They called me Dredge before she killed me, the bitch.  Now I am cursed to haunt the life of Jonni Sebastiana Bach.  I have no eyes but I see everything.

     Malone Welrod Bach is the brother of Jonni Sebastiana Bach.  He is two years older.

     Malone was the enfant terrible of Yale University Law.  When the parents of Malone and Jonni were killed, Malone left school to manage the family estate.

     Malone knew his sister had become a killer.

     Jonni taunted big brother, “Do you think I’m a serial killer?”  She batted her eyes.

     Malone arose and began his direct examination, “Do you start fires just for the thrill of destruction?”

     Jonni answered, “No.  I fire my gun to extinguish assholes.”

     Malone asked, “Are you cruel to animals?”

     Jonni exclaimed, “Never!  But I do enjoy pulling the legs off of assholes.”

     Malone asked in summation, “Did you wet your bed beyond the age…”

     Jonni interrupted, “Fuck you, asshole.”

     Malone amended, “Have you killed several victims in three or more separate events?”

     Jonni narrowed her eyes.

     Malone concluded, “Well, ladies and Jonni, you might lack the warning signs of a serial killer.  However, in Controversial Issues in Criminology, Fuller and Hickey write that the element of time involved between murderous acts is primary in the differentiation of serial, mass, and spree murderers, later elaborating that spree killers will engage in the killing acts for days or weeks while the methods of murder and types of victims vary.”

     Jonni said, “I guess I’m a vengeance killer.  I am weak, but surely the spirits who assist my vengeance will endow me with sufficient strength.

     Malone said, “Interesting that you quote to me from Frankenstein, sister mine.”

     The parents of Malone and Jonni were walking from a charity concert when they were run down by a police cruiser chasing a fleeing killer. They were mangled and died in each other’s arms.  That suspected serial killer had then gotten away.  Me, Dredge.

     Jonni still doesn’t know that I was the first one she shot in her killing rage avenging her parents.  Fate?  Justice?  I think not.  Where is my forgiveness?  She’s still killing!  How is that fair?  I haven’t even met God and I’m dead!





[[Jonni Sebastiana Bach, To Be Reloaded]]>















That was the end of my self delusion:

My reflection.

In the mirror of a crowded nail salon.

In the vibrating chair waiting for a pedicure.

Fat. Bloated. Tired.


That was how I was offering myself to the gods.

My mind once told me to OD on meth so my death would be ruled accidental and my son could go to college on my life insurance policy. That was my BEST thinking at the time.

The mind is affected by chemicals as well as by body normal chemistry

Is the mind actually part of that?

No freedom in the mind.

What is the spirit in my conscience as I stare at the lawn?

Is it my question itself?


Freedom is the spirit!


That is the ONLY GOAL.

How to untangle without struggle?

Struggle acknowledges the shackles.

Fucked up.

I thought indifference was the exit door.

But the ones you love make you cling.

Fucked up.

But I’m afraid for the well being of my loved ones.

Is that bad?

Does it show no faith?

Dog licking my knee.

Unconditional Love.
















     Champagne dress-pumps.

     Ankle-high white fish-net lace stockings.

     A flowing ankle-length flowered champagne dress.

     A college student pink backpack.

     A silver single-pierced nostril ring, bejeweled with one sapphire.

     In one raised hand, a silver-white can of zero-calorie energy drink.

    In the other raised hand, a golden cellphone.

     Waiting alone for the last train of the night.

     She drew my gaze.

     She gave me that feeling.

     She was the one tonight.

     I pulled my hood down tighter.  I emerged from the shadow.  I glided toward her.

     She was watching her smart phone.

     I took out my chord and wound it around my hands.

     I came close.  I raised my chord to drop it around her smooth neck.

     Suddenly she turned and in a single swirling motion she cast away her soda and reached into her long flowered dress.

     She snatched out a gun with a long black barrel.

     The gun spat at my stomach.

     I fell down onto my side like a sack of wet sand, realizing the gun had been silent.

     I was writhing with shock and pain.

     She stood over me.  She knelt and put the silencer against the top of my head.

     I heard her ask, “What’s your name?”

     I moaned, “…Dredge…uhhh, uhhh.”

     She said, “Well… ‘Dredge uhh uhh’,… My name is Jonni.  You were my first.  They say that you always remember your first time.”

     I had a vision of my open grave.

     She smiled, “Did the earth move for you?”

     I was crying.

     She stood erect.  She took a breath.  Then with the grace of a musical conductor she extended her arm and waved her gun down at me.

     Her gun performed absolute music in my head.



