First Drafts: Coffee

…I picture it as a burnt coffee smell. The grounds smoldering in the pot, the water evaporated and all that’s left is the heat of the stove, smoke, and the stink of melting copper wire. It isn’t an unpleasant smell, something foreign and overpowering. As I pad sockless across the cold tile, I try remembering […]

First Drafts: Last Morning in L.A.

A gun shot at 5:30 AM is like A distant thunder clap near The shore of a fog muffled Ocean. The squeal of tires Is louder than the blast. There are no screams, no Pleading for a life, or big Shallow tears washing down Cheeks, smudging mascara. At least not before the Television cameras show […]

Frist Drafts: Scum

The green scum of the pool Is at least an inch thick. Crisp Brown Fall leaves and rotting Grass clippings cling to the Brine, becoming a part of the Filth. But for some reason, the Water still stinks of chorine. All Stoners are the same, they keep You trapped and waiting in their Drifting flat […]

Productivity

I’ve been thinking a lot about productivity as of late and what it means to be a writer. I know, that’s original as hell, right? A writer who thinks about writing. But what aspect of it I’ve been thinking about the most is the act of not writing. J. David Osborne wrote an article for […]

First Drafts: July 4, 2017

The Arizona night growls, Cicadas perched on the blistered Leaves of near bare summer Tree branches, their Thousands of throats an Aggressive hum competing against Man-made thunder. The air hangs Greasy with charcoal, cordite, And the tang of scorched hair and Burnt skin. There’s a moment of complete Silence just as an M-80 sucks in […]

Monday Morning Bullet Points

It’s Monday, here are some stray early morning thoughts. Comic con looked fun from what I saw of it, albeit this is the first year in awhile that I didn’t care what was happening in San Diego. Don’t get all pissy about me not caring about your pop culture. It’s awesome that you’re excited and […]

First Drafts: Desert

You curse the desert Or maybe it does the same To you. It curses you with A lifetime of its arid, rolling Yellow sand pushed down Into your seizing lungs Plunging down your throat In gulping, acrid breathes. You curse the desert and its Wife the sun. You curse it Because its invaded your blood, […]