"I don't know why you say good-bye, I say hello."--The Beatles Things fall from the clouds. Things fall from thefloor. Maybe through, maybe all the way.Everyone argues for their homeland.Someday I'd like to hold your hand. I'mstill dreaming. I hope it continuesto rain…

Oryn led Ragnorak to a window. It was darkened in the corners with only a red light over the Nocturne.

at the front of the bus/ sways a white-veiled woman:/ gnarled hands upon/ a bag of palms,

Then there she is, and she makes me love-sad; it's a vehement, absolute, hard love-sad no one else needs to understand, though they can see; it's an emotion so concrete it's felt from the chest, not from a tenuous concept called heart.

The moon, a cataract cloaked in its charcoal fog, slowly seeps among the trees; night's unguent.Its glance is constant and white,its arc known. I watch its brow of bone with constant wonder.The long, slow funeral of America is taking its time; its…

and so I'm staying here where I am a little while (longer). Who knows where the time sleeps? I don't think I'll ever catch up with your heart again. That's the same lame novel approach I'm always stepping into to…

"A Social Worker develops programs to help feed the poor," she had said, "and makes sure there's a chicken in every pot. A Counselor asks them how they feel about getting the chicken. And a Therapist diagnoses and treats them when they start hearing

Between the commercials, the local news is rampant with fusillade of bullets going raving mad, driven by some Machiavellian brainfuck, or bombshells smiling down with angels in black; emoticons of solid metal and pride. But you would put your faith in…

You welcome the new girl by putting a message on her back. I breathe harder until she pops or until you ask me what I’ve seen or until you see my hand turn into a fist.

The arid paramour, your breath is hot, dry, cedar. I sweat you corpus fluids and salt and the unnamably impure.

There are no risks left to take. The notion of solitude hums with happiness. Bees gather particularly good honey and a hurricane stops suddenly, deciding not to embark on its natural terror hunt. And I just keep avoiding the knives, the pills and the…

"Do you kiss all of your models?"

From this fundamental simplicity,/ houses, cities, regions./ A nebula stretches across the grid.

i waited for the moon last night for hoursfell asleep with the record player on and dreamedof rain running downgutters of sea glass housesthe sun nudged me awakeand she served me toasthe's not serious,she saidhe's half baked,full of…

the odd stone stands/taller than trees/it protrudes from the young forest/an old mecca but smooth