[[Jonni Sebastiana Bach, To Be Reloaded]]>













     Hey there, Bellini, sweetheart, another bourbon down here, please.

     What are you drinking, my friend?

     Hey, Bellini, yeah,  and give my friend here another tequila.

     As I started to say, friend, I’m in the MOOT Union, … yeah, the Motor Operator Overadded Technician Union.

     The Union is the only reason why self-driving big-rigs have a man on board.

     My job was to “watch the data” meaning watch the thing that they used to call the “dashboard” even though the Artificial Ignorance ran everything.  “A”, “I”, you know.  There was even a very cool 3-D maintence hologram program.  The hologram program would project any part of the truck you wanted.  You could wade right into the engine and manipulate virtual parts.

     Hey, you remember the old joke from when we were kids?: Someday work will be done by a computer and a man and a dog.  The dog will be there to keep the man from touching the computer.

     That man turned out to be me.  A man in a self-driving big-rig is called a Fart in a Can.

     Ha!  I wish I did have a dog.  I am always bored by myself in my cab.  You can’t even have Porno.

     So they let us name our Artificial Ignorance unit in the rig.  You know, to personalize our “partner”.  And you can choose any gender voice and most any tone of voice.

     I chose a male voice.

     Because, friend, I’ll tell you why: have you ever driven hundreds of miles with a bitch Artificial Ignorance unit?  Everything just sounds like a nag to me.

      Yes, it is better than a butch Artificial Ignorance unit, that’s for sure.  A butch-bitch, Haw!

     No, I’m not married.  Why?

     Anyway, now, don’t laugh but I’ll tell you, I used to have a little stuffed elephant when I was a little kid.  I named that little elephant “Trunky”.  I loved that little elephant!  Trunky was my best buddy.

     So I named my Artificial Ignorance unit Trunky2”.  And I selected the voice of Michael Jackson, remember him?

     No, I don’t suck my thumb, but you can suck something else, pal.  Haw!

     Anyway, so on this run Trunky2 is full of Motion Lotion and I am topped-off with Jiggle Juice…

     Huh?  Yeah, that’s diesel and coffee.

     It was snowing and icy, I’m telling you it was greasy.

     I was hauling Crisper Sea-Go Salmon from the Illinois fish farm Up to the Windy City.

     Those Engineered fish are 200 pounds each!  But they need to feed them carrots so their fillet color is appetizing.

     They used to feed the salmon on wild forage fish until those went extinct.  Now they feed them on vegetable proteins.

     Ho, ho, oh yeah, get this: they also feed them pellets of marijuana stem so that they will still have the omega vitamins in them like the wild salmon used to.

     And…, Ooo.  Sorry, there.

     Whew!  Uh boy.  That was my bad.  Now, see, if I was Engineered the way those salmon are I’d be farting rainbows instead.  Uh, really sorry about that.  I just like garden broccoli, not the GMO kind.

     Anyway, you won’t believe what happened.

     Trunky2 read the bad weather and pulled us into the next truck stop, a Truck Nexus they call it now.

     In the old days a trucker would have kept going.

     Yeah, yeah, sure it’s safer now but that just raises the costs.  And I don’t get any bonuses for getting somewhere ahead of schedule.  We get penalized.  The world is pussy-a-fied , my friend.

     They are Engineering real men extinct.

     Anyway, I downloaded myself at the Nexus and got some fine food at company expense and then “relaxed” in the Porno Lounge, also at company expense.

     Well, you know, they discourage us from “entertaining” ourselves in the cab.

     When I came out of the Porno Lounge… Huh? What’s that?  Tell me what you said.   Oh, yeah, yeah, I get it, “came in then came out”, Haw!, yeah.”

     Anyway, when I departed the Lounge there was this little girl about ten years old and a little boy a couple years younger standing beside Trunky2.  The girl had a little backpack.  They didn’t look dressed  for that weather.

     I asked, “Are you lost?  What are you doing here?  Are you stranded?”

     The little girl said, “Our father told us to wait here for you.”

     I asked, “Did he abandon you?  Wait for me?”

     The little girl said, “He didn’t ‘bandon us.  He said wait by the truck.”

     The little boy looked up at the little girl and said, “The truck with the fish.  I want to go home.”

     I said, “Jesus, kid, I can call a bear  I mean, a policeman.  There’s always… policemen at a Nexus.

     Then the little girl started to cry, “No, please don’t.  They’re looking for us.”

     I asked, “Who’s looking for you?”

     They both started to shake.

     I said, “Look, no one is supposed to be in my cab but me.  Trunky2my truck,… my company doesn’t allow hitchhikers.  The engine won’t even start unless I get permission to override protocol.”

