Another Poem

The Devil Talked Back

Been almost eight years
since you slid your fingers
around the neck of my body.
Do you miss me?

While you’ve been gone others
have enjoyed my smooth syrup,
mixing with elixirs, easily swallowed,
using me until night’s end. I don’t mind.

For you, I wait. I sit within my dated
barrel and age—the older the better
they say.

Some enjoy me sweat and sour, or
with sugared cherries—Manhattan please.
Or, perhaps a Sidecar. No matter.
You know me best, naked and neat.

I don’t feel ignored by the absence of
your touch. I know your blood flows thick
without me. Yadi, Yadi, I know you think
about me everyday. Just one more taste.

No-one will know, it can be our secret.

I can hide behind the linens in
your closet; The backseat of your car;
In the bathroom on the airplane—
mile high club?

Is that too much? Go on then, let me age.
I know you like a challenge.
I am everywhere. I’ll be waiting.

A Poem



Ok, my little something life

exists in a hyperbaric chamber

‘Over The Rainbow’ beckons your pure

love, the crazy and the mortifying. Truly it

is gratingly mindedness, unlike passion,

I fill my boat with ice; I cut out the inanimate obsession

but I light a cigarette and wait

for the Quaaludes.

Betty Crocker destroyed Mary’s truth

when traveling to Luxembourgian.


A magnificent cocoon glittering one evening,

connected, hung from the sky, desperate


OK, an hour or more deprived of maturity, a

rag doll is transported and this is

my little something life.

Magic hair is wrapping everything

to sleep

listening to the martyred feel happiness.

A diamond under the water

makes life better, embodies suicide.

My little something life hanged

and blackened in the wind. My

armor continued to erode and unriddle

my existence.

Somewhere time progresses and tracing

the night by travelers.


Mixed optimism I grow faint, prone to

an empty beachfront wishing well.