Blind Alley Blues



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Blind Alley Blues blasts off from where The Lost Crew of the Volya IX ended.

Join Meteor Mags and her criminal crew on a suicide mission to Ceres, and help them steal the biggest guns in the Solar System!

Bang your head as the Psycho 78s play their most nefarious concert of all time, and find out how the band originally got together!

Run for your life in the tornado that terrifies an entire asteroid! And grab all the ammo you can carry, because you are rocking the Asteroid Belt with Meteor Mags and Patches—at a more brutal volume than ever before!

Available in paperback from Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Also for Kindle, iBook, and Nook Book. See more ebook formats.

21,000 words. 102-page paperback includes black & white ink drawings.



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Like the stars at night,
the animal inside you
has always been free.





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She had no patience for anyone
who had not set themselves on fire.

It wasn’t a game to her, or an idle pastime.
It mattered in a way you couldn’t understand

until flames crawled up your skin from the pyre
consuming everything you ever loved,

when blood boiled in your veins
and landscapes you’d never seen before filled your eyes.

That’s the kind of woman she was.
She wanted more than for you to go out with a bang.

She wanted you to take everything with you.
If you couldn’t, then it was never yours in the first place.





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The city crumbles and takes her with it,
her portrait painted on its aging skin.

They should have sprayed her over metal
so she could live forever

like guitar riffs in a basement
and lovers we will never meet.

Instead, she’s been falling apart since day one,
a persona stenciled on concrete

barely more permanent than flesh.
Her heart refuses to break

but the surrounding world is falling apart
and always will be

and she is one with it and it is her and she is
all the things we should have listened to

but ignored
like our bodies

the substrate we grow on
the lines and cracks of age

the structures of civilization
and all it pretends to be.





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Winter visits us with her careless brutality
and we only want her gone.
My tiny kitten,

bathing you with my tongue
finding shelter in these rocks
that refuse to forgive or remember,

here we make our comfort.
I will teach you unconditional love and murder.
We will drink the blood of incomparable vistas

where we have only enemies and sunlight.
This frozen wasteland tattoos itself on our hearts
and the moon in a tempest we will always carry.



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We eat the last bite with bitterness
for here our pleasure ends.

We exhausted it like lost sailors
reaching the last of our provisions.

Here, you take it—or else throw it away.
Drain its breast of sustenance for me.

It’s only real when I see it in your eyes.
This world had no shape before you.

It has no song after you,
no song but this.





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Naked, we run at night
caring nothing for heat or cold

only for what can be killed
only for what is ours.

We mark it, maul it
and make it our own.

This battleground
is our sole inheritance

and we have no prayer
of leaving it alive.

Doubt we never entertain
nor fear

nor hesitance.
We leap into the unknown

and if it will not catch us,
then we die.

But what is that
to immortals?




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Black daisy.
A kiss we have
already forgotten.

I can no longer taste
your salt on my tongue.
The skin healed shut.

Pull me apart again.
I never wish for
peaceful days.

I crave days that boil,
days filled with sun
destroying everything
except my blossoms.

They bloom for you.
They bloom for you
and they bleed.