ndifference

White castles Set the scene in Vienna, Rome Tripoli - countryside cities. Restaurants in the shade. Men in shade With white straw hats, the sun curve Of the day, and buzzing of motors on Rocky cobblestone. Family visits an old man here. A hearty dinner, the sun a shine on the glass. She says tell us something Like you used to. The boys poke the ground, Fiddle with the earth, Before he sighs. Sighs, speaks: Columns Contract, The dirge splits, spoken Ramparts, assailed corridors. Degraded anarchs in the veins. I hear Fire. Random chaos in The voi- voi- Void. And the entry read: 'Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate!

The Lyrebird and Writing Desk It is a frightening lung, a not-quite-natural red swell beneath feathers, that grates like a shaken sack of nails. This bird is a chameleon of voices, modulating its shriek to whatever frequent note might rise through the trees. Today its cry has become the gargle of splinters and split wood: the chainsaw's growling melody. In my own climate, adapting to the shift of pages and their stains, my voice strains; I almost crow.

art deco fruit punch spouts, The Garden of Ethel. but if i keep my mouth open, will the sun rays damage my sunbathing throat gums and ridges? Why do the palm trees slouch? Why can i see the creases and wrinkles between the obvious puzzle pieces that construct this constant blue sky? God: Ethel was fond of her slender ember sticks and she passed by        way of emphysema. This world is the fallen eyelash of Ethel.        A woman's flawed life and the sky cracks mark no sympathy.

Cave Fish --------------------------------------------------- Once I swam, weightless, In a red-gold sea both vast and small A sightless cave fish tethered Light and dark, both were warmth to me. Once I swam, kicked, spasmed, A sound like waves, two heartbeats colliding, And then an inexorable tide pulled me under, Drew me out, and I began to scream. Pain. My tether cut, my memories poured out I forgot in the fear of being cold and alone For the first time. I forgot and breathed and slept and dreamed, A translucent veined cavernous sky, Of liquid breath and lost gravity, Lost every morning as I woke. Until one day as I opene

What if Adam just plain lied     And  Eve        with apple juice           Running down her chin Just     let    it    slide Is the whole story  a hoax A different mother                    than Mary                        No father                           Son                             Holy Ghost Was Lilith really all that bad             She  just wanted to be free                  The desert is hard on Mustangs                              And her man was not handy Was Mary really a virgin          did Joseph just herd the sheep Did Mary feel passion         desire            her body eternally saved  

Peals of my heart infused words into ripe coffee, Thoughts lag behind two eclectic smiles, Trapezing back and forth With the man in the corner, Rounding into a plum Quiescent ink dispersed into my pen's shadow, Audacious whiskers from the arch of time Adorns two sets of stoic eyes, immersed with   Two Hundred-fold of sight, Raw upon wood, envisioning that sheath of skin, A tremor of wind nudged a shying page, his grin, Cobblestone fingers tapping to memories tune, Like fair palms of cream, I'm sure, once performed, As Adolescent scrawls, reached Puberty, leathered Lips whetted with poised confectionary, Multicultured ants

a pick-pocket cigarette, first of the day, meets my lips    with the shock of the afternoon-daybreak sun. a single chance of impression, careless as the blurs    passing by, lands amongst the first to jump at it and when one's clever enough to see above the rest,    the maddening roar of everyone else is just enough to drown any incidental gleam,    dreams of what they should have been. now I sink in unseen corners, shroud myself    behind imaginary one-way mirrors, scribbling as fast as possible, capturing it all, save for    when I am far too lost in it; myself a victim. are these to be encyclopedic rolls of the tongue    like

//telegrama escrevo para te dizer que nasci torto no crescendo do céu químico, obsoleto pútrido como a manga do teu espaço escrevo para te dizer que sei de mim que sou dos dias e dos matagais das sombras frescas e dos sismos escrevo para te dizer que soçobro da cafeína para te dizer que te escolho dos rios, da calçada dos gritos dos taipais da sombra dos edifícios. -- i write to tell you that i was born crooked in the crescendo of the sky chemic, obsolete putrid as the sleeve of your space i write to tell you that i know from me that i am from the days and woods unsullied precincts and typhoons i write to tell you that