Poem for the eclipse

Think of an eclipse

The sun is a white star our atmosphere makes yellow.
So many children using the wrong crayon.
So many refrigerators decorated with lies,
and magnets from Utah,
above that straight horizon line,
everything a smiley face.

You’re gonna need a better poet.
I’m gonna need another Corona.
This is not the time to get spiritual
about potential blindness.
Think of an eclipse
as a bullet being loaded
into a chamber of light.

More prayers get muttered in the dark.
But every darkness is temporary
except the last one,
in which no prayer can exist.

If the sun wore sunglasses,
the sunglasses would melt.
It’s easy to squint yourself into a headache,
or a kaleidoscope of retinal scars.
To me, the sky is the ocean,
as to a fish, the ocean is the sky.
The sun is the aquarium bulb,
a stranger set on a timer.

Think of an eclipse
as Death putting his eye
up to the microscope.
You may wonder about the skeletal moon,
or why car exhaust smells good
in the cold, but these are just tricks
shadows play on the mind.

originally published in Rat’s Ass Review

Books, books, books!!!

This has been a busy several days for me. I have worked to publish all of my unpublished poetry manuscripts, in a last ditch effort to purge my portfolio and help me move past the desire to publish this old work, in the hope it will inspire me to get creating new work, maybe even finish my novel or write a new novel. So, below, you will find links to the now published poetry collections. I may put out a couple more in the coming weeks or days, but these are the main ones I have been working on the past eight years or so.





Eulogy / Elegy
ghosts of silence


fukushima franco

Another Standing Rock poem, reposted


How beautiful must the world be
to make me stop and notice
I am a narcissist?
I’m so far away from the plains,
the rolling weeds and sagebrush,
dirt-dry plateaus cracked like ancient faces.
I’m so far away from open fields
stretched equidistant to every inch
of the empty and aubergine horizon;
the sky seems endless as a child’s imagination,
white puffy clouds like floating castles
turning purple and gray along the dust bowl rim,
with rain shaft ropes tethering those
mountainous zeppelins to the Earth.

How beautiful must the world be
to make me care about the future
my children will live to see?
Some hold onto hope like eagle feathers
in their hands, have seen the stars
through a portal of smoke
cloaked in a buffalo’s hide.
They have stood for centuries
at the edge of a graveyard,
watching the white man dig more holes.

How beautiful must the world be
to make me want to live here
inside its nebular womb?
With every breath, the timeline of existence
shrinks backward one step.
In my heart, I could wear a headdress,
I could smell the burnt leaves
wafting like spirits around my skull,
like voices turned to ashes
swirling and sticking to my tongue.
I could sing songs around the fire
in a language I never learned.

How beautiful must the world be
that I shut off these engines of dinosaur teeth,
that I throw my hardhat to the ground
and climb down from my mechanical cage,
that I brush the crushed grit from my jeans
and embrace the joyful tears
streaming down my face
with so many arms around me,
welcoming me home like a long lost son,
turning to stand in line
against something as intangible as time?

How beautiful must the world be
that I admit I’ve always been wrong
about everything I’ve ever believed?
This world must be beautiful,
with its birds, its light-flickered murmurations,
its ponds with surfaces kissed
by hungry fish mouths catching flies.
It’s a beauty that never asks to be observed,
and that is just what makes it
so irreplaceable.

Thanks to New Verse News and James Penha for originally publishing this poem. You can find it here.

New writing update:

Happy so share some new writing news. I have some new work appearing at Uut Poetry this week. My poem “The proof is in the pudding, Twitter poem #3” went up a few days ago. Check it out. My thanks to the editor.


Also, this week, I was honored to be part of the memorial issue of Unlikely Stories for Michelle Greenblatt. I wrote a poem specifically in her honor, and they included two other pieces of mine in the issue. Thanks to Jonathan Penton for allowing me to contribute to this. Michelle was a wonderful human being.


The second issue of Crow Hollow 19 debuted last week, including the brutally honest work of 14 talented poets. Take a read and let them know if their words moved you.


crow face

“What war is good for” published with TruthDig!

My heartfelt thanks to the folks over at TruthDig for sharing a poem of mine today. The poem “What war is good for,” a piece about America’s unending dedication to death, is now live on their site. You can also listen to me read it. I appreciate every person who takes any of their time to read and share or comment. Cheers, and have a good holiday.

War, huh, yeah, what is it good for?

Two exciting updates:

A couple of exciting things to report. First, my poem “Live Man Dead Man,” a response to the Maya Angelou poem “Caged Bird,” is in issue #3 of EXPOUND Magazine. You can read the entire issue here. Many thanks to the editors for letting me be a part of this issue, which features a ton of stellar work.

Second, I just found out that my poem “The Artist” was featured this past week on Verse Daily for their Weekly Web Feature. This poem originally appeared in FRiGG. I was ecstatic to see my work featured there, so thanks to Verse Daily for that wonderful surprise, and thanks again to the editors of FRiGG, Ellen Parker and Dennis Mahagin, without whom that would not have been possible.

Thanks for sticking around.

Featured poet in September CALLIOPE

The September issue of CALLIOPE Magazine has just been released. I am in there as the featured poet, with eight of my poems included. Thanks again to Robert Olson for this opportunity. I would ask anyone who thinks that all my work is filled with some form of hatred (an accusation that honestly makes zero sense whatsoever) to please read the work presented here and find something to be offended by. There are several familiar faces in this issue, including Heath Brougher and Barrett Morrison. Do check it out and thank you for being a friend to poetry, something that has to continue to prove its relevance to the world.


NEW chapbook released and a new venture undertaken:

This week I released my second chapbook of poetry. It’s called Confessions of a Porn Addict. It’s 30 pages of poems dealing with desire, guilt, and human relationships. This collection was initially accepted by another press, but was withdrawn due to a misunderstanding with the contracts. I could not find another publisher to take it, so it becomes the second Crow Hollow Books title. I’m proud of this book and especially love the cover art, generously supplied by Martin de Pasquale.

Since I decided to go this route, I went ahead and plunged head first into another idea I’ve been weighing the pros and cons of for a while now. I got a domain and started the groundwork for Crow Hollow Books to begin publishing other writers. It seems I am capable of making decent books, using Amazon and SPD, and so why not help other writers get work out into the world? I’m also starting a quarterly journal, called Crow Hollow 19. Every quarter I will publish 19 works of bone-splitting poetry, poetry with such honesty it blisters the eyes. Submissions for the quarterly journal open August 1st. Since the theme of the journal revolves around Crows, each issue will be called a Murder. I hope to have a reading period for chapbooks in October. Stay tuned. This train is just getting rolling.


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