Since I also write, I thought I might showcase some of my b-side poems here. After all, content is pretty slim, and you gotta cross-fade that cross-promotion, right? So without further ado, here’s an ekphrastic piece entitled “Throats like Tornados.”
Throats like Tornados sprouts of exposed film like lights flicker behind the mind's-moving-eye, whatever summers are gone, I can't find them in sunglasses, held like stuffed bear eight months ago, these flowers grow from Quetzalcoatl conch shell like culture hero, falling cracked sideways on mushroom teachers, so whenever cold mathematicians point punk rock lectures at blooming grapes, it gives me chills, I shriek like wine poured from hidden mouth, spew books too skyscraper logical, whatever hammers of control you throw with language aren't healthy. while civilized man harangues mother nature, I'm just a child watching from the stars.