I saw a picture of you today,that crow’s foot smile, your eyesblue behind wisps of bang,arm around his shoulder,same old still,and I felt nothing. But then again,I was small fish to fry,and you laughed and said no,you are a whale and went awaythat Tiananmen spring. And there was fear in your voice,strung out, evacuated, long […]
I can smell my own pits,my night sweats,sucked up in my weekunwashed robe. I am disgusted. And yet, there,in the garment bags,lingered in your suits,your suits I brought homefrom your funeralin the sands so long far gone,remains these sameand bitter musks. And there, in the bags,the pastes of rose wallpapers,struggled up but aligned remain. And […]
Some dim tide strode the beach pelican, had quarters for eyes, and a gull’s sense for scavenge. I found pearls under the boardwalk, but they were just butts and hunks of abalone caught up in the pushing. The skeeball racked out addicts like melamine and spent rubbers, but we were young then, not known for […]
Was thinking of you as I pissed the chardonnay out, black exile to sewage. Was thinking of you and the trusts – thrice taken that garner no warmth, but shudder my torso in the steam of it. And then, Soft-bodied and filament, a spider reared up, pin-legged, from behind the tank, and topped the unset […]
So smooth and piquant then. Remember? Our love a puree of roots and bitters, quick peppered, swift boiled blobbed up and sulphurous. Melting the ladle, melting the pot, smoking the burner, firing the whole damn kitchen down. Yes, it still stings my lips, flaps on my uvula, something never fully swallowed but scorched on a […]
Tobacco tar walls, Resin ceiling, Dun carpet floor – all receding – creased receding to the elevator door – and the doors – the doors – the endless doors repeating. I drop a penny. I squat but it’s tails. I look up at a girl looking up. Her hair is black, tangled comely. She has […]
I am stuck between Sweatro and Gingerman, stuck out by the dumpsters, piss, and toothed butts, scrubbing concrete for roaches, hands stung out with brown shards of Michelob bottles between shots and lines. I am stuck in the batlamp, stuck in the felt, stacked like quarters by the rail, waiting my turn at the game, […]
