A performance of F. Keith Wahle’s poetry at the Mockbee/SSNova in Cincinnati Ohio. During his phase where he always got naked while reading his poetry. Possibly for my book release. Evidence of pre-millennial sexting. Enjoy! Also there’s really bad audio sync issues that I don’t care about.
The moon is now our sycophant, and the earth our omnipotent sleeping grave. Our shoes the thrones of our feet, our fingers the dreadlocks of our slit wrists. The ashtray our baptismal basin, the smog of cars our aphrodisiac musk. … Continue reading →
You see I need to find a way through the cold dark night. You see coffee might not do it, and plus I don’t have any coffee. Pot would make me sleepy. The skin that slides greasily over the knuckles … Continue reading →