between seasons
The fence is painted in shadows, the deadfall tangle and the smoky overtures. There are sky blues and white clouds and the usual procession of crows. I drink coffee, smoke a cheap cigar just for the flavor of the burning. The smoke curls away, finds the wind, rises through the tattered trees. It is another measure of the atmosphere, here where summer has...
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The fence is painted in shadows, the deadfall tangle and the smoky overtures. There are sky blues and white clouds and the usual procession of crows. I drink coffee, smoke a cheap cigar just for the flavor of the burning. The smoke curls away, finds the wind, rises through the tattered trees. It is another measure of the atmosphere, here where summer has...
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burning angel
The angel begins as burned, a flash of vision then nothing into flight. Your wings a substance I favor, some color of after thought laden with hints and acclimations. Never the kindness, but the levity of every wish denied followed your star, fallen and left to some apothecary claim. There once, and never again. Your absence the only count of forever.
Why the...
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The angel begins as burned, a flash of vision then nothing into flight. Your wings a substance I favor, some color of after thought laden with hints and acclimations. Never the kindness, but the levity of every wish denied followed your star, fallen and left to some apothecary claim. There once, and never again. Your absence the only count of forever.
Why the...
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patter
Leave it all to the dustbin of history. Leave them for God to sort out. The music does not change just because it isn't playing. The song won't stop just for silence. Roll down the window and feel that imitation of wind. Don't even bother to keep your eye on the road.
The typical day closes out a little poorer for the exquisite recipe....
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Leave it all to the dustbin of history. Leave them for God to sort out. The music does not change just because it isn't playing. The song won't stop just for silence. Roll down the window and feel that imitation of wind. Don't even bother to keep your eye on the road.
The typical day closes out a little poorer for the exquisite recipe....
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might
Cling to the skin you were given, whatever tender miracle, whatever feckless gaffe. Hold to the course of the ephemeral constant, that flare and dim of every impact. The sound beatings and the drizzled kisses, the dead endings and apostasies, the dreary fantasy and the startling fact. Endure these dismal words, and the duller ones to follow. As long as there may be more,...
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Cling to the skin you were given, whatever tender miracle, whatever feckless gaffe. Hold to the course of the ephemeral constant, that flare and dim of every impact. The sound beatings and the drizzled kisses, the dead endings and apostasies, the dreary fantasy and the startling fact. Endure these dismal words, and the duller ones to follow. As long as there may be more,...
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prototype
You can teach yourself almost anything. Another language, the names of long dead stars, the card catalogue or the Lindy Hop. You learn to feel, you learn to fight, you learn to love or at least when to stop. Give me a map and I will make a way. Give me a corner and I will take the whole damn floor. I learn slow,...
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You can teach yourself almost anything. Another language, the names of long dead stars, the card catalogue or the Lindy Hop. You learn to feel, you learn to fight, you learn to love or at least when to stop. Give me a map and I will make a way. Give me a corner and I will take the whole damn floor. I learn slow,...
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away
I fold the pillow in half, finding a cool side once hidden, finding some solace in the drowse. Not much happens where I wander. The little details tend to expand, the silence never much opposition, meaning never even a bother. Toss and turn, daze and dream, work and those moments waiting for work to begin. The freeway prison and the locked door liberties. When...
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I fold the pillow in half, finding a cool side once hidden, finding some solace in the drowse. Not much happens where I wander. The little details tend to expand, the silence never much opposition, meaning never even a bother. Toss and turn, daze and dream, work and those moments waiting for work to begin. The freeway prison and the locked door liberties. When...
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little wing
Even now, in these hours framed by street lamp and starlight, I find my fingers tangled in your hair. Even here, alone in the quiet pallor of electric lights, I find my fingers tracing the creases made by sheet and pillow pressed into your flesh. As if touch alone could call your forth from these moments overgrown with doubt and bitter. As if...
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Even now, in these hours framed by street lamp and starlight, I find my fingers tangled in your hair. Even here, alone in the quiet pallor of electric lights, I find my fingers tracing the creases made by sheet and pillow pressed into your flesh. As if touch alone could call your forth from these moments overgrown with doubt and bitter. As if...
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the calling
There is a light left on long into the night. There is a light that shines to show the way. A window lit, a candle flickering, some curl of heat and smoke casting shadows for you. A place swaddled in stars and life. A place awaiting your soul and hard luck. Somewhere that knows you as only home might. There is a light...
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There is a light left on long into the night. There is a light that shines to show the way. A window lit, a candle flickering, some curl of heat and smoke casting shadows for you. A place swaddled in stars and life. A place awaiting your soul and hard luck. Somewhere that knows you as only home might. There is a light...
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well enough
I can't count all the evenings that ended with my asking. Eying the ceiling, pretending at heaven. I couldn't list all my selfless sins I engaged, looking to rejoin the world. Talking to someone I am so sure isn't there I can't help but hope I am wrong. Beneath a blue sky the longing only gets worse, sweating through this early shroud. Out...
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I can't count all the evenings that ended with my asking. Eying the ceiling, pretending at heaven. I couldn't list all my selfless sins I engaged, looking to rejoin the world. Talking to someone I am so sure isn't there I can't help but hope I am wrong. Beneath a blue sky the longing only gets worse, sweating through this early shroud. Out...
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unbidden
The words all weigh the same, pressed against the windows of the heart. Always looking in through the steam of being, looking for an inkling of the mystery, looking for some silvered shore. The stand on tip-toe, they crawl on their bellies, the kneel and they strut. They gather a glimmer, a slender tether that binds them to that torrid blood. They leave as...
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The words all weigh the same, pressed against the windows of the heart. Always looking in through the steam of being, looking for an inkling of the mystery, looking for some silvered shore. The stand on tip-toe, they crawl on their bellies, the kneel and they strut. They gather a glimmer, a slender tether that binds them to that torrid blood. They leave as...
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mark my words
The stars fill up the margins, the ink stains every wish. Words standing on each others shoulders, words buried in the sand. I read a little and mark my place. A tiny crease tells me I have been too rough on the pages. Heavy hands, hollow hearts, and this restless appetite read in between.
I have been neglecting my reading. Slips of...
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The stars fill up the margins, the ink stains every wish. Words standing on each others shoulders, words buried in the sand. I read a little and mark my place. A tiny crease tells me I have been too rough on the pages. Heavy hands, hollow hearts, and this restless appetite read in between.
I have been neglecting my reading. Slips of...
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asleep and alone
It is the odd momentum, music walking down a hallway, a shadow lingering in the door. It is the slow changing, one state of matter leaving for the next. We slip from from one sensation to the next, touched by the air, riddled with grief. Breath grays the silvered mirror, sweat beads upon the graceless skin. It flows, and we follow, the...
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It is the odd momentum, music walking down a hallway, a shadow lingering in the door. It is the slow changing, one state of matter leaving for the next. We slip from from one sensation to the next, touched by the air, riddled with grief. Breath grays the silvered mirror, sweat beads upon the graceless skin. It flows, and we follow, the...
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