When the gods returned, government pretended to be afraid. One ballot replaced another. Transcendence among reptilians voted authority, under the influence. Terrorists at Homeland Security kept shopping.

If Mother Nature be my mother, I say I wish myself to have been immaculate—no mother like that for me! I say she is an enemy, not a mother. I say it is she who cast the first stone—the first among many!

In line and prose the poems blunt with humor and cynicism, in this dance that’s like having sex with someone new, or listening to anecdotes about your mom’s love life: it makes you uncomfortable at times, but you come back, it itches...

And so
some dreams will merely be delayed a year,
some dreams will be realized ahead of schedule,
some dreams will be deferred, perhaps permanently,

I play the fox with Mad King George
with thrice sent hells to damn the gorge
with bottle rockets crotched inside
that one-man-show you all mile-highed

“I can’t be a lovelorn ghost,” said Diane, musing aloud, “One of those forlorn, romantic yearners. I don’t think anyone really loved me, and though I was often obsessed, desperate, and too willing to debase myself, I’m not sure I ever truly loved any man.”

I paint my shoes
a new color
every time the town
​burns down

Compulsory education continues
nonstop, over eons, at the heart
of the genome. Failure is not
an option, but a resounding
​scarcity of incidence and resilience.

                          they gowned only ink &
ink haunts their hands yet, never so tremulous &
literary as when cherubs're
                                     smeared between'm,
                                     & you, too-

Billy Luck’s bones rearranged themselves on the bus headed out of Gibsonton for the Tampa train station. He looked out the window, away from his trailer, all rusted, awnin torn, bricks holdin down tarp over a portion of the roof, lookin like other junkyard leftovers from his carnival days.

Oceans boiling up bubbling disintegrating into 
Large lakes of nucleic lava
​Swathes of humanity displaced into oblivion 

You tell yourself that you’re not fragile, or if you are, you’re fragile like a bomb, because you hear the timer ticking inside you, clicking like teeth, the cadence a little too precise and insistent...