I enjoy various structures and themes using words to explore textures and facets of my experiences, supported by images I’ve captured.
Silene capensis
I always preferred to be a
day tripper so my
excursions wouldn’t blend into
the milky twilight.
No more than synaptic
connection, you rudely intrude into my
sleeping-pill dreams.
My eyelids flip open
and my bleary eyes are
startled by the starkness
of the lonely wall.
Cobalt Blue
To thumb the nose
–or to anesthetize with cocaine….
… A spiritual regeneration (believed to be due to goblins).
To cry aloud, roar
For a deep dish fruit pie.
Empty Toolbox
crisp static silent
dead? paralyzed centipede
permanently still.
The Things We Know
I know where the Mirror Lady Lives.
Petite pink sweater, rack of Keystone Light,
and a fistful of lottery tickets.
The strange one with the steadfast stare. They say
“Narcissus was the humbler one.” She walks.
Far more curious than Alice with no
shisha-loving larva to teach her the
way. Who shares in her spoils? She keeps her gaze.
She owns the streets– a solo voyager.
Mirror in hand with no hooka-smoking caterpillar to lead her astray. Her
rack of Keystone Light, her lotto tickets,
She knows all she needs is in her mirror,
and, me, I know exactly where she lives.
Disco Noir
