If you absolutely must say something, drop me a line at

These poems were published in the Metroland on October 3, 2002. They promise their published poets a $25 gift certificate to a local bookstore.

I'm still waiting for mine.



the street today was littered
with multi-colored signs -
cryptic little messages or questions
asking if I've got any butter and
reminding me to clean up after my dog
or attend a bbq (BYOM) Saturday

other times I've wondered about
the signs that say repent now or

and suddenly I find myself distracted
pausing to consider the fact that while
I may be able to read editor's marks fluently
it's not a language I choose to speak
I have my own system
that prevents anyone from even hoping to borrow
one of my soon-to-be-copyrighted editorial suggestions

while I was driving, I saw them too
signs provoking laughter or just
strangely apropos for the moment at hand
in life there are no signs
no easy to read map that says

proceed with caution
these men are killing you
because you love all wrong






In a different and more pissed off place
we'd often get together for late night conversation
that took place over a bottle of booze
or plate of scrambled eggs made
in a not quite sober state of mind
and you would forbid me to set foot in your kitchen again
while I laughed and you would welcome me
again and again into your bed
as I lay there trying to pretend it was anyone else but you
or that maybe we were in some sort of love
the kind that could never in a million years keep a
wannabe rock star
from drinking himself to death and dragging me down with him












if you've never heard the words
"never trust an artist"

i can assure you it's true
writers being
the very worst of the bunch

highly trained in the art
of crafting bullshit or
clever little convincing arguments

it doesn't always
come from the soul

a simple rearrangement of the words
you want to hold so dear

and what you read will easily become
what i really meant to say

while i was hurling
effortless sweet nothings your way

thinking to myself
that while life may
not be a dress rehearsal

there's no reason why
i can't change the scene at will

today i think i'll play
at being in love

Here are a couple others that I found in My Documents! Can't remember if these were submitted to the Metroland or Salvage. Just occurred to me that a prose section might be worthwhile as well, maybe not. We'll see. At any rate, I'm trying to decide if these will be included in my upcoming anthology, Drogen und Philosophie. I named the anthology years and years ago, but the actual content is still very much a work in progress.
Short Story #1 Revised and Condensed

Occurs to me that I haven't written in quite a while, or at least not that I remember. The untitleds are short and sweet (well, these two are anyway. I have lots of untitled poems) and I wrote them a while ago. Like a year ago maybe?
Untitled 1
Untitled 2

The next two (not poems) I wrote for a creative writing class. At the moment I'm inclined to say that they're not all that creative, but they are writing. Both are true, too, as amazing as that sounds.
Dream - the assignment was to describe a dream. Just so happens that I'd had a fairly freaky dream about a week prior!
Short story - "write a piece of prose based on an experience" or some such. When I was 19 I went to New Jersey to meet (in person) a kid I'd met (online). David and I never really spoke again after that. I remember that on the train home some businessmen who'd just closed some fabulous deal bought beer and hotdogs for me. I think they might have been investment bankers. I was just hoping that I wouldn't get off the train with beer-breath! I later tried to make a poem out of this story so that I could submit it to the Metroland.

Hrmph. I don't have any clever narrative to add. This one needs some serious tweaking, then maybe I'll set aside to send away to the Metroland when I have a few others to add to it.