Six to the End (from the pages of Berlin)

My new poetry chapbook Berlin (from Maverick Duck Press) is flying out the door, and I thought I'd throw up a sample poem for anyone who would like to see what the chap is all about. The poems were all written during a week in Berlin, Germany in 2010 and contain plenty of noir sentiments: streelamps, trains, sidewalks, corner cafes, nighttime skylines, hotel ghosts, and more. You can order copies for $6 via the publisher or by emailing me at If you already own a copy, you can leave a review and rating at Thanks!


Six to the End

out go the lights

six to the end like empty chambers

of a smoking gun dead


broken heels running in the night

up the wet street, up the wet sky

blonde hair gracing the face of the moon


every dream has a hole

and every hole pours red hope

into pools of abrupt sermon songs


there isn’t a street without a crack

and there isn’t woman without a spine

to hold up her coat, or feathered summation


the women, they reload quick

and then men, they hurry for knives

every villain eager for a hero

every heart beaten to a pulp


and the empty shells slip from the gun

clatter onto the glass table

roll across Venetian blinds like mice


in the alleys there are tigers

in Macau there are fires

in morgues there are long dreams of masculine fear


all down the potter’s lane, cemeteries in a row

six to the end like waiting chambers

six to the end like autumn lovers gone