Friendship is too small a word for this which we share, as has love proven too unsound a home for us, tho its russet bricks remain– surviving even our tempests’ furious bluster.
“All men want that..” “That is untrue. Some of us, or at least one of us, wishes only to know your nuance, those things missed, or disguised, and to learn the depth of one’s shadow; each with dimension, ’tis where we reside.”
I listened to some poets today, and the Mexican poet read a poem about prejudice against his people, and the black poet read a poem about oppression against his people, and one white poet read a poem about depression, and another hated most people, so he proclaimed, while one fellow read a poem about being […]
It was in a prior life, before the bustling din, and the empty ring of tin, before the restless rustle of concession’s sin. I’d been pure, or more so than after time’s cowardly compromise; I’d been the limitless possibility told of in faith’s fable. I was a sculptor. Gypsy tramps, and theater-mask molesters spoke to […]
The person in the mirror, made-up, polished, primped, and preened, is a fraud. That person doesn’t even exist. We are the mud beneath our fingernails, we are the grave from which we’ve crawled in defiance, we are what we have fought, clawing, to achieve. We are the blood on our split knuckles, we are the […]
This place, for writers, is a playground, its sharp edges removed. Though it’s on the playground where we first learn if we’ve any fight in us at all, and secondarily, which of our spoken principles merit perilous or injurious defense. It’s on the playground where our will is first measured.
Driving, the horse corpse in the passenger seat, stilled, tho its woeful eyes opened, I’d passed a small park in town, with rolling hills, too smooth and round for a heathen to set foot upon, and another where she and I had planned to meet, its wide lawn, flat and closely cropped, the laughter of […]
It’s too simple a thing to think of love within the tidy boxes of right or wrong. Neither truly exists; there is however, peril: both of losing love, and of finding it.
“To go unnoticed is by no means easy.” ~ Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guittari A quote, a thought outside of its context, displaced, a dark shadow frozen within the transparent water-wall of our tilting ocean of individual perspective, becomes a wave that shall never fall, never laying its weighty truths upon us, staying upright, defiantly, […]
We were told we could be anything, and look at how we’ve turned out. They never told us that we’d understand why people rob banks, steal, cheat, kill, and lie. They never told us that we’d understand criminality, while we riot with the sanctimonious incredulity expected of us— that we’d often quietly empathize. They never […]