eee boo👻love of the monster👹ebook soon🤗so very excited!!!

hope you’re all managing okay within your personal universe and this big beautiful sometimes very bad world of ours

I’ve been offline quite a bit, severely cutting back on social media in a huge effort to create new work I can attempt to submit for publication
(most online journals and magazines will not take blog pieces as these are considered previously published works)
I’m sorry I haven’t been posting here more regularly, I do miss WP
and I apologize for not returning comments quickly

this getting rejected stuff is quite depressing and mind-numbing sometimes
but I guess one must continue to fight the good fight
or better still, work toward creating a seminal piece of work
I’m not nearly there, not by a long shot

I do thank you for stopping by from time to time
and I’m so very excited for the ebook version of, love of the monster, to be out this November!
I’ll be pulling the plug on the print version about the same time and must kick a family member out of the house to make room for cartons of books 😊
am:)

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leftover sensations (new flash piece)

LEFTOVER SENSATIONSLove writing flash fiction, especially monster-themed. I let loose a bit more when invoking character voices. Hope you enjoy, leftover sensations, as much as I enjoyed writing it 😘
As the writing gods sometimes align themselves, my dear, faraway writing friend, DS Levy also in this issue with a masterful short, Pit Viper.
adore this cover art by Aisha Ali!

latent images

You press my eyelashes to my face, so I can sleep
You understand how latent images frighten me
Linger-ers of things no longer here
Specters of visions previously forgotten
My REM world has no room for ghosts,
when my daily world explodes with spiriting insanity
The floating muses who once fed me fire are burning away my soul
Half the time, I want to die
The other half, I need you
You hum my favorite song to me, even though you think a tune from,
Mr. Magoo’s: A Christmas Carol, is ridiculous
“…millions of grains of sand on the shore, why such a lonely beach…”
Taunting demons keep the headless roosters raving in my head
I badly need your sweet notes, like cotton clouds, to muffle these assaults

There is an empty slope on your side of the mattress
I smell your assuring body in the pillows–
beautiful lips in the sheets
Your undisturbed water glass has collected my tears
Singing silence, is a sound worse than death
Death, is a sound the earth hums when her children return home
I’ve sliced off my eyelashes
Shoved broken toothpicks against my sockets
Stare at the television without blinking
Click the remote
Latent creatures slither into my eyes
Crawl up the sides of my brain–
rip at the cracks of my skull
They whisper horrid things to the better part of me
I will dance with demons
I will romance angels
I will scream at the Holy Spirit
I will allow all manner of vindictive specter–
every hellacious image of the night to dwell within my soul
I will not desist until you rest beside me again
I am not supposed to be here without you

do you (think you) know me

do you (think you) know me
inside my words
on top of my art
are your elbows leaning at your side(s) as you read along
do they comfort you
your elbows, not my word(s)
not my art
maybe you’re only getting to know me
if you don’t know me, (I dislike math)
these thing(s) xx2f (art+writing) are no source of comfort
rather(!) representational of all I don’t know

I do know–if we lived closer
we might be (great) friends

I am told I smile most of the time

when I write dark(ly)
or when I write in darkness
(lights are sleeping. I’m not)
I grin
unintentionally
like mad grimacing
once long long ago in a generous glass grocery store window of epic proportions I spied my reflection she was smiling. I wasn’t happy

I want you to be comfortable
inside my words
on top of my art
with your elbows at your side(s)
and tell me something
about yourself
I might even get to know what it is I don’t know
about myself

PS (person singing)
when we meet on that special day
in that secret place (where I wait for you)
we will smile at one another
I stop looking in a generous glass grocery store window of epic proportions to see another smiling face
my personal shopper

I can no longer wait for you

I’m still waiting for you
I think I’ve always been
no
I know I’ve always been
forty years past
scanning the stars glued inside my baseball cap
before each at bat, desperate not to strike out
thirty years ago
face first, hair second, brain third
hoping you’ll notice me
twenty year flashback there I am running
six miles alongside the busiest roads
why don’t you pullover and take me away
fifteen years ago
off those roads striving for inroads
sending, sending, sending
out my door, into yours
hoping something manages the mail slot
ten years recent past
what a tease
you were never really interested
I wasn’t even close was I
today
I can wait no longer wait for you
all my past tactics have failed
there is no one to find me
you were never there

I must turnaround
I must stop dreaming
no fantasy fingers will tie my work to a star
with a glittering red bow

I must float on my own
or
I will fall flat and be trampled upon
by more creative beasts
Taurean Bull
my little monster love book must now be sold and I must sell it.
“…I could burn with the splendor of the brightest fire or else I could choose time…” –Lament from Evita

well, this is just freakin’ amazing

well, this is just freakin’ amazing
apparently my little book
has gone “temp out of stock”
on both Amazon and B&N
why I’d love to believe it’s selling out like Harry Potter😉
the reality probably is
because it’s a self-pub title
they don’t take it very seriously
and don’t order that many copies initially
geez
it is still available on my book’s site
loveofthemonster.com
but most folks
are going to Amazon or B&N to buy
darn this selling stuff
I’m going to start peddling door to door
so if you hear someone crying
in your hedgerow
late in the afternoon
it will most likely be me
cover-image-jpeg

this holiday let monsters be of fantasy only

crouching behind windshields
squatting behind screens
societal svengalis lurk
unruly wild things pacing clear enclosures
bitter birds choosing not to fly
limitations evaporate
when powered on by false gods
emotional anchors become
looming weights of entitlement
hands grip wheels
steering by fabricated courage

verbal appetites satiated by barbs
served beneath craving fingertips

manipulation expands
a
cracked sea sponge tossed into a violent whirlpool
bytes of malice more sour than sun-baked wine
flow over rims of digital goblets
what happens to some
what happens to us

communicating without the skin of our souls
the flesh of our humility
the forbearance of our hearts
what will become of us
when traveling forward
without
the divinity of pure movement
and humble earth beneath our feet

as this holiday season fast approaches
may we remember
humanity dwells inside
each and every one of us
let monsters be made of fantasy only

Holidragon

Holidragon

inspired this weekend while returning my daughter to college-many crazed people driving the highways-
many crazed drivers on cell phones rushing to cybershop