what i want my dear, is a flickering, a little leaping, oh, yes a prodding delicate as a nail, a candle only partially burning, a kiss on the tops of the ears and the drift of a nightgown thin as baby powder, oh, just a little look, my dear, a shiver of the eyelashes, a [...]
Tag: writing
Wild Thing
There’s something taking shape beneath the night’s long hair I wish I wasn’t there to see it crowns resting on the heads of all the devils two hips and a sewn up corset a valley like an open cage, a mouth with no eyes, and the lips of a wild thing curled to the toes [...]
Scarecrow
i had a dream i wrote a sonnet a fine piece of literature with lots of stupendous phrases and careful consonants that sculpted the contours of the vowels like a designer dress over a pair of thorny-eyed heels that punked all the literary critics at our nation’s **leading** institutions, including even the most pointy-toed professors [...]
Lo Buzz
This post is formatted to reflect an original journal entry. 11/1/18 I am convinced I do most of my best thinking in my sleep. Is this a terribly peculiar thing to say? I’ve gotten in the habit of keeping my notebook and pencil on the nightstand, within grabbing distance for bouts of 3 a.m. inspiration. [...]
Graffiti
what i need is a crayon so i can fill in all the gaps in the colors of the alphabet and all the numbers that code the bars of the graphs that tell us how old we are and how tall we should be and how fast our hearts should be beating and to what [...]
Footwork
This post has been formatted to reflect an original journal entry. 10/26/18 A cool, rainy afternoon and the end of a busy week. The highlight: seeing Lindsey Buckingham live in concert. I don’t believe I’ve mentioned previously that Fleetwood Mac is my all-time favorite band. Or how over the moon I was (and I was [...]
Flo On
the day’s a stale word the kind that’s afraid of an honest mouth (a thing so strangely made) a conversation like a broken arrow, busted wind and a tree of fire, death at the roots of the all the palms, and a half-flung syllable that punches like an empty fist i don’t know about you [...]
