the platitudes of willful resemblance

let’s get out the I-Ching
and roll the dice.

get our your taroc pack
and deal aces and eights.

get your sideways glance
at the moon, we’re
coming home.

 – Hoc Scripsi

no matter what color
the walls are painted
they are always red.
imposing.
masterful.
crushing.
not even an electric
guitars blues can
penetrate.

 – Hoc Scripsi

I’ve never been worth much.
not even to those who call
me friend or lover. once,
I was worth more dead than alive.
this isn’t too odd, tho it is
strange, in that, I had no
life insurance at the time.
now that I do, I expect to be
killed at any moment.

 – Hoc Scripsi

old poem. More than ten years and written before the most beautiful woman took up residence in my heart and head. K., the one who accepted and encouraged, breathed life into my poetry and being, who to this day fills me with love and makes it easy to get out of bed, makes it easy to get into it as well.
So, this was written at a particular low moment in life where I was the next to wander out of the hotel. Take it as you wish, no flash photography please.

All the beautiful
women have
left my
hotel.

All the beautiful
women have
left my hotel.

All the beautiful women

have left

my hotel.

 – Hoc Scripsi