Mongering what is the space between the brackets when the sky bruises easy? I am tired of pretending pink where much is grey. There are no lions this side of the fence yet we carry knives, whisper the beasts asleep like he himself. I want to rest the dust, quell the stampede that makes animals […]Read more "Mongering"
The Clean Bugs, The Dirty Carpet The trending of past negative scars, the warzone isn’t out there it’s in here, the armed militant swans of the underground resistance have bad credit and worse mannerisms, ghetto apartments inside of the unknown and Terminus City are doorways to the abyss and anti-social personality disorders, funerals for forgotten […]Read more "The Clean Bugs, The Dirty Carpet"
Heavy Flowers The hairbrush waits patiently, bedside. The mirror is off-duty. There’s a plane of quilted flowers. Breath is heavy. You feel loosely-built. The soft music of the body rocks you in the room’s warm coat. The world, large and lost, vast and wondrous, diminishes. Years will come, sweep you away. But this is where […]Read more "Heavy Flowers"
Below is Part 6 of 16 monthly installments for Visitant. ◄◄ Read the prologue / introduction ◄ Read Part 5: Gulled: Flights of Fancy Peeved with William Shakespeare, I login my password, Motleydots, and google backstory on the pungent potherb, Rosmarinus officinalis. For remembrance, says sweet Ophelia to Hamlet, a Danish prince and the lousiest […]Read more "The Jill Hill | Rosemary Tisane: Cautionary Aura"
I’ll be your blood, your taste, your touch In my head I hold a mental map of all the pipes beneath these streets because I laid them there and in my fingers, spark of all the wires on those poles because I strung them there and in my muscle, lift of lumber — stud, joist, […]Read more "I’ll be your blood, your taste, your touch"
Inappropriately Dressed I wasn’t dressed for snow, or clouds, or wind, or for walking at all, if I were being honest. But sometimes you just have to give it a go and trudge through the clouds, kick up the snow in passing, challenge the wind with the size of your hat. It wouldn’t dare to […]Read more "Inappropriately Dressed"
A Boxer’s Bell Arty was born in the coal mines, hands blackened by the hardness of a coal miner’s life, a tough guy who learned how to street fight. Like a boxer, he took a boxing stance at the sound of the bell, any bell—even a cowbell or a school bell. He threw left hooks […]Read more "A Boxer’s Bell"
23 collected like sweater thread into his script floor gathers elephant trunk smolder knot at the neck and fissure what was discovered not a skeleton key but skeletal completed over the length of a conversation about spouses the weight of the wool is still there though our language is not pictorial but this is one […]Read more "In The Orchard | 23"
Nature is Calling Grass of mysterious light, Do you become dry from lack of love? Nature has this bearing on all of us, Take out a white paper. Draw the red cardinal bird Singing wet songs for your neighbors. Purple lilacs left a trace of dry dirt But for once They were alive with love […]Read more "Nature is Calling"
Permeating with Cockroaches the bathtub water runs constantly but only cold now, the cockroaches scurry, a Make America Great Again inspired nationalism pride parade, crossing the Atlantic, in lonely plastic bottles wrapped in corporate ad slogans and drifting hate, a last call to: a last stop in: Morocco Albania Ghana Argentina, suicide seems like an […]Read more "Permeating with Cockroaches"