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Category Archives: Reprint
Plurality
Plurality ((Canvas:_textile I saw in miniature, a thousand times repeated in front of me, like some carnival mirror that fragments into multiplicity, my own self, but each self was different//distinctive:: like so many perfumed ants, but___ no magnifying glass here … Continue reading
york
broken bottles pictures steps a singular wooden chair that held the midst of every man who chose to lament in thought rather than nigh sea and wave reflection cease mind behold man has a history of destroying what he once loved. … Continue reading
a love poem Vonnegut could swallow
when undressed no matter how the feat is managed eyes fingers imagination man must side-step the crux of existence once life is acknowledged as sexually transmitted all nuance is: lost This is a reprint of work originally published … Continue reading
Paris Haiku
Erik Satie’s music in the courtyard pears hanging off a window Shakespeare & Co the red pony in a fallen stack of books late afternoon Allée des Brouillards Montmartre on tiptoe end of the day our shadows swept by the … Continue reading
Rust
He sold antique keys and odd door handles from a worn wooden table in La Rochelle. He had no children—he was sterile, and he had no wife—she’d left him. I’m going on the boat, she’d said, her bags slumped down … Continue reading
In Captivity, by the Streams of Babylon
in captivity, by the streams of Babylon in captivity, by the streams of Babylon in captivity, by the streams of Babylon in captivity, by the streams of Babylon in captivity, by the streams of Babylon in captivity, by the streams … Continue reading
The Factory
People wondered what went on behind the great door of the factory. It presented a bland face. It emitted no sounds. No steam issued from its chimneys. In the upper story it had round, blackened windows, though it had been … Continue reading
Jackson Pollock Moment
“There’s something you need to know before they lock me up,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed drinking coffee, brushing kitten fur from the Egyptian cotton, “I’m going to poison that dog.” “Go ahead.” “And my hair’s … Continue reading
Shedding My Night Skin
I caught Ambiguity behind Her mother’s minivan one night after another dog-day shift at the grocery. My mind stuffed with questions, her eyes gushing sexy. Or was it mischief? Eyedunno. Starry Night mixed modern with cloversmoke as her snake-bit lips … Continue reading
Who Speaks English?
It was whispered that he had Nordic origins, a bastard child possibly Indo-European – something whose mother is still uncertain of to this day, but she swears daily he takes after his father anyway. The Happy Meal toys scattered across the … Continue reading
