“Imagine a Shakespearean scholar coming upon an undiscovered work by the Bard. That’s how thrilling this is."

Something about shadows and last time and driving.

Rosey streaks through the city, dragging a flooded umbrella.

"...innocent butterflies of pollution trapped and entangled,"

I blame the fucking mosquito net.

I want you closeI want to feel youinside me,softening me untilmy borders are blurredand I'm hardly breathing,my heart swellingso big itbrings me to my knees,I want to know thepain of losing youeach time youclose your eyes andgo to sleep anddream of someone else,I want to…

I have never seen doubt on the face of a Roman general,' he said, ‘but when you looked at me and said “I know”…that was a certainty I'd never encontered. You have crossed the Acheron twice.'

That’s true, you know, what they said about the drummer and spontaneous combustion.

a song jolts my memory . . .

Vibrations of a cavern a mile beneath silver willows.At two in the morning beyond the Sheratona lumination of pollution intercedes realism.Cardinals and doves develop their melodyprogressively caught in beat/heart echoes,as with spelunker canaries fluting noxious gasa small…

Every morning, Wilma's husband Richard would cross the street and visit with a neighbor, always after the neighbor's husband left for work. Wilma was a loner, never bothered with neighbors. She enjoyed sitting on her patio in her lounge chair,…

The days cut off by damp chill with every thought a different variety of protection.

...the fatal bleeding-out of the love receptors. They call it “Juliet's Tears.”

I haven’t read many of them, these poets that they speak of – Whitman and his Leaves Of Grass, Mary Oliver and her wild life

The jewels were dragonflies, buzzing lazily, Beelzebub’s hair a golden meadow.