At seven o’clock I brewed some coffee, waiting for it to finish, I stared at leftover pizza— I decided to eat straight from the box —like beautiful birds of old, or like the mouth of a miracle. It was now Tuesday. Standing in the kitchen, a lonely water drop rippled in the sink. The first […]Read more "Ordinary Tuesday Morning"
what is before us is only also how we perceive it * not everyone went to culinary school how can we expect gasoline attendants to suddenly eclipse among staircases? * dropping that kind of security is helpful more realistic with traffic but difference is an eye of pulsation steady uncompromising strength * learn to listen […]Read more "Lonely"
Where the mountains meet the highway, where people are tired and faceless, there’s a little house where smoke grows money. A place that’s sweet and homey, and the forms employed by smoke merge extremely sharp, to stop from getting lost. Sharp parts extremely urgent merge with smoke employed farms and the home, a sweetened place; […]Read more "Where Mountains Meet The Highway"
I hear the microwave spinning its blades of fan through early evening of moon-glow as it rises from over our heads and dips its tongue onto the surface of bed-clothes. Here we find a placement a house made of many shades, absent of shame, we retrieve silhouettes in the posture of her names simply by […]Read more "Inevitability"