Voices That Speak of Dread

I WALK WITH VOICES THAT SPEAK OF DREAD   I walk with voices that speak of dread Surviving death blows inside my head All the while my feet are beckoning…   Stu… stut…stuttering aimlessly Splitting tongues with knives Reeking of poison confirming my lies   I make a sign of the cross and pray for…

Voices of Littlefield: The Farmer’s Market

It’s as if Christ took a shot and karma and missed. But since it was Christ the judge said case dismissed and then turned to me and said, “I’ll say a prayer for you.”   Big, old and stiff bodied gatherers of dust and seasons of weeds, the stalks of farmers grumbling among the cantaloupes,…

We Had Issues

She pretends to see me but when she hears me I see anxiety in her skin   Does my impression hurt me the more times you say that I am a Being for the wrong reasons?   She asks her reflection: Is your Being important enough to see it rather than as something else if…

Mother, Daughter, Husband

Wife: This isn’t the first time you’ve raised the question And just like the last time I let it be or to put it more succinctly I rearranged by inflection the possibilities I thought you understood it isn’t “what” about us that has appeal but the fact that we exist together and how that makes…

Scavengers

Seven swallows pecking seeds chasing chickadees and bickering A surly sparrow not necessarily the strongest but the meanest strikes back at the circle of others encroaching not him but whatever he is and whatever he is doing if he isn’t one of them A mourning dove appears and with its zig zagged peck begins striking…

Malrow Winslow Tyler

Malrow Winslow Tyler is a fictitious coffee house entertainer in his mid fifties. He eeks out a living traveling a circuit of coffee houses in Michigan, Indiana and Ohio. He likes to ad lib his lyrics to go along with an electric guitar through a Marshall amplifier. I happened to catch him a couple times…

Granny’s House

Grandma swore when she spoke And with her tongue She gave a nasty poke to anything Grandpa said Good or bad Heaven didn’t give a giver So much as a liver as when Grandpa done did her despite the misgivings he knew he’d have That smile on his face shows no grin just a plastic…

The Confessor of Littlefield #3, The Bisectional Narrator

This is part 3 of the novel The Confessor of Littlefield The Bi-Sectional Narrator   (Note: the narrator is Adam Umbrian, a 44 year old self employed illustrator who lives in a fictitious small town in the Great Lakes. He is trying too hard to write a novel. We never really learn too much about…

#2 The Confessor of Littlefield, (Building the Homunculus)

This is serial number 2 of the novel The Confessor of Littlefield. Thanks to all of the intellectuals who have ever held high talk with me, both teachers and pedestrians. We help conceive each other amidst all the traffic noise. It is you who have helped me conceive this story. This excerpt has more poetry…

The Golden Voice

The Golden Voice by RJ Hoffman   A voice recorded, stored alive cackles to coffins and creaking cauldrons, with lines that break into dust Ghost personifications buried, so many lumps on a hill a row for each generation back to back and side by side pointing the finger, asserting direction with hairy knuckled shiny diamonds…