It's difficult to sit down and just write anything. there are confines, rules, set regulations that come to the tips of the fingers when one deems it time to create. It's as if something immediately wedges itself between the keyboard and the brain. And what's between the keyboard and you? I can't quite say. Infinite … Continue reading Thinking Inkly: Looking For You, Wherever You Are
To be a poem I would have to fold myself I would first begin a bending of the arm a twisting of the wrist then, after some strain, the snapping of the ankle the spaghetti noodle of each rib pressing into a bend pressing into an arc pressing in two one piece always flies off … Continue reading “Ars Poetica” [1]
Lost, somewhere among the crashing and burning of the forest, Far off from my apartment on Meadows but you can smell the smoke over the flowers and the clumps of long-stemmed grass. Far gone, lost to dreams and paintings, Summer burning away everything, Apollo too close to sage, an attempt to naturally pull more carbon … Continue reading Smelling Smoke
I wish the words would spill out sand crashing from the oversized hourglass of my shattered mouth my teeth so many shards that I can't quite let you put your finger on; possible that it would or could pad the way from the cuts across my tongue words are sharp teeth and bits of rock, … Continue reading Ash (or “Shy Boy”)
The kiss on my cheek, I lay quiet, pulling the heavy duvet over my crunched body becoming something more of a bean than a being: and soft and soft and soft and soft all four quickly in succession across the thin, David Bowie shape of my jaw it's impossible to tell which is what or … Continue reading Kiss (x4)
As a quick note: I'm scribbling furiously so as not to lose any bit of my intention I caught it running circles somewhere in my chest I grabbed it and now am forcing it onto paper: As a quick note: You are lovely from top to bottom and from bottom left to bottom right and … Continue reading A Quick Note
It's the comedown of it all. the after splash, falling back, air rushing out of faux down, feeling the thought rush in, remembering that sweat is a response to heat not a cause of it. That natural occurrences are sometimes all that are needed to peel our psyche away from the glass of existence and … Continue reading What’s Beautiful
"That's how it all gets out, kid." "What?" "I said, that's how it all gets out. You know? The scum of life, that's how you get it out." "How do you know?" "My son of a bitch father taught me, well before I was a twenty-something drunk prick like you." "And you hated him, but … Continue reading Buff
Sat back in a chair, mid-day summer heat, it's all burning up, choked up, silent summer smoke. Black metal roasting the seat of your pants. there are no birds on these wires, out far, somewhere in the distance out of sight you can hear them pressing together pressing sputtered air out of their intense fragile … Continue reading Heat
you do your make-up well you know? it’s hard to say exactly how or why I “know” that but there’s something that is artistic in the way that you have your face done up. it makes the flick of your eyes, the way I see them move across someone else’s face, studying endlessly the subtle … Continue reading The Pearl Against The Gloss
