I don’t know what they’re talking about. I’ve never seen a woman’s reflection swirling in my whiskey, a lost love staring back at me; when a mumbling-fool’s summer daydream ends, as it has before, when the will is gone, both broken, when I stop asking why, when they become wavy-memory’s gorgeous distortions, I don’t drink […]
Truthful writing belongs to the solemnity of solitude. It abandons the quaking orgy of fame, and its incessant clanging of chains inside the empty puppet theater. It spurns puerilities and glittering adornments, as they assemble like smiling children. It murders them, in dark apartments, with painted-over brass numbers hanging crookedly from the door. And it […]
I suppose you’ve wondered why I might have let you go– without trying to convince you to stay– why I didn’t give chase when the flipped coin fell on disfavor, tho still it shined, polished with pride. We’ve met before, love, tho the faces different; the demons, writhing behind the shimmer and gloss of soft […]
The question had come up in early flirtation’s curious conversation, each learning about the other, fencing at times, each bringing a lifetime of relationships, and more than a bit of past pain into their words. “Do you believe in unconditional love?” she’d asked. My answer was not popular among the two of us at the […]
There’d been a time when men spoke as oracles, carving night’s obsidian into black-winged angels with their words’ intricate precision, each fine syllable spilled of their rotten-tooth mouths, poetry, the teeming spit glistening upon the swollen round of their cankerous lips, their poems, incarnate, swelling with life, swimming with notions, gestating before born; we live […]
It is this myth of symmetry, of which we are given to subscription, on which inclination places its burdensome yoke, from which we learn the impotence of equity, and in which we, ultimately, find our disheartenment. This queer belief that each side of the equation finds solution, its value, in balance, is human, computational error. […]
“All sins are attempts to fill voids.” ~ Simone Weil It seems apropos on an eve like this. Words attempt to hold bold notions within their letters’ slender-shadow walls, yet the notions escape into the ether, filling the lungs of those who dare breathe their truth, or their poison. But of truth and poison, is […]
Any attempt to cage this moment in words, such feeble restraints, would mean that its enormity, itself, had escaped.
Since a boy, I’ve known this of myself, tho I’ve pretended, wishing otherwise as I wept inside my tall solitude– I’ve known this of my creed, be there any still remaining, unhidden, be there any known to themselves. We are a translucent-walled love, our empathy outwardly facing, loving without limit of judgment, living only to […]
When they find our rubble, our pixelated digitalia, they’d think us an uninteresting generation; our wars– not fought for love, our art– wishing reciprocity.