Voodoo On Less Than $1,000 A Month

What if I wrote a real blog, not this creature hovering in the air, acting like a blog.  What is Tin Hats anyway?  My blog title would be “Voodoo on Less Than $1,000 a Month”.  It might go like this: Sorry I haven’t posted in a while.  Things have been pretty crazy around here.  My […]

Something Something Heartache

Y’know babe, sometimesI feel like I got a story to tell,but I was born with my lips sealedand my hands tied andmy face behind a veil. D’you ever feel that way sometimes?Let me see your hands,are they sliced up like mine? Tied by the tender wrists to a zip line-yeah the cord is long, it’s […]

Returning to the Pits of Meaningless Despair

“Expect some turbulence,” the pilot announced as the plane drifted over the snow topped peaks and began to glide through the canyon.  On her lap she held a copy of the SF Chronicle.  A man and woman, only in their twenties, had been attacked by an intruder to their rooftop flat.  Both were bound and […]

Why Did This Have To Happen To You?

My words look like half-burnt cake candles tossed into the alley, the cats ready to lick the bit of frosting, but the rain begins and takes the space, flattening ears and closing doors Not a great beginning for a poem about suffering and despair, although the cats might have something to say, how they were […]

Carol And The Un-Texan

Carol is dead and so are both Emmas and Renee too.  I don’t write about the two Emmas or Renee much anymore.  I used to when I could see them clearly, hear them, smell them, but now only Carol comes to me along the streets of Austin.  The others are only ill-formed lumps in my […]

Ingmar Bergman’s Old Weiner

Cuttings from Duke Miller’s Epic Poem “Ingmar Bergman’s Old Weiner” Dear Jan, of course, I agree to be your developmental editor and as such I have a few preliminary comments on the text you sent via the white sheets of bay fog that moved through the city last year Please take my critique with an […]

The End Of Everything

The 19th century goes like this … He asks, why are you smiling She says, I’m not smiling Waiting, waiting … and the silence is more than misunderstanding … it’s lies upon lie, an expensive weaving for the rich, a paper flower for the poor   Noise levels rise in the 20th century with two […]

A peach, a song

Given to the rhythm of forgivenesswhen the blade hits andthey say that there was no way to predict this.If I was living in your armsone could say you delivered death’s kiss butin the end it’s all on me I held myself with limp wrists. Given to the nature of distortionin the cold pits,they say a […]