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1. The motherless-fatherless God orphans the world in His own image, His experience, His own elevated thoughts. Yet He is unsatisfied, unhappy for His creation is not perfect enough. Even the little man with His breath-spark is an unfulfilling design, in tun dissatisfied. Everything has weight but nothing has fullness. …
Luna moths flutter in the captive night light of early December, strong, determined to mate their way to the electric crackle (invisible as a secret trapped in the soul) emitting from the machine in the eaves. Their disintegration illuminates the dark with ultraviolet pulses and heavy musk drifting to mouthless, abandoned mates, antennae feeling…
There is a certain satisfaction that comes with shrinking language and imagination to a rectangle, fitting black-and-white words into a prescribed length and width given human depth through inscription. The filled sheet of paper almost transcends its smoothness and thinness, its very blank expression and dullness. It reveals exactly what it is meant…
The lavender skin river whispered with a maiden’s call. Bonnet curls kissed her banks in a flush of forgiving tears for the trawlers bruising her mercy and calm, each departing an oily scar that dispersed in the flow, for the water is never mean this cold season to those that whip her …
1. If there is wild moving water there is a trout in it waiting for the cast, the whip of line in air splashing a weigthless fly on the mirror surface luring the rainbow fish to break the heavy air for the angler’s fantasia. 2. The Rogue…
The earth is black on both sides. The yellow bus taking the living away passes pile after pile of rubble, of signs that were once there: the Harley Davidson store, The Rogue Action Center- a nonprofit climate change group, the community bank - it’s vault the only thing standing. Indistinguishable from the ash is…
White and red roses defend the mother’s coffin: cherry stained, her interlocked hands in prayer draped in veil gauze, her gold dress the same she married in, as the procession of her children grieves in a black and white flow. In a black and white flow, each child lights a votive candle that…
The memory monster haunted Mavette on the platform, the gym, pass the graveyard, scolding her for leaving the tiniest remains of food on her plate, scourged her for reading that dirty Jew, Levi. The swastikas chased her in her dreams. In her hole in the earth the dogs and stamping black boots would pass…
The sand holds our faces. Every thousand grains forms a man, a woman, a child. Every millionth there is your mother- young, stunning, beauty mark perfectly spotted on right cheek. Every billionth adds a little weight, gray, tears and beaches of separation. Every trillionth might be the dirt blown away at…
