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In December of 2003, Daniel Arredondo succumbed to his years long battle with colon cancer. If the name is unfamiliar, you're not alone. He did not answer to the name Daniel Arredondo. For most of his life, from seventeen years old to the end, in fact, he went by the name…
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Jane knew what to do
when she heard murmurs in the ceiling,
knew what to do when she struck out on the moor.
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Stay tuned for my next short - Candle Smoke Wishes - COMING SOON ON A MONITOR NEAR YOU!!
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He then spent his walk home to his single apartment spitting up various textures of red, combinations of cherry and blood mostly.
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We entered the castle at dawn. The dim light feebly illumined an array of antiques and medieval weapons. Bats dangled from the high vaulted ceiling, enfolded in membranous wings. What were once chandeliers radiating light were encrusted with webs and the ancient wax…
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At some point we all reach the end point/
of something. Something important/
if only to our fragile self esteem.
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As the music concludes, I'm finally in control of my emotions . . .
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the bodies of the poor become/
a simple logistical problem,/
disposable as any gnawed bones
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I was watching the bustling crowd below, sipping on a teacup full of Victory Gin when the scream, no a howl, cut through the murmuring of footsteps and telescreens.
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Being an uncredited bonus composition, written in the sublimest access of divine afflatus this poet believes his lyric verse has ever known. “In olden times, dark was not counted fair”: Those were the words, I think, of some old poet. …
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The county sent two crews, one to get Mr. Meyers, the old shut-in, tall and affable, but quiet and bent, like a crooked coat rack with a porkpie atop, the other for his dog, an english setter whom he shadowed like a familiar. I say he was the familiar and
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blackberry pie and huckleberry wine and litte Maria with her summerset bangs
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I like it best when I wake up
And the wild rain of dreaming ends.
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You can tell your doctor the truth
Even if no one else will stop and listen
He or she may have a balm for it
To help make it go away
Or at least go into remission
Remission is the staging area for Lies
Corporate and otherwise
We don’t have
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In my 14 to 15 year old life in the late 50s I worked as a clean-up boy in the neighborhood butcher shop up on 5th. Ave.,
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We can’t just bomb Berlin or Dresden,/
Nagasaki or Hanoi, to make things safe
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"It was one kiss. No tongue. What does that even mean?" Lindley tried to see Leah as any other patient, "What do you want it to mean?" "I don't know," Leah whined, tears welling, "something, maybe. You know I hate surprises." Her sister was not another…
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Compartments trickle together/
in light diffuse and unreliable./
Fortify yourself against the day.
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They called him “Albert, the Human Armadillo,” and he was. Rows of hard scales ran down the course of his chest, and he was studied and biopsied by doctor after doctor. “Psoriasis,” they said. “Or, eczema.” They prescribed ointments and oils that left him
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In the summer of 1963 I went to Philadelphia to study with a member of the Philadelphia Orchestra.
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I attended the burial of our affair when I found the notebook-maybe it should be called her diary-she had foolishly forgotten, leaving it on the deck of my beach house where she stayed while I was on that short trip to Chicago and I was numbed at first, unsure how to…
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This time the mountain climber does not attain the summit.
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We are the same shits/
we were in the Bronze Age
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Two women are escorted to the desert, where they are shackled to the ground. Who are they, what have the done, and will they survive?
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The cover features Lincoln as a woman. Lincoln as a woman is not a thing of beauty.
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the sun is quiet like the mountains,
the birds except for their wings
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Pale like a tracing of a memory
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