In an anxious stepping dream, a scruffy old pup (three-legged) said “Thank you” into my ear as I held his hand on the stairs. Down a flight (in the waiting room), all of the seats were peopled with cutouts except one that held my brother, arisen. Thrice as real as the cutouts and more real […]
~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.~
~It is so odd. This placement. To be here at this time. In this gang. It’s a mistake, I think. Not sanguine to the purpose. They are on their way out. I am meant for beginnings.~ *Art by Cole Rise
I tried a brush of camel hair for what it did to gauze Too brash it was to have a care and so it gave me pause Your marble eyes of gimlet guise demand a fine detail A painter’s hand an exercise in Art beyond the pale
stopped at a light i saw in slow seconds herself in bliss with eyes half closed in quiet crescents her hem in hand as if to shoo nipping cats watch the puddles dear you are out of this world but i pray for yours
Melting Man has the night terrors Malignant faces Pointing fingers Nodding to each other with icicle noses long hands and obscene gestures ~Man of the Melt~ Cover yourself! Fold ye down into the foam where mildewed spirits cannot roam Call ye spiders and millipedes home!
We come from the Sun,they say to me,from the wrong side of my ear.But why?Why for?I mumble in cotton.For answer,they show their hands,oven-mittened.See. See our thumbs.They are wide.Splayed and strong.We will gentle you,raise you from the gorge. Life is but a dream. *** Art by Michael Richardson
Is there a ForeverWho can scope the great mindA yolk in an eggThen what is beyond the eggMonkeys and typewritersad infinitumThink your deep thoughtsand they surely will write ‘emStories of ourswill be amber-ingrainedand lain among flowersall freshened with rain
Why’d I dream of Skinnygirl?She was hardened,with wise eyes and a smile for sale.In our yappy group,standing in the drizzle,we fussed and discussed,looking to trust.But she stood out,most quiet and calm.Our magic Ellie.Her pounds were 98.6Our linchpin,our Skinnygirl.
Lit the lights in the empty black. Spun off gaseous globes, quick travelers caught in the slow sway of their mothers. Some boil down with seeded airs. A witching’s then afoot. Hards and softs and liquids. Bright lodes to find and mine. And mind, next door- Venus is venous.
Aremyfeetofftheground 