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(Untitled)
There was a definite shift in the tonality of the room, the sound down an octave, the upper a tad bit more rare. The knife gripped in a gesture of defense ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
it really does not matter what I seen or
what I think I seen -
constant as content caresses context
Found what was lost, only to lose it again before the hand could grip.
A sip, a slip, a lip to purse or clasp in a plosive that leaves before the wind winds down.
Up the rain. The highway is no way to be.
Render me toxic and surrender on the field before the moon, smiling ( Read more... ) -
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the past will becalm
digital after we all
fade from here and there -
from LIGHTNING MAN
". . . Fishing was a sacrament, and therefore, after the strike, when his head was clear, there was the blurry aftertaste of ritual: the casting of the spoon in lazy repetitions, the slow cranking, the utterance of the clicking reel, the baiting of the clean hook, and the cosmic intuitive troll for the deep pools of cool water beneath the gloss of ( Read more... ) -
from GUT SYMMETRIES
Walk with me. Hand in hand through the nightmare of narrative, the neat sentences secret-nailed over meaning. Meaning mewed up like an anchorite, its vision in broken pieces behind the wall. And if we pull away the panelling, the what? Without the surface, what hope of contact , of conversation? How will I come to read the rawness inside ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
Reality was a tape-delayed broadcast, carefully censored before it reaches us.