*Photo courtesy of Evangeline Vickery


Dirty pig head up on the road rail.

Placed their by loyal disciples.

You can see it,

grimy, piggy, severed.

In another death, perhaps served upon a platter.

Blank eyes, snout stiff, hairs bristling.

An object of desire.

Bacon crisping in a cast iron skillet.

Fuego, framing ham, tongue clears the yearning lips.

Piggly wiggly bubbles and squeek.

Sausage links, hash hearted haberdashery.

Kitchen succulence whiffed off of my cotton coat, later that day.

Damn, I’m hungry again.

“Stainsy Whippawill”


Photo Origin



“Stainsy Whippawill”


Little Stainsy Whippawill,

sitting on a windowsill.

Who’s spoon to upend next?


Mischievous sprite,

takes delight,

in staining, an unstained breast.


Ketchup, mustard, sauce of soy,

Stainsy’s chaos brings him joy,

but others, much chagrin.


White blouses are often best,

to capture an unctuous oily mess.

Stainsy, leaves quiet an impression.


Despite your care with spaghetti,

Stainsy is always ready,

to Pollockize your favorite suits.


So, beware your feeding  locomotion,

Stainsy’s truest soul devotion,

requires full and clumsy spoons.



“Alpha Male Addict”

“Alpha Male Addict”

Alpha male addict,

riding the train.

Salacious she-sidekick,

fanning the flames.

Sleepy narcoleptics,

speaking in tongues.

The last hit this morning,

wasn’t enough.

Aggressively passive,

threatening poses.

Post nasal drip,

free-basing noses.

Riding the rails,

possessions been sold.

Chasing a hit,

No escaping its hold.

On the way to meet Hades,

these malnourished sticks.

An eternity waiting,

for that overdose fix.

“Homebound Trolley With a Bag of Goodies”

“Homebound Trolley With a Bag of Goodies”

Rushing to get home.

Away from the maddening crowd.

I am the crowd.

Loud, stinking.

Stuttering action.

You have to get on the Trolley, before you get on the Trolley.

Elbows, and crooks, and backpacks, and fumbling awkward.

Stink eyes, bitter beer faces, clandestine farts.

Soy sauce dreams sailing along.

Vinegar fumes from Conversed feet.

Making good on promises.

The Hobbit hole awaits at Bag End, line’s end.