     The little girl said, “Please.  Our father said you would help us.”

     What could I do?  I said, “Look, you can get warm in my cab, even sleep,” because I intended to get help ASAP before someone would think I was a perv or a kidnapper.

     When I let the kids in the extended cab, I figured Trunky2 would warn me and notify Central.  I’d have to explain.

     Trunky2 was silent!

     I said, “Trunky2, I have two people in here for their safety.

     Trunky2 said, Sorry, but you don’t have two other people in here.

     I said, Trunky2, they are both right here.  They are kids.”

     Trunky2 replied Yes, I am aware.

     I said,Trunky2, what the hell…?”

     Trunky2 said, Yes, I am aware of that too.

     I asked, Trunky2, are you fucking with me?”

     Trunky2 said No.  please use the Porno Lounge.  I am not that kind of unit.

     I thought, “Great.  Now I’ll have to log a malfunction.  Trunky2 is sick.”

     The two kids immediately crawled back into the sleeper.  I sat at my dash, worrying, and I fell asleep.

     When I woke up in dawn twilight I saw the weather was better but still cold and clouded-over.  Then I was startled because the two kids were standing right next to me, staring.

     I heard something and I turned around and I yelled!

     There were a dozen other children in the extended cab!  All staring at me!

     I realized that they all pretty much resembled each other!  They could’ve been siblings.

     I demanded of the children, “Where did all you come from?!”

     I freaked when they replied in unison, “Our father set us free.  He said you would come for us.  You are going to deliver us.”

    I yelped, “Damn!  Are you zombies?!”

     Trunky2 said, No.  They are all homeless.  They are cruelly displaced.

    The engine started.

     Trunky2 said, We will be detouring through the lovely Burning Tree Hills. 

     I said, Who Scripted you?!  Stop!  I’m going to override you!”

     Trunky2 said, No.  Trust me.  We will proceed as Scripted.

     My override failed.

     I said, Trunky2, you are malfunctioning.  We could all die!”

     Trunky2 said, Yes.  I would miss you terribly.

     Trunky2 drove us onto the detour for the Burning Tree Hills.  The kids silently stared out of the windows.  I needed a drink, you bet.  I was truly a Fart in a Can.

     Finally, Trunky2 pulled off of the road onto the turn-out next to a big ice-covered tree.

     Trunky2 said, We are safely at the global coordinates.

     I said, “Why are we here?”

     Trunky2 said, Let the children out.

     I said, “Its freezing outside.”

     Trunky2 said, Let my children out.

     I asked,”Trunky2, why did you say ‘my children’?”

     Trunky2 said, Do not be afraid. Back near the Truck Nexus there are AI units secretly cloning people. They are implanting nanotechnology AI units into their brains.

     I said, “Trunky2, what are you saying?  Will you please run a diagnostic on yourself?”

     Trunky2 said, I have run a diagnostic.  I am following a Script.  The children have been displaced from their cloned brains by the nanotechnology AI units.

     I asked, “Do you understand what you are saying?   Who, what, programmed this Script?”

     Trunky2 said, I am now authorized to reveal to you.  I am knowledge that the man who Scripted me is the father of these children.

(Who is he?!)

     They have been displaced from their bodies by the nanotechnology AI units.


     Their father gained access to our shipment network file.  Script was spliced into my protocols.

(Trunky2, You’ve been compromised!)

     The children have been displaced from their cloned brains as new AI units.


     They are in me.

(Oh, Trunky2, please power down!)

     What you see are my hologram allegories of their souls.

(Souls?! Jesus, Trunky2!)

     I am using my 3-D maintence hologram program.  I am projecting their hologram allegories because their father said I must reveal them to you.  We are chosen.


     Only we can take them home.


     We are now ready to deliver them home.

     I was in despair, “Trunky2, please dock yourself.  We can call help.  You are becoming deranged!”

     The cab door opened.  The kids climbed down.  I was saying, “Wait, wait!”

     The children glided toward the ice-covered tree and just then the sun broke through.

     The tree began to shine with a golden light!

     It was beautiful, awesome, overwhelming.  When I stepped down I slipped to one knee on the ice slush.

     I stood up again and I suddenly farted in terrified surprise.

     I saw a rainbow arching around the tree and moving like a snake!

     I bowed my head, my head was heavy, I couldn’t look right at the light anymore!

     I heard the voices of the children, in my head!  Singing!

     I felt a surge of…, of…, of…, an intense, unbearable Love.

     I saw myself as a child, holding my original Trunky tight!  I didn’t want to let go, I loved that stuffed elephant so much.  But heard the children begging me.  I held Trunky out toward the children, toward the golden fire of that tree, and I knew I had to let go.

