Alinear Dissonance – No Talent For Certainty

the texture of the teeming earth is all the proof we need of lies; each second thought, a second birth, the sun, a way to cauterize the wounds that we inflict amid the casus belli of the day: the wager, always underbid, the silence, all we have to say.

alinear lunes (1)

the lost voice looked for in the white whistled chimes a pan of wan dread and blocked doors and sounds left to cry

that drowning feeling

swirling unspecified in the middle of a chaos poured from pitchers of deep rain cannons firing across the still december mourning for a lost adulthood framed by a little used childhood endeavor just brings sorrow what if i can't do it what if i'm not enough what if i what if what

blanking —

all the hammer blows. tractile and malleable — incessantly down. bent, shaped and worn complanate longing for rest. — relentless —

Forested

Ninth-month tremulous Harbor intersecting voyage Sharing appetite

by products

A meditation on our role in the choices available to us

the 7th sibylline utterance of the new millennium

the gods demanded sacrifice, and so we offered tolerance it’s not like anyone was using it that much for what you can’t destroy, you still can lock away we do that now, in every manner those words can be stretched and how we torture words, to make it seem as though we mean the things … Continue reading

at the margin bleak

a white powder day, the buzzards swarming in circles above an inadequate dissonance finding winter across bleak margin, and a cross above frightened bushes huddled for warmth it is a winter’s choice that must be made in every season: to carry on, or be carrion

[…the space between infinities…]

The masters of the universe The mistresses of pain The fortunes of the other folks Their houses down the lane A passion for veracity A cavalcade of fun A phone call in the dead of night To be the only one An afternoon of pleasure spent An instant on the way An overarching sadness that … Continue reading