship

broad and strong, he grew

into all the trees

never ceased shaking a lovely headdress

we were innocents then

died with the blondes.

A spell took a sparrow swallow

through all swirls of oil waters

your digital walls

to pull through sailboats and tooth

and the day lobster’s sigh

the dry moon of afternoons

spray a devil wore

any ecstasy

without your throat coat

a cheetah’s perm

coated in miserable jams

and fresh squeezed

the green blood of crocodiles

trickling through the eaves

we’re innocents then

as now and ever were

a kiss of poison, a flower of pain:

I can’t wait to end to begin again:

we were innocents then.

Puzzled by a swollen poster

hung on your bedroom wall

a drawing: that is all

but fill would feed your feared friends

a bottle of rum could start to cry

the spells we won, the beasts

through bushes at last release

on bloodied knees again

we were innocents then.

We were innocence’s then

and under wounds were flowers

at least in undress

turned heads from centuries of rain

the soul’s will to begin again:

we were innocents then.

Splatter von Rainbow (new book) coming May 26th, 2019 on Nihilism Revised

22 Apr

I’m pleased to announce that I have a new book coming out on May 26th called SPLATTER VON RAINBOW on Nihilism Revised. I wrote this when I was half-asleep this morning about its release while in a celebratory mood:

Like all books, this was both a beautiful and horrible battle through swarms or past and future stars. It began with a seed which was charged or shined across years. Sometimes an orphan; at others, a comet’s tail you could just barely hold onto—but now it’s an actual book you can hold in your claws and your paws, not a hologram any longer, and not a sparrow in a sky painted the color of bird.


Tragorius, an armless gent living in the far-distant future, can’t seem to get a break. First homeless now working at an unfashionable lingerie store in Phantasy Mall under cruel management, Tragorius is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Yet his fortunes soon change: Tragorius falls in love with Bionica (a manikin) with whom he, after striking a deal with a perverse magician, travels through past lives. But the past lives aren’t exactly what they’d bargained for, especially with phantasmagoric goddesses like Hobgoblin Sue and Splatter von Rainbow following them around while bending the rules of time and space with goddess strength. Join Tragorius and Bionica through this mind-melting romp. You might just slip away into one of your own past lives in the process!