such a delicate fall ( Read more... )

concrete gives of heat of bodies, echoing of air

then, cold

fire.

 you have to remember, he said, that the reason for writing can be something extremely simple; a radiator clicking in a just-emptied room

likewise, the reason for not writing can be something extremely vicious; my head filled with curing concrete

 oh father
won't you come along and
go with me
for heaven is mine

for heaven is mine
jesus is gone but he's coming back
again
jesus
is gone but he's coming back again
to take his children home
to take his
children

home
look away look away
look the long lonesome way
look away look the way
look the long
lonesome way
you can see the promised land

you can see the ( Read more... )

time to run

I drew you out with wires, hooked
under supple grapefruit skin. dark
and thick, inches of crableg
Jesus bugs and dragon flies,
troweled layers thick as mica dust

that shard of deep-edged flint stuck
deep within the hollow of your
inner eye, it rubs against your nose, and
edged in rust and copper bleeds

and as the morning pressed against
the iron surface of ( Read more... )

I WOULD LIKE TO (______________) YOU.

you've been wondering why i haven't been writing, it's because i've been reading.

slogging, actually. nothing like stumbling on a frankensteined abomination to make you want to pull up on the reins a little.

oh, submitters to armchair/shotgun, what *won't* you do.

so. i'm taking the next big leap. i'm winding up for it, casting about in all corners. like a piece of spring, or an oil-stained scrap of cloth. it's something that's been prowling around in the back alleys of myself, pawing at trinkets and hissing at the bright light, eyes shining like iridescent shocks.

the first big leap was: so, not follow all ( Read more... )