. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Of Termessos

I am the last man of Termessos,
the forgotten chick in the eagle's nest,
sandals on my weather-worn feet and a ring through my nose,
the eye of Bellerophon upon my chest,

I stand alone among stones ruined,
but not by the great Alexander's hands,
these rocks were worn by time and winds chewing,
the only unconquered city in all the land,

last guardian of the city of Termessos,
her valley in the clouds,
a great gladiator prosaic and forever stoically composed,
Romulus and Remus would be ever so proud.


Monday, May 14, 2018


Audrey climbed the old red bricks crumbling now under
her delicate wrists
until atop she perched in lime green cotton panties
and sun-kissed tits
calling down to me to toss her an ice chest cold Miller
so she could watch the moon rise later from that century-old pillar
it's quiet vigil over brackish bay
now accompanied
by a lovely naked girl alit as the setting sun
sitting holding her knees like a queen raccoon
answering to no one
breathing in the loneliness
laughing in fits

happy we got to catch this moment
when so many are missed.


Pic: bewarethebearr

Friday, May 11, 2018

Everyone's Eyes

I don't need your snake oil
or your secret tattoos
frankincense lightly dripped on your wrists
mispronounced prayers to Shiva and Vishnu
I don't need you to tell me you love me
or look starry-eyed when I kiss you
sweep the blue bruises along the inside of your white thigh
with a tissue
after I've misused you
don't place me in the same bracket as every other misguided fool
don't have the pals place bets
on whose the real lover in the room

you give everyone here the same eyes as you give me
same smile
same two-step shaking the bangles on your feet
you bless with a kiss and caress every old timer spinning a beat
meet'n'greet with dirty denizens
feasting on a carcass of rotten gossip like black forest wolves on venison
by divine design you've got a big enough heart for all their need

and it's so GOTDAMN genuine

but I'm not one of them
I've lived my life defiantly separating myself from most of them
and when by fire light it so transpired you chose me
I boasted then
promoted to sprout limbs and walk from the shapeless ocean
into the world of men
oh how we sinned
you and I

don't promise me a future
fuck that
if anything
I'll take the past
I just want you to give me those same eyes
from across that fire light
that first night I caught your glance.


Saturday, May 5, 2018


Alone in my tundra,
tons of bedrooms eyes
but I only want Kendra's,
her pectoral fins inspire
summits of grandiose desire,
collections of liars,
Kendra standing in an apron
by the kitchen fire,
a better woman than I for
having gone through the muck
and the mire,

Alone in my glacial palace,
no solace among the icicle towers
built in how many hundred slave hours?
power to the people
but this is getting ridiculous,
Kendra's tiny fists
and thermonuclear clit,
sit long enough on my lips,
and even I will have a fit,

I saw your face,
I saw your face in the stars,
the whores of heaven sprinkled
across the moon-roof of my old
alone and somewhere very far,
my bed feels like the arms of
the Minotaur,
my mind the maze of his cage,
his cave a prison,
and this lesson on me unknown,

wait for me, Kendra,
wait by the phone,
I promise,
I'll call soon.


Tuesday, May 1, 2018


What highway?
what highway's old signs?
the road trip drag
the disguise
falling sun ushers in the desert night
what design can I trust when I'm cold
when I can't be taught
to keep to myself keep to my mind
manage the pastures others leave behind
the build up
the song that plays over and over
my sister says the cloister bells ring in two-step time
who am I to smoke her last cigarette
the deluge delagate
she lived through bombs and lies
a mistress now
a babe back in 1969

she taught me smack
about smack
and about fire
she was a hurricane of desire
cymbals crashed when she cried
I was on my knees in an alley with a needle in my arm
when she died
a lonely trombone ceased playing somewhere
in the lonely night
in one minute Karina was a mountain of rhythmic pulsing glowing light
in the next

she held a nation captive
while they etched her face into a ten cent dime
a tempest coke whore sure she was
but she had a smile for all mankind
her skin was marked with splashes of blue bruises
and fingerprints
but Karina
Karina was all mine.