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Litter
Yesterday, I came across another blog I’d started then abandoned. It’s only a couple years old, and I have no idea why I gave it up and started this one. They may even have overlapped, I’m not sure, I haven’t looked. Anyway, I thought I’d move some stuff over from there to here. Here’s the…
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Fly
The world is defined by the dregs dying at the bottom of your cup drowning in the cold, left behind by your apathetic inability to do something as simple as change the filter –dumping the new, coarsely ground by some half-assed industrial machine on top of what was left from last time, stale and bitter…
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June 10 2014
When I found you, the days were short, just starting to lean toward the solstice, gathering up the warmth from the sun and hoarding it away from the dark Moon-chilled, we built an empire out of the stars.
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Coffee and Books
Hello local friends, just wanted to let you know that my last book, Object Permanence, is now for sale at the awesome Allgood Coffee in Weaverville, NC, just north of Asheville. It’s hard for me to do any kind of self-promotion, so going in and talking to them about it was a pretty huge step.…
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On Waking Early
In this time of tiny creatures hands like pale spider legs trapped in amber, I find my breath is not my own, my melted skin has fused with his and there is one cell screaming for another every inch the sun breaks in he holds on tighter “mine,” he says muddy-voiced with sleep A year…
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Burial
I’ve held in my hands a thousand pretty deities and all the ugly ones Turned them over, inspected them for authenticity crushed their life out, saved my breath for my own resuscitation Buried them under mounds of ash from old deposit slips and torn-off clothing (the buttons, when they burn are worn out tires) and…
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Mannequins.
All these catastrophic mannequins decked out in their despair, cheap plastic mock porcelain limbs bent, paint skin cracked, lacquer smiles chapped and festering at the corners, vacant eyes trapped under wondering brows, smooth neuter breasts and balls bared under torn clothing peering out of spit-slick windows, greasy with the residue of the tossed out dreams…
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Scavenge.
When fragile blades split our fingers wide sliced the skin of our shattered chests in two, left us pale and eviscerated the sun crawled in and baked us dry the scavengers came- gave life into our bones and hearts and entrails feasted long and slow on ropy veins. And who we were bled out when…
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Children Drawing Stick Figures at Night
I don’t think it’s juvenile aesthetics alone and poor motor skills that make us as small children inclined to draw ourselves and each other as stick figures. We are accurate representations of who we really are this way: no distended bellies, fat with greed and gluttony and the taste of our own malcontent No misshapen…
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September 19, 2013: Running out of words
Here are some photos instead. They’re pretty much the same thing.
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April Fox 