Binaries in the mine
fly through toxic air
for dwellers unaware.
Or not.
I am intrigued by how words mean when we imply that they do,
how they tend to break up across the rock of accountability
and in the soup kitchen of the unconscious.
Do you know what I mean?
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Talk-Over
You can’t hide the greasy irony
dripping too quickly upside
that warmed up talk-over
trashing the possibility
of someone speaking
something you don’t
already know.
dripping too quickly upside
that warmed up talk-over
trashing the possibility
of someone speaking
something you don’t
already know.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Threshold
Nancy writes herself
into existence
as her body
goes away.
Story beckons
through the threshold
of death borne again.
into existence
as her body
goes away.
Story beckons
through the threshold
of death borne again.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Nothing I Write
Nothing I write
appears to be
something.
I wonder if,
so transformed,
memory reaches
for a time
when the nothing
that matters
speaks.
appears to be
something.
I wonder if,
so transformed,
memory reaches
for a time
when the nothing
that matters
speaks.
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