Brand "X" , and ACME, poems and stories. Surreal, sappy, funny, horrific, and human.
Somehow Dawn I don’t know what to say. Or how. Feeling that I am on the upslope, not close. Not wrong. I want to be that hollowed space in the hackberry’s trunk, the calm of darkened light. And more. Some honey, dripped from the spoon. A house finch, fluttering. I will whittle my losses, […]Somehow Dawn... Continue Reading →
From the outside, a look through my window would show a room deeply darkened to a purpose. A face faintly strobe-lit in glints of grey. There are melodies that I can't hear, and beauty that I can't see. Don't mind the puerile smile. It is there to a purpose, too. *** Image credit: Man Portrait... Continue Reading →
In this day we lay- the world beset with harpies. Oh, Pandora, why? *** Art by John Williams Waterhouse
~Thinking I said something, I fell silent in doubt until a gravelly voice whispered the supposed words into my ear. I turned my head to the side and looked down a Dali funnel, fishing for an anchor to snag this faint, this float.~ *** Image credit to OpenClipart-Vectors | Pixabay
These small merciesought to leaven the days,I know.But the dustbin of me,now,runs on fumesand sees its own dryness.Double-dares the Devilin all of his highness. *** Image credit: pixel2013 | Pixabay
In 1964 my father put the entire family on a plane and we all flew to Washington D.C. It was to be a two week ‘educational’ vacation. I was 13. It was more than educational. It was a trip that framed my outlook on life. The experiences of the entire trip from Washington DC to […]Today... Continue Reading →
Once the eyes were closed,grey clouds were brought to boiling.Insular, all else.
I am of the cave Vying for creature comforts A thumb sucking babe
Everything gets thin Faulty ice on which we stand; the shields of the heart.
~In my mannequin dream, she walked with a limp and a clack. Lurched toward me with a doppler shift, as sure as a coaster's chain drive. Her face- a calamine complexion, flytrap lashes, cheekbones of rouge pasties. And I, rooted, felt the come-hither hell of china fingers.~
AreMyFeetOffTheGround 