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

of new brothers + fourth husbands

on pg 449   started this book as my bro

lay dying  it’s about a man living under a

bridge in knoxville tennessee  pure biblical

Cormac McCarthy:


Scorpion dust, frogpowder in sowsmilk. You’ll

shit through the eye of a needle at thirty paces.

Pieces of a dream unreeled down the back of his brain.

(Suttree  1979)


on friday in a bar  cute bartender named riley

asked if he could be my 4th husband   i’d made

an intro to husband #3  or is he #2?


cliches piling up as they are want to do after a few

don julio   now a strange quiet as i contemplate the

book’s end   what will become of me +riley +my sanity


it kept me alive   through fields of destruction   baptism of

new babybro  born in a shiva-house daydream  roundfaced

like the lostbro     but immortal   unhospiceable


our father standing by protectively  fathers can do these sorts

of things in dreams  they come unbidden  to hold your hand

and say things like: you’re the greatest little filly of ’em all girl






Winter 2019 .. here’s to eviscerated saints..and my new baby bro..

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