Daily Archives: November 18, 2020


Under the skull’s top and
buried in the wet jelly
is where I live in the reptile neighborhood.

I lie on a flat rock
and imagine the sun is piercing
all the way through to warm me enough

to strike back
at the pain and danger
all around me.

Then you say it’s the jelly
that’s making all the horror
real, and that I’m as much

the jelly as the reptile raging
within it. I am unsure — it feels
more and more that I am living

somewhere else, not in the body
or the brain. That I only inhabit them
as needed and my true home is elsewhere.

I am unsure if I have ever been the reptile
now that I consider it — it is possible
all I know about myself

is an overlay of myths upon mystery.
I only know I am scared tonight, my teeth
on edge, slightly bared, waiting to tear free.


some days I mourn and loathe
existence more than others

but never more so than when
people argue over fonts

in this world any argument
for meaning over appearance is a loser

I do understand how one
may amplify the other of course

I am not a total fool
for dismissal but

hold the opinion
that there’s something wrong here

that sings
like Nero’s fiddle

but I apparently can’t put my finger on it
in this font