"It's about words, and words are all I have…"

diatribal masturbation

sometimes i go diatribal   a bit like going psycho

zillions of words come to me  some fit into stories  nicely

others are not so nice   all cancergory +fetid


it’s fucking wordglory people!


Allen Ginsberg wrote regularly on psilocybin  +won a Pulitzer

I want to know what happens after I rot  

because I’m already rotting

and who wants to get fucked up the ass really?

my ass drags in the universe  I know too much

and not enough  (Mescaline 1961)


i write unstoned+whiteknuckle  but soon the magic shroom

will be legalized  i tried them at 12  +Jesus called me into our

ravine  where witches  giants  +our long dead grandfather hungout


now spat out  +decrepit   i’m learning how to ride the waves  so fuckchaos

creepy armskin  +omi    i will rise up again     somewheres



Winter 2021  ..youth she’s wasting..

smell that smell

my bestfriend at 14  was named  Joni   +she positively

stank of sex   my big bro gave her sidelong glances  +sniffed

in our spare time we listened to the other Joni  +smoked pot


suburban TO  circa 1972    i’m sure she went all the way!


my younger freakish bros  employed as narcs by the CIA  counter

espionage by day +skulking in alleyways   told my father   who

banned Joni 💔      they’re still pretty uncool


Joni’s beautiful mother  Shirley  died this year  a round  hippie chic

married to a butcher  named Lou   my jazzcat father cast aspersions

on their faux bouvier too    (bouvier my assss) 


i still love the 2 Jonis   one  in a wheelchair   the other  unmothered

i hope the scent of sex still wafts up   my friend Joni is 64  how much

more  will there be?




FALL 2021  ..the pen is more powerful than the sword boyce..

the snake-oil blues

do u have a roster of carpetbaggers in your family?

all sleaze+imposter   feigning love  ardently   especially

during heroin addiction  date rape  and the like


u probably do not


reminiscent too of  the d’Urbervilles  sham aristocrats  preying

in this case the mud of Poland+the dung of Kenora embedded in

their shoes  blahniks


not unlike themselves  embedded in my psyche  flotsam+jetshit

now being excised from my heart  one chunk at a time  was i born

to be kind?!   clearly a curse   but hey   the last shall be first eh






Fall 2021

..last MRI of this poet’s heart..




undo unclutch unfuck

i was given a painting of the simple word  UNDO  in pink

it is still wrapped  but one day soon  in a house near blue   water

i aim to hang it


as a symbol  of my abandon (a little like tom petty in his room up top)

hands up  if u need to be   undone   unclutched   unfucked



the masks



the naked ape



my mother’s hands

from my wrists



of my pursuit  to

leave the house


so what does UNDO mean  to u?



Fall 2021

shivaghouls & freelove

she races across the city  whenever death visits my family

hurried + schadenfreude  arriving breathless  with evil-envy glow

this has been going on for 49 fucking years


either i was the most exciting thing that ever happened to her  or

she is my stalker  someday to shiv me   mid-shiva   her name is Cindy

her best friend Ruby  (who was a babe)  stole her Polish fiancé  Harold


his sister  was my camp counsellor  at 10  +my big bro bedded her  on my

mauve bedspread  many a shabbas eve   circa the Summer of Love

he is stardust

now golden

finding his way

back to the garden

RIP Marty


(yes she stalked me at his shiva too..)



Fall 2021   ..long may u run Martino..

momento mori

(earliest known lighthouse woman.. circa 1785)


my old mother chose a lighthouse to paint   before she knew

how dark it would get   as the alchemists say:  nigrum nigrius nigro

black blacker than black  u know  that dark nigredo place  where u

are forced to transform    willingly or unwillingly


it will be very dark   the constant refrain of a child client named Archie

immortalized in my treatise  The Dark Witch of Countertransference

Resistance   penned twenty years ago


+  it has grown darker these past few years   death  the great big black hole

swallowed a brother   but wait!  maybe death is the meditation state  the part

where u are in the deeps   + it is nigrum to the max


with the monkey mind finally anesthetized   a light shines behind your eyes

SO BRIGHTLY   you never want to return to embodiment   not a death wish

rather  a LIGHT wish     c’mon  light sabres at the ready!


old mother is lighting the way  today she forgot what that tall white tower

with the beacon is called   she is a monk now   forgetting+remembering

that the light   is calling her home




Fall 2021   RIP.. Blackie Blacksonavitch 1966 -1979


ode to insufferable hipsters+their suffering dogs

some vile imposter in there  shrill+headslam  bellows

ABORT!  ABORT!    is it fear?   hell yes   that cocoon lover

will be dust should i become  madame butterfly🦋   but i am

stealth   i trick my lazymind and say:


guess what?   u don’t have to write today!


