the story and the metastory always, it’s about her and about her knowing it’s about her so much kindness in her voice, arrogance only specious in intentional vacating of previously occupied territory ceded to the opposition transactional analysis, used to good effect upon mountains of regret and underneath umbrellas … Continue reading "fourteen times"
My father was both an painter and an accomplished classical guitarist ...
by slow intense apocrypha she let herself be known; he tried to see the bigger way, but soon his mind was blown out of proportion, everywhere; he’d lost his stock-in-trade — by slow intense infatuation his last bed was made
Learn how new The old new things seemed, And understand the veil That hides us from ourselves We’re all dropped into The middle of stories, We all have roles With inconsistent characters When the lights are flashing And the music’s pumping, We move because That’s all life is — Sometimes. Did you once shake The … Continue reading "The Electric Runabout"
at least a record exists...
she drank him like her favorite bedtime drink the party down the hall was overplaying blink 182 and he was johnny walker red down to his curling toes and bent like fortune’s favorite twigs they rode the wind the blast the everlasting bit of neverlanding planes that skim the surface of the runways that could … Continue reading "bent like fortune’s favorite twigs"
i somewhere loved where you beyond as elbows scraped against the clouds and seldom echoes skimmed the pond as showed off they their final shrouds i do not rave or scan the skies for last you night the score was known; as where the we storm rages, cries, sits one some we you i … Continue reading "somewhere, beyond"
i kissed you once out here beside these trees, and in soft regret your eyes were turned inward, towards that part of your life invisible to all but, or even and, yourself but the memory is not the kiss, it is the look and the feel of your face as i touched it, brushing the … Continue reading "… full of words and tales"