The horizon is bright as the sun relents to the realm of dusk and rain, settling the clouds on color as the world goes away. The gray and blue catching feelings from other hues as the shadows swell. Shapes turn to suggestions, words to dirt. The windows watch but the power is out, eyes blinded no matter how wide they are held open, the light...
Read More
I never quite know which camera’s on. I never know which machine they mean. Everything goes up in smoke, the moon reigning above the clouds, a rustling from the box by the door. Everything is making maps and seeking out the circumstance. The stacks you make to throw away, the stars you’d cross to have it back. I guess I’ll leave the music on, I...
Read More
The rain falls on all the usual suspects. No bees, no birds, no golden rule or noble words. It comes around to the tune of the body count and the plotting of prayers. Daylight muted by the spill of the dampened atmosphere, heart plundered and sunken in some sunset bay, all rocks and foam and the wilding waves. We want, we wait, we get served...
Read More
Your letters still elude me. There you are— your voice, your wit, your virtuosity— all in the grace of your deft and clever hand. All your declarations and assurances, all the mundane traces of the day to day, the literary cool and the carnal heat of your craft folded up in your art. I read you and I can see your eyes. I read you...
Read More
The small shabby room is crowded with books and animals, paw prints on the comforter, dust heavy on the shelves. A single lamp burns brightly enough, light spilling in through the doorway, the shadows shoved to the floor or up against a wall. The window is always open, and the cold wind hints and hollers as the rain goes away. The night walks through the...
Read More
It falls on the wrong side of the reckoning. It misses the point of the illustration, this stifling ever after, this stunned same old song. The day ran me ragged, the night leans in to make sure it hurts. The slow unfurling of these boundless banners, the victories and the celebrations as the earth swallows light and shadow, left to the devices of the world...
Read More
It’s the next best thing to ink you think as you move to make your case. It’s the way you state it plainly in your actions, the way it spills out when you speak. The dull plod of daily betrayals, the sickeningly sweet scent of the flesh of sacrifice, the default move to escape. This altar of glass and ashtrays, the way the prayer takes...
Read More
It the color of clouds and the sweep of the season. It the smudges on the lenses and the thrall of the smoke. The crows all work their home bound wings, twos and threes towards the roost, gray clouds taking color from the chemistry and the runaway sun. Power tools and electric blowers ring out, here among the aggressively swept streets and brutally attended lawns,...
Read More
I want to say it’s the angle of the light, but it’s just that the sun’s in my eyes. I want to say it’s the breadth of the color, but that’s just moving the blocks around. I know it’s the sadness, I know it’s the smoke, I know it is the curse upon my blood and the mark upon my brow. The world as a...
Read More
It’s the needle pointing nowhere. It’s the callus on your thumb. The compass busted, the deck broke open, the read long lost in all the cuts and shuffles. The eyes go wide, the body sets its stance. You hear a horn that would put Gabriel to shame, a little cutting by Coltrane. The world is always catching you up. Breaking bones and cutting deals between...
Read More