Road Rash
A poem about not biting your tongue
Poetry
Burnt Orange Morning
Under another burnt orange morning, my mourning, I eat the steam venting from manhole covers on a journey down alleys wishing with the worthy, passing judgment on underground gurneys
Jimi Hendrix (Monterey Pop Festival, 1967)
In response to Dorianne Laux's Mick Jagger (World Tour, 2008)
He plays for crowd after sold-out crowd, strumming his fluid fingers.
I Wear Mick Jagger's Lips for Socks
I'd run out of juice with a single muse. My gray matter's juxtaposed, sweating after eating habanero peppers, freezing from serving revenge cold with Robert DeNiro and Al Pacino.