art crush
The music isn't so much sad as bereft you think, her voice a far away calamity, rich in woven flowers and industrial solvents. Her voice is the question poked of the monster in the dark. You sit and invent crossings of stars and cheap pornography. You sit in the dark and listen to the tug of her distance. Time and hope switch name...
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The music isn't so much sad as bereft you think, her voice a far away calamity, rich in woven flowers and industrial solvents. Her voice is the question poked of the monster in the dark. You sit and invent crossings of stars and cheap pornography. You sit in the dark and listen to the tug of her distance. Time and hope switch name...
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the grandfather paradox
The world cools slowly, never asking me even a moment for my views. The sun tumbles off, and the electric fan rattles, and my eyes are dull and dim. I left work an hour later than scheduled, because I live the sort of life that always rates last-- the other kind. My time is barely worth paying for; my time isn't even...
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The world cools slowly, never asking me even a moment for my views. The sun tumbles off, and the electric fan rattles, and my eyes are dull and dim. I left work an hour later than scheduled, because I live the sort of life that always rates last-- the other kind. My time is barely worth paying for; my time isn't even...
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falling forward
I should be sleeping, but I never seem to sleep when I need it. Instead it is loose ends and electric light and typing after trails I oughtn't even be thinking after. My bags are packed, the coffee maker is ready to go. All I need to do is get a little sleep, and the alarm will do the rest. All I need...
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I should be sleeping, but I never seem to sleep when I need it. Instead it is loose ends and electric light and typing after trails I oughtn't even be thinking after. My bags are packed, the coffee maker is ready to go. All I need to do is get a little sleep, and the alarm will do the rest. All I need...
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waiting for my will to arrive
It isn't the mass, it isn't the gravity. They play their parts, but they don't hold me. It isn't the promise of heaven or the solace of death. No grace or extinction can beckon me towards tomorrow. It isn't this dose of blood, or these battered bones, or this burning ghost entangled in want and words that keep me...
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It isn't the mass, it isn't the gravity. They play their parts, but they don't hold me. It isn't the promise of heaven or the solace of death. No grace or extinction can beckon me towards tomorrow. It isn't this dose of blood, or these battered bones, or this burning ghost entangled in want and words that keep me...
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the limits of this light
My skin is the color of blood and dust, dull and blotchy in the limits of this light. I put the lights out so much earlier. Give my countenance a little ease from all that shine. Forget all the mirrors, ignore the peering window glass. Only the glow of this screen, empty and without purpose. Only these trailing words and...
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My skin is the color of blood and dust, dull and blotchy in the limits of this light. I put the lights out so much earlier. Give my countenance a little ease from all that shine. Forget all the mirrors, ignore the peering window glass. Only the glow of this screen, empty and without purpose. Only these trailing words and...
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the wake
Something always ends up by the wayside. Something is always missed. No surprises-- almost everything happens at once. Even the things that happen to other people. Even the things that shouldn't happen at all. I go to sleep to the sound of the radio, to the crackling of the television. I go to sleep on the floors of strange houses, angry voices still...
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Something always ends up by the wayside. Something is always missed. No surprises-- almost everything happens at once. Even the things that happen to other people. Even the things that shouldn't happen at all. I go to sleep to the sound of the radio, to the crackling of the television. I go to sleep on the floors of strange houses, angry voices still...
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trampled by the sun
Sleep long enough and the dreams will sweeten the deal. Sleep long enough, you wonder why you ever woke at all. The accumulation of hours finally weighed me down, and I slept through the windy morning into the windy afternoon. Tossing, turning, smiling at the devastating paces between life and dreams. Good old days that never really happened. Earnest lovers, close...
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Sleep long enough and the dreams will sweeten the deal. Sleep long enough, you wonder why you ever woke at all. The accumulation of hours finally weighed me down, and I slept through the windy morning into the windy afternoon. Tossing, turning, smiling at the devastating paces between life and dreams. Good old days that never really happened. Earnest lovers, close...
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separate heavens
Everything should have slowed down. Every touch, every light should have been its own imprint. As if, when the time does finally arrive, it waits along side. As if when the truth is told it could do anything but leave a mark. Instead it is again the ebon in-between separating breaths, wading in where-ever the flesh runs shallow. My nature as age and...
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Everything should have slowed down. Every touch, every light should have been its own imprint. As if, when the time does finally arrive, it waits along side. As if when the truth is told it could do anything but leave a mark. Instead it is again the ebon in-between separating breaths, wading in where-ever the flesh runs shallow. My nature as age and...
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bust
No poems, no words, only sad secretions. A kind of unkind dementia, that sinless stone cast outside of the causal. A nervous tic that takes the place of paper. A spasm that inverts instance and ink. All the hours left wide open. All these seductions of the lovely and the brutal.
There is a shift in the sediment, the spill of a brilliant flow,...
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No poems, no words, only sad secretions. A kind of unkind dementia, that sinless stone cast outside of the causal. A nervous tic that takes the place of paper. A spasm that inverts instance and ink. All the hours left wide open. All these seductions of the lovely and the brutal.
There is a shift in the sediment, the spill of a brilliant flow,...
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the script
These dreams were fed to the fire, the tattered comforts blazing so bright. This dawn was painted in the window while the motor was running. A stranger loosed upon strangers, glassy-eyed and wondering at the burn of it. The tired roll-call of the day and the day once more, the shadow cast casually aside. Thirst and hunger and a warry hand. Exhaustion bound...
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These dreams were fed to the fire, the tattered comforts blazing so bright. This dawn was painted in the window while the motor was running. A stranger loosed upon strangers, glassy-eyed and wondering at the burn of it. The tired roll-call of the day and the day once more, the shadow cast casually aside. Thirst and hunger and a warry hand. Exhaustion bound...
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into the west
Awake to the shake and gasp of the gray traces, the broad trawl of dreams receding, leaving this strange and tattered world behind. It takes a minute to find the time and gather the ghost, sitting up still weary, acknowledging the gentle errors of the flesh. An ache here, a tether there, this sweet complicity of being an alarm of its own....
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Awake to the shake and gasp of the gray traces, the broad trawl of dreams receding, leaving this strange and tattered world behind. It takes a minute to find the time and gather the ghost, sitting up still weary, acknowledging the gentle errors of the flesh. An ache here, a tether there, this sweet complicity of being an alarm of its own....
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bright ideas and blown kisses
The stars are all lost, or maybe there is still too much light to see. The color of the horizon only another long shadow. The color of my eyes no color at all. There is to seeing too much wait left. There is in the sky nothing much at all. From the crack on the sidewalk to the streak of...
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The stars are all lost, or maybe there is still too much light to see. The color of the horizon only another long shadow. The color of my eyes no color at all. There is to seeing too much wait left. There is in the sky nothing much at all. From the crack on the sidewalk to the streak of...
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