Night Message from Daddy


That pale moonlight

at about a month ago

how bad the food tasted

Daddy thought the young side was chirping

The young side didn’t chirp

Great, at seventeen…

the young side didn’t count

Is there anything?

Not having a will,

I didn’t raise your son

I didn’t tell him to just confirm the good in you

There was a mason jar

Finding it, I cried


Experience Life

Having free bodies,

we never realize what we lost

It’s amazing how the time flies

Frank was a personable guy

He flunked law school,
but he liked to play
He got killed in high school

They listed him as MIA

Anywhere you lay your head

is home

I’ll always be there…

watching over you.

Good night

Missing Persons

This, Cassie had known, ever since she
Cassie, my nephew, a driver in a small van
had wounded
seemed very apoplectic
the life of me
deep tissue scarring
my world
her limbs crushed beneath

[I find myself crying, feeling a very empathetic, deep sadness]
press a button
release the hatch
arrived in pain
Bobby was still throwing a
like a giant pistol
assault rifle
no ones knows where the bodies are
by the side of the lake
a gorge
a pistol
crying in despair
I sat there
watched him pull the trigger
cold, green grass
a river spotter
thought it was a hoax
drowned in despair
I took a watch
It keeps on ticking
turning point
the words
the dead
can’t speak
the records
will show this
none the less
cut open the bag
the keys are in the trunk
brute force
the facts remain
I’m cold
a sad time of year
making a living by the stream
these notes
do not indicate the past
From a vantage point however
the fish swim
grasping curdles in their mouth
like straw
sipping at Coke
Please don’t make me
come back and spoil it for you
a bronze star on my bed
morphine in the shack
squirrels in the rafters
were obtained for medicinal purposes
The bodies don’t disparage
[An automated sales call comes in on my cell phone, from Fox Lake, Illinois. My left ankle hurts]
Get up

Planes, Helicopters and Daddy

“In a room where
people unanimously maintain
a conspiracy of silence,
one word of truth
sounds like a pistol shot.”

Czesław Miłosz

Falling asleep, I ponder the mysteries of life.

Sometimes the answers that give life are simple.

Sometimes they are complex.

Therefore, I don’t think answers are dependent upon any predetermined formula, but honesty or lack thereof, of the persons involved.

As I awake in the morning, I slowly become aware I’m still silently conversing with Dad, the characteristic cadence of his voice (speak and pause, speak and pause) not just apparent, but emphasized in this semi-dream-like state.

I can feel his presence, with my mind.

But it’s as if my father’s pauses are now purposely lengthened and multiplied,  to give me time to write everything down.


Another colleague of mine

caught me off guard

when he said

the (puss?) (!) is in the pudding

It’s different with men

We won’t regret later

who gathered up roses

where did you get those

basking in the sun

of personal indifference

After the sun

comes the soul

Flying on a plane

who does know pain?

speed is everything

(fast internet logo?)

how did the bullet

get here so quickly

caught up in different events

looking back on the remarks I’ve made

any well trips

well spent

Can it go fast enough

Flew in by helicopter

to the post

Let me outa here

said the watchman

drinking whiskey

like a shot in the dark

Child abuse is real

its after effects remain forever

unless GOD takes them away

like a man on a plane

Simple recipes do not taste right

to the abusers

See how they run

Indifference is the miter’s

(tall headdress worn by a bishop)


like whole villages swallowed up

in the rain

It’s victim, the forfeiter

My Sweet Lord told me

I cannot be without you

HE is in me

I was drinking black and white water

they gave me, so as not to get caught

I cried

They held a gun to my head

My father would rather be better off dead

than kill me by destruction

The mass is in tatters

Its remnants remain

like shattered victims

on the floor

Open the door

and let them out of My house

where (and when) they are being


I will see and feed them

in the hills

(Oh, my Sweet Jesus, how I love you!)

make amends with the sinners

after they have fallen from My Grace,

and give them drink

from Celestial waters

It’s important you understand the plan

(not yours, not mine)

As it was in the beginning

Is now

And ever shall be

The plan of My Father

In Heaven

For random valleys

hurt the meadows

that they grow in

and towns and cities

cannot be built on ice

Flowers grow (and blossom)

where they are planted

The shores will eat them up

if left alone

The mountains are high

close to My Heart

Wild and Free

Like the back of my hand

Which would not harm

Its servants


Your hour is here


My Father Speaks

This is the house where my untreated delusional mother was isolating herself in medical neglect, occasionally found wandering through the woods.

When I posted up no hunting signs on my mother’s property, Marshall made vague threats to cause bodily injury to me, the remaining nondelusional current inhabitant of this home. 

Marshall also sent pizza to my mother’s address a few months ago (around the time her lean was bought I believe) instructing the delivery boy to insist her house was “his” house.  I asked Dad about this in my mind, like a prayer.

I don’t know what that was

that was offensive

that ain’t right

no, she wasn’t supposed to be sleeping

Roseanne was supposed to be sleeping


cyber crimes division

I mean what the hell

Gary Indiana

San Diego


it’s secret


what you’ve done for me

Fort Knox


What my Father Whispered in my Ear

they’re talking about me all the time now

we’re working our way

we don’t even have a house


they passed away

they passed away

they (past) away

last night at three o’clock

in the morning (mourning?)

[*3:00 is in Brazil on the Military Mass clock I found that belonged to my father he used in the war, plus around the time yesterday I was laying on his grave crying and praying to God for him, that his voice would be heard]



he then raped me

he shot him in the head

he blamed the gun man



he killed the case

so he could now



In the Most Holy Names of Jesus and Mary may the people who did this to my father and his family get justice served, no more, no less.


One More from Dad



it relates within the business

of saving souls

it feels so good

everything imploded

it all makes sense

the closest one I can get to

is the one for me

and I think that I’m the proof

give him a peasant salary

and a liquid diet

because he won’t be eating bricks

no more

that’s exactly what he’s going to do


refuse(d?) to come in

they can’t pull him out of a hole

the adjuster

foreign currency

spanish croissants

boys will be boys

hot air balloons

no sir charge (Searge?)

they’re talking about me

all the time now

we’re working our way

we don’t even have a house


they passed away

they passed away

at three o’clock in the morning

(3:00 is Brazil on the military mass clock and around the time early this morning I started posting my father’s words.)


Sunday Edition Criminal Chase

Remember down at Shady Acres

Where the grass was over grown

Ring Ring Ring went the sound

Of a rotary dial

It’s your Daddy on the phone

I asked you to take care of them

My children and my wife

You ate instead the bread I gave them

Took my very life

Little Nate he understands

He’s doing very well

Though he bears the marks your sins have given

In the blood in which he fell

The incorrectly ordered man

Is deadly to himself

And my daughter writes in place of me

That book upon a shelf