food for crows

gasping, gaping. Metastasis. It glows in the corner as a fire fly’s mouth. Deep molasses of a moonless Southern night. It has a need of its own. There is a name on the door but no one knows who it belongs to anymore. That seed was scattered and crop failed. Erasure, in gilded gloaming. The craft of wetwork still decorates some of old pine floor. l’satan lo. Obstruction, judgement. The weather vane is rusted in a westerly position. Adverse to meaning, this pain is still subjective. There was never a time in this place where the low dogs didn’t whine. … Continue reading food for crows

toothless but chewing anyway

antiquity of the river stone laid the path for moon dog and his fur abalone shone deep for the morlocks a line is formed the lion pales in the grove of Gemini many monsters for the culling a cut above a cut to sow find grains of sand in time to forget Laylat al-Qadr and first verses ne’er do well holds a basket of heads taken in times of caligosus ten for ten means nine in hand fingers curl to leeching trickery another way to pay for it single minded in form inimical amnesia bought cast out new yesterdays Whom … Continue reading toothless but chewing anyway

low

vertical, this vertigo pulling at lips dusky corners, beseeching. hand-me-down run-around doe eyes, darkness. timber, pine cinders wind the clock upon mantle counting time since before war or two for me, you. This diffidence is feral, infantile. Claim the field reddening grasses tattered flags, satin. linen you lie in hyperbole distance color of indigo weeping softly, so soft, as to capture whisper fine mesh chinois filter sound to only meaning. sagging braggadocio quiet politicos sign double entendre. Where now will your breath go? keep it slow. ever, ever so very low.   image courtesy of Pinterest         Continue reading low

something lost

adorn the lenses with smoky faced colliding kaleidoscope of rust and follicle tribes move west in harmony, nurtured by the natures of Pleistocene Gaia in full regalia turns the other cheek by dusk do go and in all fury upon winds of tidal tertiary swell with honey foe that brings life in soft supplication once cancer was bathed from body the rest(ing) is/was history know this mortal: omnia enim et voluptas vana gloria image courtesy of Pinterest Continue reading something lost

pedantic

pedantic the musing and meandering of formless thoughts etching themselves in the night a tomcat chasing his tail in the barnyard pat-pat-pat, sounds of falling rain dripping into a puddle outside the window of love and loss and candy drunk on obsessions of the never-had wooden crosses turned ironwood rose sheepish in their noble quality a kinship with the forsaken toys of Christmas past the artifacts of adolescence adults no longer care for crescendo pounding into the forebrain annotating the unthinkable transgression against the unknowable desperate for a companion’s voice meditating on the throbbing silence of exile it is a … Continue reading pedantic