I’ve spent some time over the past few weeks researching sensitivity. As it relates to perception, creativity, and emotional regulation, including experiences of stress, anxiety, and overwhelm. I was also, if I am to be honest, looking for some reading on the real advantages of being a sensitive person. I mean, being sensitive might help [...]
Specific Gravity
with a knife like that you’re often guaranteed success dangling from a mirror with a foot of broken glass whose was the voice that begged us to undress with the whole world watching that in a sweating handful of candy-apple hips and toothpick arms and melancholy breasts like hardened pitchers of clay, thumbed our eyes [...]
Flight of the Paper Birds
someone has carved out layers beneath the bone and erected a building without interruption the steady seed of a self-made fantasy concrete acid maze cool junk cartography of a consciousness never born to rise like rows of sitting mirrors that shattered themselves with noise [awareness is a bird of truth catapulted by the reflection of [...]
Sandman Express VI
Read more of the Sandman Express poems. except when he left it mattered that someone had stolen the barrel and plucked out the wood like a house of broken marionettes it was a scene that played out like a two-cent fiddle, a rhyme that never rounded the bend, an unholy landslide that broke through a [...]
Elegance in Circles
Salvador Dalí, Portrait of Picasso, 1947 tell me the entire face is mine, even the subtle interior, like a self-tied knot or the crutch of a malformed pearl that rests a weakened fleece on its forehead and tell me the riddle at the end of the nose is also mine sunny cranial jukebox sly rhythm [...]
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 [...]
