Dreamscape

      It’s been a year now. The sun has not exploded. The elevator doesn’t always work, but when it does, we go up and down, confidently gliding on its slim cable. I feel like I’ve been brushed into a de Chirico landscape all this time, every pillar is human perspective diminishing into forever…

Basra

  He watches me waiting to be molded. His dark angel absorbing shadow. Mist forms landscapes in his presence, fueled by the glaze of his tortured breath. I clamber up hillsides whose tall peaks are rimed with slick horizons, arresting my slow burn into re-being, but it’s too late, the kiln is fired & my…

Blame it on the night

      It was a moonless midnight. Its bible black pressed hard against her. Making her swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help her God. There was no escaping its coffin seal, but she tried. She shut her eyes and recreated lie after lie after lie….

On Its Knees

          I held the apple in my right hand. A fig leaf in my left. These ornaments were strategically positioned. Which should I prefer? Knowledge with its apple core, or Peace & Plenty with its sticky bits of fig meat? Behind me the river flowed: a current of concepts, letters askew,…

It’s Academic

  The river expands and swells you’re in the water, but you have no rights to that water Yet the air is free and clear and you gulp it, then seal the will of nose and mouth Letting freedom fill the bellow of your lungs As you stroke deft stroke after deft stroke into the…

Missing

  There are nights when the burst of orange moon splits the sky into a juicy fruit of dark and light, when the black cloud threatens to haunt memory, and the wind blows distant through every impasse giving the moon her due, as she carries us all with her… through the dream – thick with…

The Fog Has Finally Lifted

  The sun glints oil-slick on the water‘s surface. A sailboat skids its was across – fast as a blink. Time is on summer holiday, sprawled on a blanket. I sit on this bench along Golden Gate Promenade – practically on Stanley Karatz’s lap. I try not to block his view. Stanley Karatz is the…

Naked

      Every reader is a Father Confessor. Every word an accomplice to a crime: The crime a need. The need a knowing, a bleeding, never receding, making us all our own assassins as we splay ourselves open, for the benediction of the faithless: Its blue partitions audition velvet rejection. A partridge song sings…

The Programmer

    His knees never stopped wiggling. Open, close. Open, close. Khaki-clad thoughts innervating his thighs into a hummingbird wing flutter that was painfully out of sync with the rhythm of his fingers as they tapped at his laptop’s keyboard. Click, click, click.  He was a cacophonous symphony of nervous tics. Back bent. Ankles crossed….

Sometimes I really fucking hate this city

    I look out the window. The sky is a dotted chalkline In the sunless landscape,every rooftop gives me a sidelong glance. I don’t see buildings, I see tombstones. The dead are sealed so tight and plush, sewn into the satin tufting of their coffins, they don’t even realize they’ve been buried.

She Called Him Nameless

  I would share a picture of my father, but I don’t have one. My mother made it her habit of cutting his head out of the few photographs there were of him. I have one or two pictures of me as a little girl smiling widely at a headless man in jail. I do…

Inmates Are Running The Asylum

  Mike Worrall, Passive Descent, oil on panel, 60x76cm, 2000   The air is all bluster and bother relentlessly badgering my window Just another big bad wolf huffing and puffing, threatening to blow the house down. The wind has its devices, but I’m not buying any of it. Let the neighbor’s cat keep scratching my…

Id Entity

  What is that tiny thing you nurture with eyes that open the night? Its cats claw the rooftops never wondering how hard the pavement is fifteen stories below, they spring out of numbness – they can’t feel the fall. This is not your life, this is Pu’er’s tea stain billowing fermentation in blue-green clouds…

Run, Lola, Run

    She runs red through a thicket of blue the green glows in spots but offers no perspective it just highlights where the worn places are where the glass is scratched and the light is no longer permeable. There a fog gathers its strength in the fugue of yellow the sound shatters the conservatory,…

Breakfast On The Edge Of De-Ni(a)l (e)

    The time is passing quickly again Hopscotching on little girl feet. “Are we there yet?” it cries impatiently. You said you were a leap of faith So I will take big umbrella steps And pirouette over that cliff Hoping I can clear the chasm. But even if I miss that quantum leap skimming…

Dissolving The Lucid Moment

“… in love the heart surrenders itself entirely to the one being that has known how to touch it. That being is not selected; it is recognised and obeyed.” —George Santanaya, The Life of Reason: Reason in Society, Scribner’s, 1905, p. 20     I was dreamy with you last night. You were with a…

Lull-A-Bye

  My night paints itself on you You are the pitch and the sway Of the wind. Flail your arms again Try to strip me from your skin I hear your screams, feel the claw In your grasp, but it’s too late Your eyes have turned to glass And are glazed with my reflection.  …

Conspiracy of Silence

    He never had a chance. By the time Dave was 5, every orifice in his body had been penetrated. Mama had the tip of his tongue pierced. Grandpa complained that the stud always scratched him. By 10, he’d been arrested 15 times for breaking and entering; he never stole anything, he’d just eat…