Rubble Indolent days spent consuming history intentions and rubble strewn with careful purpose prepared me Pope-stolen marble Tracing the death of a language in churches erected on destruction Carry the cross and drape the flag An idea long denied, impossible now sanctioned A Borgia for America Fear, pettiness, vainglory The liberation of hate … Continue reading Rubble
August is the ending days. The weight of rain thick air straitjacket thunder dampering sounds Slow days of fading liberty
moving slowly through crowds hobbled by abundance an energetic loss of balance a happy absence of comfort unfamiliar details stare rudely a cornice chipped and dirty a door that doesn’t quite shut window lead neglected, maybe just unspecial passing stores charity shop says one next, communion shop and then Fine Suits all selling… Continue reading forced anomie
looking up between the ruins for stars swirling from the wine even in the heat i can feel the chill from the concrete enough to kill some nameless salt-mine bastard come winter Layers of lives most as discrete from one another as they are from us serene to be like the vandal unconcerned… Continue reading mortar and tuff
wrapping, roiling, fogging the porch a thick and heady murmur obscure and weighty memories of a child’s giggle the spring abides the sinews of reference, of context strain life proceeds
a stair a misstep a frailer me floating in air surprised body free the moment awaits dancing in the nothing forever
Kay required me to be still hard as it was when I was little be still and listen when it rained and hear it in the trees, bending the leaves, darting off the cars. Making a soft splat on the sidewalk And sussurance in the grass. Not just the ordinance of thunder but the tremors… Continue reading Rain
Forgetting you It’s a very simple thing to do It’s just will, some time apart, finding something new Forgetting it all A couple of weeks, just one fall Promises never kept, just some unreturned calls Forgetting your face There’s no moment or special place It was a small café, your smile, a kiss,… Continue reading Forgetting
\ Because of money that he only nominally deserved and the existence of which gave him embarrassment, J. has become, obliquely, a cheap son of a bitch. But confronted with the long line in front of the art museum on a cold morning, he decides to buy an annual membership rather than wait. After all … Continue reading Ekphrasis (working)
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