Tag Archives: John Mark Brown

From the little door at the end of the hall it clicks and clatters as it shimmers in your hands. A rustle like wood reed strung together in light breeze sends shivers through the house, and you drag it down … Continue reading →

to see him now, skin stretched over new gut flesh and shoulders cast with a broadness though a sad sloped form of the ones I knew from when we were kids pissing in the bath we shared like our face … Continue reading →

—they knew the same green height by seasons they marked; repeated plant/sow, reap/sell, buy/bury; just a twitch in corn/soy, time/draught, cost/profit; they knew sweat beaded first in the third hour of work, and a hose to the wrist cured the … Continue reading →

First from denim pockets he’ll pull the wand— enchanted lead to christen stark white page. Movements swift, precise. A woman will choke her first breath across wide snowy fields where pencil point scratches her curved form. She’ll point a toe … Continue reading →

You smell him first. Animalistic, barbaric, being warned of near danger through primal cue. He still is evening sweat. Spearmint gum. Department store cologne—Bleu de Chanel, he lies. Whether instinctual reaction or emotional masochism, you spin to find again the … Continue reading →