The Smell of Gunpowder

My old man wasn’t

stupid. He just thought

everything sounded like rain. Anything that didn’t sound

like rain, he thought

smelled like gunpowder. Of

course nobody understood these oddities,

hence the stupid

label. Some people act dumb

when they’re drunk, but are smart when

they’re sober. Other people are smart

when they’re drunk, but dumb as a lump when

they’re sober. Not my old

man though, he was just the same

whether liquored up or

not. My mom just ignored him. I

think maybe she tried to poison him once

and just screwed him up

instead of killing him. Everything she

cooks just sounds like rain so she

really has nothing to complain about.

His condition has provided us with multiple

sources of income, so

we get by quite comfortably. My

old man talks to me sometimes.

He says he loves the sound

of rain, and the

smell of gunpowder. Then

he gives me a hug and all I

hear is a chainsaw.

Flowers & Graffitti

Apple Cider

This was published a while back in Nomad Magazine

We Are Not Without

Before I forget, it is not without.

Because without would mean; that all

reason and insight, sin and morals

are not, have not and will never. No

matter the absent’s form or function

the feeling of without is yet within.

And if we are left to grope in minimilistic

shadows, or to muddle through tomes

of paradoxical musings, or even to barrel

brashly through the streets of the

Vatican with whores in our beds and

heroin in our veins, we are not yet without.

Sky

Reverbnation Page

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Listen to your favorite Stick Dog Walker jams here!!

Anthrax In the Garden

Bore me to death with your lyrical prose.

Murder ain’t the answer when you

question my opinion. Upside down the

battle cry we march around the temple.

Bearing bombs of frankincense with anthrax

in the garden. Digging holes with broken

spades. Lift-off left without a hitch while

Barney Miller scratched his eczematous

scalp. A little girl let me die with leather pants

and blackened lips. Eat the Bette Davis stew,

with onion rings, brokeback pie and paranoia

salad; with a copper spoon and a pocket

knife. Everlast the liquid state, the melting sun

in boiling glass, the six-string catatonic scale,

the crimson bleeding flower.