i imagine her, right here, in this room and i will dance beneath her moon: she's so intriguing. i wish that she would bend my ear. send some clue, some word, some whisper: something psychic. if this appears to be something that you don't wish to see, then i could disappear. but i … Continue reading UFOs I See.
she hands me a book and i say, i will return this someday (it's a line that people often phrase). i know that i won't, but i will lift her from the margin and the page and return the gift in different ways. i barely recall the tale's name but her hand, her footnotes, her annotation … Continue reading note to self.
All the guests had left the table, and indeed the bright room, to dance to a quintet that had struck up, with some vigour, a milonga out in the blue stone courtyard beneath the carved moon. Their chairs were left all at odds, scattered, vacated; pushed away from the table. Only the two of them … Continue reading First the milonga, then the tango.
Skirt gathered at her knees, chin on a table, she’s asking now something of the ear of a wild-bearded man. She sweeps her hair from her cheek. He appears not to listen. His black leather cowboy hat and bike jacket speak sinister wisdoms. There is a tiny gunmetal death’s head pinned, longtime, to the lapel. … Continue reading A Perfectly Good Table.
calendar (...always x) painted sponge electrical wire & foam trees rug grass marmalade glue model (model's own :))
[cut-up postcard poetry] [paper scissors glue] [fictional piccolo creative] I bought a stack of National Geographic at Southwell market from a man who sold old mirrors, and reworked frames, among other things - including, an accordion of pale spines: Nabokov, Orwell and Greene (clasped at each end in a heavy bronze palm); old slates of … Continue reading Jigsaw Cousin (it rained that night)