Thoughts Disguised as Poetry, and a Side of Satire

Clown Town Slipping down a flight of stairs, but never hitting the ground; my heels itch and my calves ache the brain shakes as the ground quakes. Praying to a plastic god, shrouded in orange and corn husks and country clubs counter cologne’s musk. Fields of fire in my backyard, but those fields are that…

The End is the Beginning, is the Beginning is the End

Well folks, I managed to focus too heavily on the image that sat before me. Fairly soon the pictured made way to paint, the paint to the canvas, the canvas to the fiber, the fiber to the holes in the weave of it all, and before I knew it, I was staring at nothing; lost sight of it all. But how befitting that the end should become the beginning, like a Phoenix being born again from its own pile of ashes. There are no lines in this world that are not merely the result of your eyes and mind playing tricks on you.