Love is a jerk,
a cruel-hearted beast

with an oily grin
and a cigarette.

I couldn’t tell what Ma was cooking,
nor growing in her flower garden,

but sweet and spicy scents told me
that it was something good.

Neither do I know where Carrie
comes from with extraordinary

aromas exuding from her I would
bottle if I could.

Jern wanted to see the heart
I’d locked inside a drawer.

I fished in all my pockets
but couldn’t talk to Jern anymore.

You never croak, but you roar like a frog.
You bark an extended note, though you never howl.

You write her love songs, drunk on ale.
Buzzed on tea, I ink the sound down.

‘S’alright. My pen’s as neutered
as I always said it was.

And my love’s as strong as you strike
those chords

over, and over, and over again. Sway side to side.

I see the curves that your hips don’t make, man,Read More »

Ana-Bri,
Brawnasaur,
Brianasaurus rex

Loved me though
all the world
could see was my life’s mess.

Briana, the
open one
let me hold her soul,Read More »