Sandman Express

Original artwork by T. Blake it was a muddy winter and the trains were always late i was heading west of the city— i was sure of it—by the gaps on a map i found in a dream under a forgotten stagecoach just south of the old diagonals, it told me, west of a buried [...]

The Purple Peacock

it was a full moon somewhere and we were taking off the top of the world, eyes fixing on an uncertain point east of Venus and counting five men, six women and the sky swimming like a dove to meet us, air thick as silver i ended up there by a pull of the hand [...]

The Wolf

it was half-past the time of day when no road was the right road when all the churches were empty and the blues lit up like a highway over the dank southern sun vibes on the street had me feeling like second hand news, the way the sun beat the tile the steel breeze, the [...]

Wild Card

Original artwork by T. Blake the night was broken, as we know, and what was missing was the blood-pink moon i asked a star for directions, on my way due west, i could not say but by the eyes of the owls was led down a staircase that spiraled to the cellar of the earth [...]

Supernova

This post is formatted to reflect an original journal entry. 1/9/19 Spent most of the day working on a poem that hasn’t fully formed yet. Best thing that happened today: I acquired The Legendary Christine Perfect Album (1970) for my vinyl collection. Post-Chicken Shack, pre-Fleetwood Mac Christine McVie. Gritty, bluesy, fun listening. Finished Huxley’s The [...]

Blue Elephant

the morning is flat and has a face, a two-pronged smile and a trunk full of gold, eyes cutting like electric diamonds through the haze the sunrise is magnetic and has teeth, i awaken sharpened and ready for flight, a horde of feathered blue elephants painting clarities across the sky i rub my eyes and [...]

Lo Air

And the day was a man With a beard for a bird feeder A caved-in spine and a forest for a mouth And the night was a wave, broken and blue, A somersault between my knees Lo air, lips, and two half-parted fingers A roomful of glass beetles, like three dozen departed souls Winging their [...]