Steel Stetson

Though his beard hangs long with frost
his memory has remained true.
He may remember what is lost
but he won't tell you 'till it's due.
"Good luck with that"
the man with the steel stetson hacked.
His cold blue eyes
belong to his huskies
but his anger
belongs to me.

A Series of Small Roadtrip Poems

Father you made me leave
mother you made me follow.
As a generation we are one
to your basements we do flock.



Farmers burn the land
as we burn dinosaurs.
Rolling along the network of scars
that cover our promises.



A quaint little farmhouse
in the middle of nowhere.
Strings hold our minds together
occam's razor has to fall.


Would you be able to
fit your whole life and
all the things you bought into a metal box
being towed by another metal box?

Social Circles

Two social circles
meeting in a jumble
of egos, identities and gender.
Never knowing
who's touched nerve
or who thinks they're batman
or even bathroom man.

The Bloodkin

Shed the bloodkin
as quickly as they came.
For though you shall both burn bright
one shall feed off the other's light
and the other shall only last halfway
through this long hot summers night.

Tie the bloodknots off.
Stop the circulation.
Reach in your viens and find your strength
Rip it out so you can feed.
There is no truth you can bleed.