these pens+papers are just being arranged  on the desk

(as hip dogs howl in the alleyways  everyfuckingday)  so kick back u

lazy bastard  +listen to the hounds brayyyyyyyyyyy  (or harpoon a few)


stealth poet picks up the pen     words fly


or this scenario   NO i am NOT moving to a place   with whales

i am just jerking  spouting off   one+the same?  quite likely   so i trick

that inner pussy and say:


don’t worry  u NEVER have to grow or change or suffer  or believe

we’ll leave u here on this nice little precipice dear  where boredom

ennui  +your mother   will eat at your liver


Prometheus came to love the eagle

Sisyphus the rock

and u the braying dogs of west queen west


Up!  Pig!  On!  Faster!  On!  Adieu!  Pig!  Yip!  Adieu!   But

habit is a great deadener. At me too someone is looking, of

me too someone is saying he is sleeping, he knows nothing,

let him sleep on. (Waiting for Godot  Samuel Beckett  1954)



Fall 2021  ..waiting for Godot is not all it’s cracked up to be..


life’ll kill ya then yer dead

when the last cave person lay  inert+decompose

his people kicked at his legs  +left him there to sleep

when they returned in the morn   there was he


now shorn of scalp   nightweasels they came   the tribe

pondered this  +huddled in fear  who would next lay?   +was

this inert thing a contagion?  like the barking cough they all

barked  come damp springs


a pyre was made  +they looked at each other sidelong   thus

paranoia  +religion  were born   alongside immortality +fate

we aren’t much more sophisticated  eyeing the bereaved suspiciously


will they give what he had  to me?  think smallpox  diphtheria  et al

everything burned  clothes  linens  toys   go ahead  ask anyone who

was in a sanitarium  circa 1925


from our old mother’s recollections  at 7:   saw her parents thru a

fence darkly  toys ash   sister dead   +then there is grief itself   a country

where u linger for about a year  skin flayed   half mad   with one foot in 

their  graves


20 something doctor in sweats  tells u to buckthefuckup!  i’ll give u three

months  then a prescription  this as the scent of dying brother wafts up

u know how deathbed scenes cling   then she comments on my pink shoes

+ returns to her screen


she couldn’t put a blouse on?  a pair of pants?  a bra?   fer chrissakes..



Fall 2021

there’s always the afterlife suckers

(Will having the last laugh…)


there’s a guy listing close behind me  old +tobaccoyellow

the sky threatens pink  on a day so grey   even the pigeons

weep for their dead    u get the picture?


wait!  what light over yonder window breaks?  bear with me now

it’s that goddamned spaceship   the gloam lifts   i open my umbrella

+drift   earth becomes small   and William Shatner gives me the finger


but hey  i float hindenburg above the covidmob   they gnash for

turkey  +an easy cure   SUCKERS!    there is no cure   there is only

Dr. Isaac Bogotch on tv  with his skinnyface  +a fully stocked bar

(go on +check it out tonight)


he anoints himself with lagavulin  his cup runneth over   most nights

medical gibberish   brings on dyspepsia  on others  you lay supine

drooling   as the wild ants who invaded your bed  stroke u



FALL 2021 🐜🐜🐜🐜




hey homies

meet my new  meditation parents  Jeff+Tamara   who

live inside my phone  on the  Calm App  where breathing

+ crickets   are ubiquitous  eh


in an insect ridden fugue  i now walk the streets of my filthy city

MORE AWAKE than i have ever been   and believe me   i thought

i was  AWAKE   paid shamans worldwide  to WAKE   for chrissake


this is not the same thing as  WOKE   wherein  stunned hipsters

in Herschel backpacks  spew platitudes   i know  i know   my gruff

father grumbled about my own  AWOKENING  through:







+he was probably right

as am i  re: the unwoke  unwashed  lemmingherd


i was introduced to  Calm  by my skinny bro  no  not chubbychubby

as the other one is known   the revelations have come  like shit

through a goose   some foul   others magic  +redolent of escape


my cocoon lays  like a broken condom on the sidewalk   i see these

everywhere   5 at my feet  in the parking lot of my old mother’s rez  where

on moonless nights they dance  by day they creak+huddle   near traffic


i digress


what Jeff+Tamara are huckstering is  HOME   Jeff even quotes Jimi H

+Bob M  who knew that  HOME  is inside  Dorothy knew it too   in my 1st

poetry collection from almost a decade ago  !  i float the phrase GO HOME


it felt like a vague revelation  but now entering my final 3rd  it is crystalclear

dig deep foundations  into yourself  dredge  sift  mine  that HOME   the one

that resides behind your eyes


the door barred by:




+faux woke


in my next book i will remove the word  GO   anyone who has witnessed 60+

revolutions around the sun  knows   that HOME   is a state of mind





FALL 2021  ..hey Calm.. lose the crickets would ya?..🦗🦗

Post Navigation