Old Woman

Creased like the spine of your favorite novel- spontaneously taking you back to the moments you found most moving – each line is duly paid for with time. Your skin is the receipt for your experiences, stained from those summer days you stayed in the sun too long. From the knowing smile at the white lies you let your daughter get away with, to the flushed cheeks you hid beneath your hands because your admirer caught you staring; From your lover’s kisses that have now curled your lips the way they used to curl your toes, and the lifetime of worries nested in the brow that weighs on the lids of your eyes. I can trace your stories along each of these lines. Years of pain has burrowed deep in the joints of hands that have as many impressions as you have made on the lives of others. They brush the thinning hair from eyes that have witnessed and weeped for both loss and love. And of all this, I have none. My skin is smooth and lips full. My eyes are bright and hands strong. But I see you and now I know that, if I am lucky, I will one day look like you- mapped with the diary of my history.


A Mental Hard-On


Brain on Brain Sex

Intellectual stimulation is a foreplay often forgotten



to the conclusion

that my attraction to men

many years- decades-my senior,

is a misplaced credit

to their


In fact,

my attraction

has less to do with

a kind of freudian temptation,

but rather I’m drawn to the magic of a mind

swollen with the nectar of intellect

and a wisdom that


from experience.

This has become an attraction

that not just outweighs the typical pull

of the usual superficial attributes, but has the power

to completely void them. A quick wit,

a talent for wonder,

and a wet







The Evolution of Our Decay



How arrogant must one be to think he is exempt from the laws of nature when his very existence is a result of such laws.

Everything in nature is there because it fought like hell to be there and negotiated with its environment for existence in exchange for function. As a part of the natural world humans do not hold an immunity to this fundamental desire to exist, but must recognize that there is no tree without water and no water without oxygen- that our place in this world must have a function that promotes the existence of that which sustains us. Otherwise, we risk being the casualty of a renegotiated environment.

Before the BANG there was ?





1. Expand and contract with strong regular movements

The audacious ‘?’ is the driving force in the expansion of knowledge. It forces us to take a closer look and reexamine all that our lazy minds have accepted without trial. It causes entire systems to be reinterpreted and interrupted, and through the pursuit of the answer often comes more questions. Many times we find ourselves stuck in between question and answer, and have to take a step back to insure we’ve asked the right question before moving forward. And once we’ve finally found the answer, our tiny declarative period will morph into another ‘?’ to be explored.

This is the pulse of Science

and the core of Human Evolution

My fear is that our ego will one day make us feel so superior and removed from this pulse that we will abandon the desire to fuel it. If this happens, then the only evolution left to observe will be that of our own decay.

Gossip Milk


Gossip milk has stained your lips.

Don’t kiss me.

I’m intolerant.

(We can’t pick our family, but we can define our relationships with them. Somewhere we’ve lost the power to establish boundaries in our relationships under the notion that familial titles come with fixed entitlements.)

Gasoline Smoke Screen


You bought me a drink

Wanted to see how far I’d let you go

My song played on the radio

Close the curtains I’m not an early riser


Pass the vodka before you pass out

I now hate my favorite takeout

I only recognize you after midnight

That new bar sucks

I missed your call last night

Your kinda cute in the sunlight


I’m not photogenic

You keep that up and your face will stick

You pour me another cup then we fuck

Whats the name of that one song Turn it up

Just text it

Don’t come up

You complain I’m getting cryptic

You like to fight


I like the make up

Maybe sometime next Tuesday


I hate the way you smell

Not this week next week


You hate that my lipstick stained your pillow

 I haven’t been around

I threw your vintage tee out my window

Slight meltdown

Oh hello

My long hair is gone now

You look the same

Whats your friend’s name