God is a Mirrorball

God is a mirrorball;
see yourself in his gaze.
His name reflected on your forehead.
It pleases him to invite you in
through fog machine clouds
to the rainbow dome, his throne,

Poetry Thrives

My poetry pays rent in a pop-up tent
under a busy overpass,
growing like marram grass by a brackish sea.
It dwells in the mosaic empty spaces left behind
by winter’s nudist trees.

Trash Truth

Black bags triple tieda mountainside of mistakesstretch-marked sidespuddles of toxic probitypoked free from last night’s leaksrot smell lingers for weekssomeone’s … More