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Love needs loathing like cold weather needs warm clothing. And all truths, untruths and part truths need a place to live when a mind gets too sardine-packed with information and cynicism...
Some say there was a time when the light was brighter, the ear
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I don't need to be toldhow natural you are, not here.I'm reminded every singletime I open my eyes.What I want to know iswhere have you gone? Whyhas it taken you so verylong to return? But Iknow the answer. You aresomewhere fighting for your dearlife. It's what we all do--in…
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I hear
the shriek
of the Laughing Lady
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Welcome to OTHERS. A place where I hope you will experience the enchantment of a time and place like no other
MATTITUCK 1971
LIKE YOU NEVER KNEW IT
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Is this a place to show posterity and mortality?
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Once there was a real honest to God holy spiritout there that was a gift of loving kindness meant for everyone to share; unfortunately, it was given to all the wrong people, or the wrong people simply stole it. Either way the wrong people are…
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The first days of October are ordinary in the way that milk just hours away from spoiling is ordinary milk. You can baptise your cornflakes with it, but part of you knows the whole thing is just shy of almost right.
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edge of wolf howls and howls past sunflowers and skeletons
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My uncle lived part-time in prison, in a cell with a blanket, pillow, and towel. The remainder of his days he lived in a small house on Prospect Street.
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Remember when we went to New York to take our test? We looked for cheap hotels near the test site, and there was the "Hotel Earle." Twelve bucks a night. The clerk behind bullet-proof glass, smiling a knowing smile. Pubes still on the sheets, but we couldn't sleep anyway,…
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When the hay was ripe it stirred and rippled like water.
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It was bound to happen. Even celebrities can only take so much. The constant comparisons to Christ (people still think He was born in December), assumptions that he was anti-Semite or anti-Islam, and accusations from PETA, now ad litem for…
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Times were tough back then. Just a few jobs. This was in the late thirties. It's the story of how Albert hooked up with Iris. Their unlikely meeting took place when they met out on the Highway 61 right-of-way just outside of Natchez, Mississippi, each trying to hitch…
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I have known a head become / a callus, matriculate, stop / shaving, move to Vegas
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“I’m making a dress,” she said, feeding the pages through the sewing machine.
He didn’t know how to answer. “Are those my books?”
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I clearly see the squirrels of
negativity all around me
or at least I sense that
they are there,
filling in the blank spaces
as I read down the page
prior to arriving at
the meaning of everything.
The greenness of figs
before they
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The snap of a broken heart is exactly One second longer than this poem is going To be when it finishes up being said . The snap Of a broken heart is unlike anything that Cartwheels out of sync with the rest of Us truly lucky ones. The broken snap of a …
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I was always more comfortable with the ponies than you were / more comfortable with betting windows and two-dollar bills than you were
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Meet Carl. He's six-three, two hundred and thirty pounds. He has light-brown hair,…
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Nothing changes; the moon arcs its mindful lemon eye. . .
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Tomorrow, they'd bury their daughter . . . and still, so many questions. Why would a beautiful fourteen-year-old choose for herself such a horrible, painful death? In life, she appeared the antithesis of suicidal ideation: excellent grades, well-liked in school and…
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Everything needs context, otherwise reality would be nothing more than stardust with a spark.
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He fell through her scalp-crust
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His name is Rick Reynolds. His name is Steve Redford.
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Let's start from the beginning. Your mother's face in the phone. Your parted lips. Your surprised tongue. Hands deep in the folds of your skirt. The poet filling your pockets with blue and orange. The poet filling your notebooks with slowly drifting fields and gramophones…
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The old man moved on an automatic wheelchair. He stopped just short of Sora. He waited for her to move, but all she did was shed one tear.
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I feel unlike myself, I think. I've been afraid of notebooks, pens, writing. I've hoped for telekinesis between empty pages and my mind. The hoping leaves me empty handed, and I have nothing to show. I feel unlike myself. I feel the whites of my eyes as…
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19. You never know yourself till you know the dust. 51. Treasures are the ligatures between our wants and love. 33. Truth is able to turn one's stomach.
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