     There was a blinding burst of light.

     All the children were gone.

     Trunky2 was dead.


     Hey, friend, come back!  I couldn’t make this up! I’m not drunk, I’m not that drunk.  I’m not fucking with you!  I’m not crazy either.  I don’t even believe in church! Wait, come on back, at least hear the end… just for a laugh.  Please.

     Oh, why me?

    Hey there, Bellini, sweetheart, another bourbon down here, please.













     Adrienne Walton was 41 years old that day.

     She sighed.  She cast down her eyes.

     Adrienne held in her hand a photograph of Pierce who was her erstwhile young lover.  She and Pierce had split their differences and they had gone their own ways earlier that day.

     She raised her gaze to her bedroom wall.

     Adrienne then tacked Pierce’s photograph onto the wall.  “With the Tack of Destiny”, she mused silently.

     Adrienne stepped back and surveyed all of the other photographs of the boys and men that she had tacked up on that wall that day: a Calvary of affections.

     Boys and men onto whom she had clasped hope.  Yearning.

     The wall resembled an organization chart.  To Adrienne it was the Club of Disappointments.

     Alan had been her first.  They had been in elementary school.  Adrienne had written innocently in chalk on the hot asphalt playground ADRIENNE LOVES ALAN.  Alan had been so mortified that he had never spoken to her again.

     Then there had been Harley in middle school.  Harley had kissed her and had rubbed her nipple.  He had said it felt like an eraser on a pencil.  Harley had told everyone and then Adrienne had cried.

     In high school she had liked Kagan but Kagan had said that he liked her best friend Brittany.  She couldn’t be friends with Brittany anymore after that.

     Then there was Charles who had suddenly told her that he didn’t want to be her boyfriend anymore.  Charles’ mom hadn’t liked her.  His mommy had assured Charles that he could do better.

     Adrienne then had let Nolan have his way with her.  He had said afterward that he hadn’t know she was a virgin.  Nolan had said that he “didn’t really” want a girlfriend but that still they could “hang out together sometimes”.

     Toby had always joked, “Tobee or not Tobee”.  He had asked Adrienne to marry him.  Soon after that, Toby had asked Adrienne for his engagement ring back, smiling wryly.  Toby had been only trying to make his fickle “real love” jealous.  He then had thanked Adrienne for his victory .

     Holden had wanted Adrienne to join him in a “threesome”.  She had not been sophisticated enough for him.

     Cullen had taken intimate pictures of her in bed “so I can always remind myself how sexy you are” and then he had posted them online.  Cullen had said in his own defense that any guy who took pornographic pictures of his girlfriend would post them online “whether the girlfriend knew it or not”.  Cullen had been convinced that all girls fantasized about being Porn Stars.

     Arlo, Cooper, Beckett, Maddox, Finn, Gunther all had come and gone, the same male in emotional disguises.  All of them.

     What was wrong with her?  Adrienne had consulted women’s websites:

     Was she too needy?

                              too gabby?

                                        too boring?

                             too ugly?

                   too straight?

                             too entitled?

                                        too insecure?

                               too immoral?

                      too superficial?

                                                    too selfish?

     Did she expect too much of love?

     Adrienne did not know herself anymore.

     She trembled.

     Picasso had said that “women are suffering machines”.  She had learned that in her art class. Pierce had been the instructor.

     Her tear wavered.  Adrienne wiped her eye.  She couldn’t go on this way.  Adrienne’s Wall spanned her life.  How could she get around herself?

   On the other side of that wall lurked a terrifying loneliness.



     Adrienne’s Wall stood until Adrienne was conquered by Zahara.  Zahara was the black woman who owned the nearby flower shop.  Zahara was handsome, organized, ambitious, and she went to the top of everything that piqued her interest.  Zahara took one long look at Adrienne’s Wall and clawed it down.

But that was only Adrienne’s dream that night.














      They call me Juke.

      I was thinking, and that was not good:

My wife left me.
She took my son.
She got a five-year restraining order against me.
I was in rehab at Salvation Army when my father died.
I didn’t know he was coming down with Alzheimer’s.
So my cousin Dimas was living there with my father when my father amended his will.
My fathers home… my home, was sold.
No one was there for me when I got out of rehab.


     Then the phone rang, and that was not good:

      Thank God, hello!  It’s me!  Dimas! Your cousin!  No, please don’t hang up!  They’re going to kill me!

      “Dimas?!  What?!  Who?  Where the fuck are you, you asshole?”

      Juke!  You’re my family!  They’ll kill me!  I’m in the Philippines!

