poetry

a way out

Gutter girls laughing
Calking
Big teeth showing
Swollen gums bursting
Eyes scanning
Looking for boys to kiss
Broken windows proofing in light snow
Would look beautiful
If it was a movie
If it was a stage show

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short stories

home again

I believe when people donít have much, they welcome nice things. No, no, Iím not referring to a hot car or a flashy watch, itís more that one wants to come home to a nice house, clean clothes, enough food, and not just the bottom shelf food at that. I’m about to write about my coming home. While reading this, don’t think that my intentions are to come off as “punk” or

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travel diaries

Duct tape, a whip, handcuffs, a box of protection, a bit of whiskey, lighter fluid & Claire

I love these damn truck stops. I walk in “Sack’s Last Stop” with the same calm feeling one has when they stride into their favorite friend-filled drinking hole. All the boys are lined up for the

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lyrics

can't be caught

Home town, Hamilton, quiet place, wanna leave
Good friends, good times, my old car, Singing Beach
Camp site, river, woods, swilly nights, caught police
Can't leave, can't change, can't stop, another week
Gotta stay—I gotta stay right here and now

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screenplays

sorted out

FADE OUT INT. BIG D'S KITCHEN - DAY BIG D SITS at the kitchen table reading some pages, poorly bound together in a run of the mill 99 cent Walmart binder. Different BOOKS, COMICS and LOOSE PAPER scatter the table. BIG D's a big reader. IN FRONT of him is a BOWL OF CEREAL (COCOPUFFS), CUP OF COFFEE, a JOKEY SMURF SHOT GLASS and one

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novels

coming soon

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