original
-
outside it is pouring,dark spilling over the sidewalklike a glass filled with the blood of something fragile.you and I are somewherein this flood of warmth. the rain continues to knockon the roof, a witnessto all of this nothing.time drips slow. quiet.you and I will part so soon.
-
It’s not as much a tussle as much as it is a boxing match; the dodging and weaving like swerving into traffic.The reason people must inevitably bury themselves is the same as why full stops must be full. You know the steps by heart:here is an empty space to be filled. Here is a name erased. Here is another
-
a subject lost in beard of old white men. boy bastards, us three. three accidents. don’t you get it? I want to be unknowable as a truth. lose the leashed thread. here is a map. walk it; I blank the names, distance distance.
-
In this dream, you shed your skin and cast away your leather wings; from your pockets, spill these things – antiplatelet medicines, Clopidogrel, Aspirin. Warfarin, for battles within. In another, I hold your chin and nothing else. Come, unspin this long dream of safety pins and other stories, wherein the might of the might-have-been becomes
-
jazz, booze, brazen pizzazz, zouks daze, putz rezones contemporary votary youth. yell, yes, yourself yearns inexpert, co-existing, bemixed jukebox. next, proxy ‘howdy’ – who, which fellow, why? walleyed, worship quivers: reserve leaves, salvation arrives volubly, requests. puzzled, you jumble, quake, jumped-gun. mother, tortoised beneath table, watches daughter’s social, reminisces pregnancies. warns – his compass veers
-
oh, monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be: the unlikely story, here we are, orbiting outside space of closed bar, between us a bridge, both of us victims of some violence: you, the first stone cast, the queen dethroned, me, the first to leave, a nomad in this empty echo.
-
on the elevator she steps aside, lets others into the gantries first. she hasn’t seen a mirror in years: in the dark, she feels about her shape, is satisfied with being. what was her name? she knew it was a saint’s. it just had to be. in the dark she swallows even without being asked.
-
first, to visit, you have to be lost. second, there will be no guide, so open your eyes. the lake before you is just a diversion. watch out for the lonely boat, beating itself against the shore. check below the seat. there, you shall find an oar and or a map. it doesn’t matter. row
ugly stage 