I.
The last refractions of orange sunlight through the windowpane glittered across the kitchen tile. The floor and windows shimmered. She cleaned them each week, as was her routine, with meticulous attention to the details of dust that settled into the shadows. Every Wednesday, in Tom’s absence, she took cloth and spray to every shape [...]
Archive for the ‘Prose’ Category
Like an Old Song
Posted in Prose on April 12, 2009 | 1 Comment »
And All Else Was Quiet
Posted in Prose on October 22, 2008 | 3 Comments »
The rain dropped heavy as brass or bullets on pavement that morning. The drops echoed loudly like a kid in underpass. In a town like that, the rain made everything quiet; streets were hushed, the rain was loud and black puddles bloomed up in the street. That town was nothing like a capital or [...]
A Holocaust
Posted in Poetry, Prose on September 7, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
A dying man is wide awake
in a metal womb, illuminated impossibly
as if by Leigh light.
In the surgical sparseness of a spartan hall,
stair flight to the left,
machineries buzz in imitation or contempt of life as he is lifted
from his womb and emptied harshly
on the floor.
He won’t make it;
he knows that.
An agent, a chemical, has eaten at his skin
and [...]
The Turncoat Tirades
Posted in Poetry, Prose on October 26, 2007 | Leave a Comment »
sweet compass friend of mine
your arms outstretched to hold me
in the West
I know something I wish you didn’t
your history
whose thousand years fled betrayals
and Christ figures on crosses
whose poets have gotten lazy
and redundant and redundant
or infatuated and now are scraping gum
your name falls dead on my ears
like the morphine news of death or failure
well, my prayer [...]
Memories of West Street
Posted in Poetry, Prose on October 17, 2007 | 1 Comment »
Walking down West Street
in the rain,
not uncommon or
spectacular,
a thought occurs that
I am not here
and you are all
ghosts
How much of you was
left of shoddy pavement patchwork
sewed-up salons left
in a heap at
Bob the Barber’s or
in withered piles swept off
the trees for collection
by the shopboy
We gasp at the naked Old World
cobblestones with broken
backs where full-bloom
suns perform
I smile,
feeling myself [...]
God Loves a Patriot
Posted in Poetry, Prose on September 22, 2007 | Leave a Comment »
I love a good time
and I adore my iron lung
gimme greys and beige and pales
’cause the spice colours burn my tongue
Yes, I love these
crushed-stone lots
may mountains give birth
to parking spots
Oh, I love my country
yes, a patriot indeed
I’m a fan of all the parties
since they all fanfare me
I don’t get your paintings and
I hate abstract art
you [...]
Dada #2
Posted in Prose on September 15, 2007 | Leave a Comment »
The wails of harrassed cats shine smugly through a wall gloating over kerosene. Tracks of bears run wild over redundant snow to conceal the notions of clocks and seasons galloping in audacious insurgency. Wings on ice glide as if guided by strings and even the stones are sucking back nitrous. Claws grow up from tree [...]
Sunstroke
Posted in Prose on September 15, 2007 | Leave a Comment »
The thumbs of heat press marks of permanence into opal skin glistening with fragility and brand the standing girls. Winds blow them down to one and I know her quite well. Ecstatic shudders crack filthy windows, morph slowly into hurricanes and tears. Down on parachutes, rapid bursts of sunlight rage through violence of the throttled [...]
Mercury Rain (Lightning Weather)
Posted in Prose on August 31, 2007 | Leave a Comment »
This piece is still in the embryonic stage and has been on hold for a few months now. I wrote it mostly in a week-long stretch last Winter and the paragraph arrangements are still imperfect. Keep in mind that this was written as a stream-of-consciousness exercise first and foremost and that pure expression took priority over clarity. Regardless, here it [...]
