there’d once been a towering tree out back tho not an oak nothing so sturdy of girth upon which to tie hopeful silk bows and I’d watched it for years gray and tilting in the warm summer the boy and I cast our slingshot stones into the center of its teeming deadness until one weighty […]
as children should
this sunrise doesn’t mind that I’ve survived tho I’m sometimes uncertain tho some mornings I hear the dim bells ringing I made some jokes for the boy last night I rolled around like a turtle flipped upside-down and he giggled all evening as children should “You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t […]
salamanders
I was a boy, lost in the wonder of small things, fallen in the shadow of larger things, aware, but unaware. Surely, the widening shade falling over the creek was from the trees, towering in watchful silence. It was a corrugated-pipe muddy-shoe oasis, running under a forgotten road, known only to the local children, the […]
cactus-tattoo kisses
“Let’s do a challenge. We’ll write poems. What topic would you like?” “There’s this line along your inner thigh. It curves inward splendidly, and the sun caresses the shadows there.” “You can’t write about that.” she’d reprimanded. “Why not? There are little hairs there, barely there, and I can almost feel them brushing against my […]
immortals
there will be some regrets when this is all over there will arrive a white-light epiphany a new truth, owned tho perhaps, merely remembered– that there isn’t enough time left to fix all the people we’ve broken and that the damage done has become irreparable as our time remaining melts over flat of the earth […]
a thing, true
There’d been a time when men spoke as oracles, carving night’s obsidian into black-winged angels with their words’ intricate precision, each fine syllable spilled of their rotten-tooth mouths, poetry, the teeming spit glistening upon the swollen round of their cankerous lips, their poems, incarnate, swelling with life, swimming with notions, gestating before born; we live […]
wondering on sunny Tuesdays
here, they mingle saunter, and sway these faces, known these memories, gray tho smudge-round cheeks wear clumsy blush amid the jostling mid-day rush a scattered gathering on bustling streets and approaching from shuffling alleys, meek tall-heel strides click, scrape, and writhe high notes sing their lovely hymns surly lows bellow haunting the booming hollows where […]
anyway, enough about me..
I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of. Charles wrote this as part of his piece, ‘an almost made up poem’. You can find the entire poem at the link below, as well as some detailed thoughts by a fellow wordpress blogger. I can […]
zephyrs of melancholy
small spaces I’d loved crawling into their diminutiveness as a boy building soft forts of pillows and cushions and blankets dark and private I’d fashioned a sanctuary away from the tall-sky that’d left us all lonely even the religious knowing– they’d been forsaken I could see it in their eyes’ reflections hear its shaking voice […]
Myth of Symmetry
It is this myth of symmetry, of which we are given to subscription, on which inclination places its burdensome yoke, from which we learn the impotence of equity, and in which we, ultimately, find our disheartenment. This queer belief that each side of the equation finds solution, its value, in balance, is human, computational error. […]