Then I Vanished

I dealt with the loss

by taking to the forest


finding myself lost

and far away from home,

I bedded down

to sleep


Surrounded by trees

and the smell of earth

I clawed at the ground for a couple of years


then I vanished

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Near Forty Years a Punk

a  grey hand

dropping the needle on

45’s from ‘77


the tyrant is rising

political science voodoo

like then

I yield to airborne bricks

and flaming bottles


knuckle deep

in anxiety

a witness to

sticks replaced by guns



in an adolescent oblivion

with sufficient momentum

to go nowhere

even now as an old man


so poetic

just not enough for me


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a nightmare

in God’s dreamland


the tangled madness

of what is

and what

cannot be seen


a frightfulness

between human

and monster

burns in the coals

of lightning

struck trees

and a pungent smell

amongst the pines


This poem is about mental illness and the imagery of the Sasquatch

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Driven deep into the wilderness by ceaseless brutality 

To become the only human on earth
living among the creatures exiled by man
it is far better to be carried away 
to be devoured by an eagle
than to be torn apart by wolves 

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reservation dream

impoverished reservation dream

imagery drawn on a painful wasteland

dark shades of bleed through agony

a backdrop of tearful grey


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Filed under American West, Outlaw poetry, poetry

No Future for the Woman

behind the dumpster

no memories or regrets–

all trouble


tethered to the earth

expelled from the water



through thin fabric

rough fingers

unable to run away.


no future for the woman

no past for the man





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So Little

Our words

hold so little



a long time ago

I was a dream

one with the land


never taught

to listen

to the voices,

now the scary spirits

have taken them away


in the end

they appeared like us

with little to say,

to even their own children


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