vino e panini con Michelangelo


sometimes it’s necessary to mess with (reality)

our obsession with logic compels us

to mow our lawns every Sunday –

we’d all paint the grass if we could




blow your mind up

make your mind up

blow your makeup



wine & sandwiches in Rome

London owes you a decade

God’s hand will rest on your shoulder

along the Po di Volano, at rest in Ferrara


First published in Tincture Journal Issue 14, June 2016. -Note that all back issues of the great Tincture Journal are now available for free download at http://tincture-journal.com/buy-a-tincture/

Subsequently published in The Frequency of God, Close-Up Books, December 2017



A semi-found poem based on the OECD Studies on Tourism and the Tourism Experience: The OECD-Korea Workshop[1] taken from the article ‘tis the season for a serving of sheep’s head? posted on dangerous minds[2]


burn away the wool from the head

leave the skin intact & brown

split the head into halves by axe

remove the organs but the eye & tongue

clean, salt, & dry for days

then smoulder on a cold smoke

of juniper, dry oak or alder


having been both salted & smoked

the head could be preserved in an airy place for months


to serve the dish

water & steam the head for three hours

then present with stewed Swedish turnips

& potatoes boiled in the skin

Image ©2014 Thomas Schlich, courtesy of Dangerous Minds

First published in Tincture Journal, November, 2015

[1] OECD Studies on Tourism and the Tourism Experience: The OECD-Korea Workshop, OECD Publishing 2012, ISBN 978-9264171923

[2] http://dangerousminds.net/comments/a_serving_of_sheeps_head


Man Alive, Number 5

Another dream of “normal” life,

the morning takes a knife &

plunges it into a weakened soul,

waits until time sears the pain & then

wraps it in a plastic bag of pregnant desires.


The bingo caller’s lost his voice,

numbers fall to the floor, & are

left to roll around while the players panic,

clutching cards to their chests,

under house/cardiac arrest.


Sleep & the day becomes another,

dread falls like a midnight phone call –

did you remember to leave an

out of body message now you’re a

thousand sighs from home?



maybe you should call home,

to save some embarrassment of absence,

find out if someone’s fed the elephant in the room,

and watered down the dandelion wine,

(be responsible, man). No,


instead you eat a cancer sandwich

& sit on the side of the road

while cars race past

and a voice in your head screams



Published in Tincture Journal #9, February 2015

Published in The Frequency of God, Close-Up Books, December 2017