Author: crow

I'm a writer and a dabbler. I live in Southern California.

fallible memory (20171002)

crow12 Comments

every word from your mouth
is a hammer driving nails into my skull
drive like a truck driver, oil-stained cap
naked chrome women on the mudflaps, 10-4, good buddy
every breath out
the fall of the hammer against a nail
embedding itself in wood
it’s own act of will of volition speaking
squeaking as it crawls into the grain

remember when we were kids
and tried to drive in a nail with a single blow
into wood that was probably meant for
something other than keeping us amused
how many galvanized skewers did we ruin
bending them into right angles

or that time
you chased me across the street with a golf club
blood ran down my face
and mixed with the taste of candy cigarettes
you came for me again with a bat
days after the first stitches came out
the sound in my head was like a hammer
hitting an anvil and those words squeaked
as they crawled into my brain
and they said

parenthood (20171001)

crow18 Comments

kronos signed his name
to the application
turned it in
still attached to the clipboard
though it fit awkwardly
in the inbox

the social worker
looked over the form
he thought how much
this looked like the dmv

–all government offices are the same

she looked up at his mutter
and he coughed, covering his mouth

–this says here
that you’ve been a father
before. can you explain
why you want to adopt?

he looked into the
shadowed corner behind her
in the small office

–hungry

the quick and the perfect (20170930)

crow4 Comments

only the dead are perfect
perfect in silence

you say
oh, so-and-so is at peace
and you are not wrong

but the dead
keep moving
like a handful of
shining white teeth
flung
into a still pond
ghostly white
fading
as
they
descend out of sight
while above
ripples ring
and crest

you measure the
depth of each trough
as it slices through you

the silence of the dead
is the roar of the furnace
only the perfect dead
move without moving

smoking after (20170927)

crow14 Comments

two mantises
on the wall
a darker smaller male
and a larger green female

not sure if i should
put on the barry white records
or if they even need that
or even if it’s the season
for lovin’

i’m sure the female eats
the male later
not because the sex was bad
or because the bastard
just impregnated her for life

the reason for the
post coital cannibalism
is that
he’s not into cuddling after
and he’s not big
on talking

that’s why she goes for the head

incarnations (20170926)

crow7 Comments

i saw death
meandering down
the sidewalk-less
asphalt street
full get up
dark robes
big scythe
aura of gloom
hanging visibly around him
like a cloud
of cheap cigar smoke

his bones clacked
i was in my car
don’t ask me how i know his bones clacked
my windows were rolled up
my stereo was blasting
but they clacked
or clicked
and i thought

who the hell is he here for?

too late
i saw a shadow dart
toward my car
heard the sickening
thump like
driving over a tennis ball
and shuddered

he’s one busy
son-of-a-bitch
if he’s picking up squirrels

sketchy (20170925)

crow16 Comments

let me draw you
my little french girl

i’ll cover you
with a sheet of tracing paper
–not acetate
that’s too true–
that flimsy filmy stuff
we got in math class
and art class
and geography when we traced
the states
so we can trace
the state of things

translucent as they say
letting light pass through
but not transparent
because too much light
is same thing as seeing nothing

First Printing

crow25 Comments

IMG_5996

I like to do things besides write, and I know I’ve posted at least one picture of my sculptures before. I have more, and really intend to add them. But that’s for later.

The above untitled piece is the beginning of my foray into printmaking. I created the original image by combining found sources in Photoshop and then transferring the etching to a plexiglass plate. The first two editions were in black ink, this and a partner piece in red. The entire effort is very process oriented and really requires you to be present. It’s very different from any other endeavor I’ve tried before. And a lot of fun.

transparency (20170923)

crow4 Comments

that kid behind
the deli counter
runs the meat
snick snick
against the whirling
blade
shaving off paper-thin
slices of my feelings
wrapping them in white
paper
–white except for he gets blood on it–
and sells it to me by
the ounce
always rounding up
to the quarter pound

i keep coming back
waiting for the butcher
to run out
but he always has a thick
fat-marbled dome
ready for the machine

i will read
the evening’s news
through transparent sheets
of myself