Sketchbook
1/4/2010
Bradbury Was a Voyeur
I can’t afford these kinds of surgeries!
Who can?
seashell implants from the seashore
and TALK, TALK, TALKING
Suzie, one crimson pubic hair
poking playfully from
polka-dot panties for all to see,
cuckold by her over-weight
mercenary husband, black and white collar of
faith, bruised blue and
peach-creme on wall sized
labyrinths of un-nursed
orgasms.
ONLY $2,900,67(5)(4)(3)(2)…if you Hurry!
Deep Purple pulsing-beat blood
drips, pitter-patter-plinking on silver
spoons for the virility
of the status quo.
1/4/2010
Refrigerator Poem 1
Add country food where
seven sleep forty, oh!
first, cover fifty-four
answers found red-ripe
and then bake bread
yellow and old.
Who’s gingerbread earth
is this anyway?
1/4/2010
Refrigerator Poem 2
grainy artichokes teach more
about our real life than
trees planted tall-
buildings milling from
city to field and tapioca
photographs of farm equipment between her
thighs, revealing of myself,
baked like the gingerbread-man, planting
people on some Sunday afternoon
for my own financial gain.
The artichoke is heart
and life,
well, life is plain old death.
12/10/2009
I found the image of this painting while digging through old documents. One of my only serious attempts at oil painting, ‘Androgyne,’ 2006. Gifted to Bracken Library at Ball State University. I am not sure if it is still on view, but if you are in the area, stop in and find out. Let me know.
12/8/2009
Porcelain Philosophy
A 7-foot tall man in red
suspenders once told me,
while shaking urine from his penis into
the suspecting and willing orifice of
porcelain and copper piping,
(he boomed)
“AGHHH…now we’re having
fun!”
to which I said,
“Are we?”
“Oh yes. Things can only get worse,
never better, so
appreciate what you have today.”
I looked at my penis, flaccid,
wrinkled, and barely spitting urine,
and I thought I knew what he meant,
but I could not bring myself
to look him in the eye.
