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Poetry & Prose February 1, 2020


About ghosts, I said, it seems we’re at a bit of an impasse. It’s less about what I believe and more about what I claim to understand. STOP! For gods sakes, speak plainly. Honestly, i’m sick of the way you talk. Well, sure. I mean, yes, I am sure. Sure that you are. Truly, unremarkably, I am an unsure person. However, while you tediously, perpetually, seemingly inscrutably, constantly remind me of this fact, it has no bearing on our friendship. Much less our conversation about ghosts. Listen. Do you believe in ghosts or not? … Well first, I — NO! NO! SHUT UP. SHUT UP. NO. I don’t need your history. I know your history. Quit dancing around the question and answer it, do you believe in ghosts or don’t you! … I’m

sorry, he said. No. I understand. If it’s clarity you need then I will try my utmost. I breathed a deep sigh.


Such a simple word; ‘no’. But as it spilled out of my mouth i felt an array of history. Rich, true, and honest, history. Untenably my own. No, I continued, I cannot bring myself to believe in ghosts. I do however– please, allow me to entertain my own thoughts … I do however recognize a ghost’s existence as necessary. And it is because I see its existence as necessary that I choose to live in unity with the ghost that I may not see, may not know, and may not believe.

the ghost in the corner of the room,



rich in history,


i’ve got you on my mind, giver _ 2

Poetry & Prose June 28, 2019

_ no. 2
i’ve got you on my mind, giver

i’ve got you inside
i made sure to keep you close
i’ve got a heavy mind
i can’t tell you where it goes

i said it’s blue and red
said i’ve been living like a fool might
don’t tell me how to fix it up
if it’s chrome then it’ll float
if it’s chrome then it’ll float

alright, you’ve put your money up
and it’s on another fortnight

opt for an open road
Lord knows
Lord knows

hindsight, is indestructible
when you’re dealing with a birthright
my mind’s an open road
Lord knows
Lord knows

call it now, yeah, you were right
but you’ve got me on your A-team

you’ve been dealing black and white, giver
tell me where the blessing flows
tell me where the blessing flows

this is easy for me to say

Poetry & Prose April 21, 2019

i was reading in a car
catching words by each streetlight
the words were spaced too far apart
i nearly quit when i had a thought
what order of letters got me here
my primal form is no Shakespeare
and i know you think this is nothing new
to think about life as more than something to do
but if it’s just words then i feel free to say
that i don’t really care about my birthday
so if i could act on any thought
would my faith be less distraught
i gave it a chance and i found the end
there’s no life in lifeless ends

if this car stopped i could read my book
and catch the words at one time
by now the metaphor is getting old
life is change and that’s not so bold
i feel the culmination of grief in my young life
and a raging ache behind each blue eye
an anonymous person says, ‘are you okay?’
i said i’m fine and that was true
but i wish there was more that i could do
so why don’t i do it you could say
but first i should eat before i rot away

God is good and that’s all great
but i miss his voice if that’s okay

some strange sounds

Poetry & Prose April 21, 2019

i figured out what’s happening
there’s a foreign place
inside my veins
it’s reaching out
to grab me
and whether i need it isn’t up to me
it’s deep inside
like some small thing
a needy voice
that grabs me

so when my mind freezes, i’m listening
you shouldn’t be afraid




Poetry & Prose March 14, 2019

▋ LESSER_filament_no1

1993 FALL
God’s gift to me was making me left-handed. It’s not a gift, really. Not in the traditional sense. Plenty of people have gifts. It seems damn near everyone you know has something they do, something that makes them them. I had a friend, said he’d never do anything valuable in his life. Said he’d never done it and can’t see him doin’ it. Last Spring he called and told me he was moving to Kings County. Said he won the lotto. Opened a bagel shop down on third with a view of the Creek. Called it Creekside Bagels. I asked him once what it is I do and he told me I’m left-handed and you don’t see that much. I’m not sure he meant it. But it stuck with me.