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The earlier horror leaves DT a broken drunken man building smaller worlds within worlds, boxes within boxes, memories within smaller memories to keep the monsters from eating the shining he has left. - He is forever moving to the same room with different people. - “We are all dying”, he thinks, “The world is one…
In the rear view mirror he can see the specters.. - her upside down reflection scatter when a foot hits the puddle… - hear the notes of a trumpet solo popping thru the open red door of a jazz club… - remembers when they whacked his partner… - and left their footprints on his ribs..…
1. The biggest tree exists to neither swing nor sway, doesn’t wait for a strong wind to emancipate it from roots, to be turned into freedom papers to be torn up by the master. - The swing was created by the master, to exist until the limb snaps and the sway of blood to earth…
The bulldozers and jackhammers blasted the concrete away clearing it of water, aggregate, cement, tearing it down to the soil until it buzzed with reclamation, smelled of loam and petrichor, the release of geosmin in the stirring, ozone expelling with first lightning and rain, surface bubbles releasing aerosols like fresh baked bread from the oven…
The machine that replaces you and the one that ascends you will fight it out on the factory floor. - Ultimately, it’s another machine, the gun, that will save you from a lethal precision that can cut flies in midair. - Put a hundred cops between you and the singularity and you get one hundred…
Read More "The Singularity or Terminator: Dark Fate (A Movie Poem)"
Every touch is a devotion, every soft phrase a prayer to life, to continue living. - A nightingale, a dove gowned in heavenly blue a ministering survival chant. - Thank you and double checks are abundant. - They minister consistent kindness for they live among the blasted. - There is no sniping, no rivalries, just…
“Are you okay?”, my wife asks when I cough. - “No. I’m fine. Yes. I’m not”, I respond, - stumping her in the poetic irony of words that - encompass the yes and no and the in between. - She flips the finger at me and I return the bird to the nest. - We…
Doldrums, doldrums eviler than the devil. - The Cyclopes’ prism eye revolves around me in a mechanical chatter. - It calls out desires at night, a mermaid cast up on shore - that awakens with the caw of a thousand slaughtered gulls - sending me scrambling back to the darkness, - afraid to touch the…
“If you do not write or film”, the director wonders, ”am I alive?” - “What limbo am I in when the shooting stops? When my camera no longer holds the beautiful prism.” - His films stay the same, only he changes, exchanging the silver screen for glistening tin foil heated under with a match. -…
