a prayer for Prison Pete

poem

The rain woke me up that morning and I found myself amid the lambs and crosses of the children's section of a cemetery. I grabbed my carefully tied...

a long haiku set I composed during my first and so far only experiment with methamphetamine proper, as opposed to Kerouac's benzendrine or m.p.a., a modified meth chemical that is at this point technically entirely legal in the U.S.A..

Come: fiends, strangers, and friends, excuse some gin-n-tonics, grace the cashmere upholstery of our theatre-seats, and be muse, phantom, and critic...

semi-stumbling advances the sadly drawn torso of the torment saint... The sun is hot and sinking... the air smoky, the soul and the sidewalks droll,...

I've got money, small money, albeit money on my shades, on my shoes... a demon in my brief-case, a burning casino chip on my shoulder and a cause to...

Pass the roach clear the vault fill the script, dexe-dreams approach Scrawl sonic figure 8s on the cave-wall horizon of your interior landscape Soon...

there's a secret life to things, like Ricky said, that inspired slant of light that falls upon the page and burns Apollo's lines out of Atlas's lesser verbiage, the language of shadows,

One repressed morning in the season of crackling leaves, there came to the cloistered city: 'a mad wind' It summoned the devil's horn-section and...