The coin, so little, the watch chain, the youth, the fading softening speech, each hand and finger, the panic modeled on your own eyes, the ashtray, certain stumps along the way, the long distance, the odd feather, the jazz rope gone,…

Mark Reep is a faded Polaroid oracle taped to the only unbroken window of an abandoned house in Ithaca NY.

She said “I have to go”, he answered with his eyes “Don't” and they stepped closer to each other in the kitchen, a step on the tiled floor, the remnants of their tea cold on the counter top.

Study decay, says the Queen of the Underground.

Emi stood up and turned to Mayumi. She did not know what else to say. There was a sense of helplessness.

Art books, paintings, antique chairs, marble tables, full length gold gilded mirrors, oriental rugs, tapestries, a Louis XVI painted French armoire, a wrought iron Deco coffee table, flat ware, silver flasks, mantel lamps, iron gates, a silk settee, theat

“You look strangely familiar,” he said, taking a drink and swinging his leg over the horse, landing on the ground beside me ...

There was an empty box on his facebook page asking to be filled in with, “What’s on your mind?” He thought. "Hair?"

I can’t decide whether I want to be buried or cremated when I die.

Three lines.

Somniloquies rise like the drowned . . .

Funny, funny stuff. She'll be here all week--be sure and tip your speech therapist!

A spire that had stood one hundred and forty years fell in a single second of the blackest day.

I fear my personal information travels the World Wide Web/ and mad Ukrainians will steal my name and wealth./ I fear the fiscal cliff and raising the ceiling on national debt./ I fear a death by taxes.

I made her a mix tape. It was revolutionary. Twenty-two songs she had to hear at least once in her life. I even drew some trippy drug-like designs on the label of the CD to make it seem more real. It was the ocean and the sun and every body of land balled up…