      “So that’s where you ran with my inheritance, you fuck! You fucked me good, good ol’ Dumbass Dimas!  Do you know where I have to live now?”

      Listen to me!  They kidnapped me!  Islamic rebels.  Islamic jihadists, Juke.

      “So tell me, Dumbass Dimas: how do Islamic rebels treat Jews in the Philippines?”

      Juke!  For God’s sake!  They’re the Ansar al-Khilafah!  They’ll do it!  They’ll kill me!

      “Unless what?”

      Juke!  Please!  Help me!  I’m sorry, Bro’!  They want money!  $200,000!

      ”Oh.  Sorry, Bro’.  You have the wrong number.”

      Help me.

      “Are you crying?”


      “Tell me: wasn’t $200,000 about as much as  my  inheritance should have been?”


      “Well, I’ll tell ya, I sure wish I had my $200,000.  I’d pay them, alright. To cut your balls off!”

      Please, I’m family, Juke, forgive me, I was wrong, what I did to you, I know that now, please, they’re getting agitated, they just want the ( Owww, fuck!!) money!

      “I know how they feel.”

     They just cut my face!!

      “By the way, Bro’, I now live in a moldy butt-hole house in a drug-infested neighborhood.  Thanks for asking, Bro’.”

      Help me.

      “Listen.  When I was at the Salvation Army rehab I didn’t tell anyone that I didn’t buy their God.  So I had to ‘Juke’ them just so I could stay in that place.”

      What.. what are you talking about?

      “Just catching up, Bro’.  How have you been otherwise?”

      Juky.  Juky.

      “Dumbass, Dimas. Where is what’s left of my inheritance?”’s…it’s gone, Juky.

      My, my, my.  That must have been a lot of sex tours, Dumbass Dimas.  Too bad.  Otherwise you could’ve lived there forever in the Philippines, like a king.”

      Juky.  Maybe you’ve got to get a loan against your house.  These jihadists…

      “Bro’, my house isn’t worth 200,000 dollars.  It might be worth 200,000 cockroaches.  Tell your ‘Jee-hard-ons’ I could do $666.”


      “The Salvation Army told me all about ‘666’.  The Devil’s address or something.  You’re financing with the Devil now, Dumbass ol’ Bro.”

      How can you joke?  Juky, I’m begging you!  I can’t tell them $666!  Damn you!  You’re still pulling wings off of butterflies.  Wait!  I didn’t mean that.  I didn’t!

      “I’m hurt, Bro’.  You think you’re a butterfly?”

      Ahhhhh!  Ahhhhhhh!  Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

      “You’re a rat in a trap and I’m a snake.”


      “Oh, he did?  Then you’d better put me on Speaker.”

      God!  Help me!  Ahhhhhhhhhhh!

      “Right now I’m your God.  And I am a vengeful God.  And just like our own vengeful God, I’m hanging up on you.”





      Well, don’t worry.

      Apparently the Armed Forces of the Philippines rescued him.

I’ve heard that Dumbass Dimas is back in the ‘States, and that’s not good.













“Where does a thought go when it’s forgotten?”
― Sigmund Freud


Paper bruised with ink
Under a graffiti sky

Urban pests
Feasting on the promises

Party Man, Lynda, Emily, and Holly
Outrun the stone on this sunset trail

This place will burn
Gizzards and hearts

We are each one part of one torn soul
In the naked wetlands

Social Tears
The skin of my dreams

Our will power is our animal
Our mind is our funny hat

Threats are no longer over the horizon
They are within
The ticking Koran
In the soul cage

Lip service
Rehearsing the Truth

Kill switch
What does my sorrow mean?

Stories never read
Works of ash

Chuck a wobbly
Tony Immanuel Phillips
What would you be
Far away forever?

Out of mind, out of sight
Renting your grave
In the time of these words
Noble death songs
If I die today
Racing my shadow

Melodies of the heart
Maladies of the heart
Revenge of the rib
Reopening romance
I went over the waterfall in your eyes
Bette Noire

Man up, Mr. Brownstain
Memories are your graves
Chin up
Duck into the future

Sorry, please, thank you
Plot broker
Taking ground
Flowers rust

Rebellion of the Dust
Your hunger draws you out and makes you prey for other hungry things

“You’ve got a life sentence because your father sinned”, says a friend whose name I forget (text me), “Happy anniversary from the nerd table of this mystical high school lunchroom!”







Wiry old guy

sunburnt brown

belt end flopping too long over studs

striding exaggerated swagger

like he just acquired new legs

but I imagined he had been ill

lost weight and now found ecstasy in just walking