She said she could sing and I believed her. It was easier than having to hear her demonstrate her vocal tones. From the back of the car she pounded her fists against my head rest, laughing, the sharp points of her heels digging into the vinyl that covered the driver’s seat. “What do you want […]
January 4, 2012
“She lived in cosmic language, an unknown and haunted mouth speak. And she was fury. A blur of oiled hair and blood, milked skin and arms of muscled rope. This wasn’t love, no. This was a great and wide-eyed drunkenness on the female in general and all of the hallowed places a summer’s sweat can […]
December 16, 2011
On her refridgerator was a small photograph that she had taken of herself, in the bathroom stall of a neighborhood bar. Cramped and sitting down, you can make out a blurred shape on her lap, black or brown, arching like a small bridge from leg to leg. “Who’s that?” “Me.” “No, on your lap.” “That’s […]
June 27, 2011
Dreams come in sparks. Ignition. Recoil. Wake. Someone dies, always, in dreams. He gives me his phone number and we talk. What we talk about are his dreams. Not dreams as in heartfelt fantasy, but his shut eyed coma-state. He’s on. “On” like a television is on. A radio. Human broadcast. “There is no future […]
February 28, 2013
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