Sandman Express V

Read more of the Sandman Express poems. the price, in the beginning, was a simple necktie with a knot like a half-eaten moon, a vase of flowers and the dust from a magic carpet that had sailed to all seven setting suns or so said that wiry old mystic as we shotgunned along on his [...]

Revenge of the First

Salvador Dalí, "Geopoliticus" Child Watching the Birth of the New Man, 1943 there’s nothing left to undress but the nose a trinket the size of a dime, really, an anthill of cosmic reconstruction a single-celled dinosaur and the fracture in a memory that’s sent tumbling from its axis like the ribs off a sleeping bull [...]

Ring of Thieves

Joan Miró, Woman and birds in the night, 1974 the voice at the fountain is not helpless but hopelessly uncomplicated like a toy silver bell and its ring is not unfamiliar, but a vision that sings like a daffodil, or better yet, a kiss that evaporates from the dark corner of an eyelid like a [...]

Negative Space

Joan Miró, Pintura, 1925   it was the eve of the rebirth of the clock & 7 concentric shadows hung like a jagged shoestring & snatched up the light like a lonely severed tentacle {fortune is an excess of weight} it was a braid in the atmosphere a forger of form & sanity chiseled from [...]

Sandman Express IV

Read Sandman Express, Parts I, II, and III. i never imagined it would all disappear this way, a grove of floating oranges and sapphire giraffes, an acre of magic grass that shone like an eyeful of diamonds out the busted windows of the Sandman, that harbinger of technicolor dreams, while the old hippie wizard and [...]

Lo Dive

it was never more important to remember the rose, the way it crimped in her hair like an afterthought pruned with the blade of a cruel shoulder like a little neglected wing or a misshapen song unless my eyes were lying the instant i saw her perched on the fingertip of the morning like a [...]

Reluctant Memory

in its simplest form, the mouth was a giant puzzle piece a horizontal pickaxe that severed the sun from the whitewashed fields a cleft in the skull of a crystallized fantasy, a simple decoration, really, a wrinkle in the underbelly of a cloud where the smoke filled with mirrors and for the first time, i [...]