National Chocolate Milk Day

Nothing quite like a dab of history to add character to one of your vices. That’s right, this is historically bad for me. A treat of epic proportions. A sweet with a pedigree.

Last Night's Parties and Last Night's Horrorshow


Chocolate milk was invented my Hans Sloane in the 1680’s. While he was in Jamaica, Hans discovered the local drink of water mixed with cocoa, which he found distasteful. In an effort to find a more pleasant tasting drink, he mixed it with milk and brought the recipe back with him to England.

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Time Frame

Remember reading Egyptian love poems
That read like Romantic complaints
And Greek letters to family friends
that were reminiscences
about good old days

The Monstrous

Two monsters I’ve met
The Grendels,
the various beasts of nature
given razor teeth and claws, red hair
the fearful symmetry that made the lamb
etc., etc.
Monster in name by those afraid of them

And then Monsters in polos,
monsters creeping with wormy smiles and bleached teeth
even quiet looks and jeans are creeping with secret abuses
and so, yes
The world was made for monsters,
the monsters who are the fungus in the veins
of the beasts that eat the lambs,
the monsters that twist the limbs and lambs and hearts
and leave marks on nature and pervert

that the world was made for hidden monsters is true
And so heaven help the tiger

I Write For Me

I Write For Me

“I write to capture silvered words,” some say.
“I write to a higher purpose,
I write to pray.”

But I,
I write to pin down butterfly wings
I write to put a mark on the moment my soul screamed
I write to satisfy my furrowed eyebrows
And the speeches I give in the dark
I write to give room to the stirring bird in my hollow heart
I write for candy
for the convulsion that comes from wanting
I write for fire
For the steam that rises in my throat and chokes me
I write for listening
And if I’m not careful,
I write
for the ghost between my mountains
that becomes me
when one moment’s dead and emotion is a memory
I’ll write the scenery
I’ll forget the life that made me write
and write the seasons of my mourning