Rib Nite 2Pig Bill, usually a bear hug guy, comes over, shakes hand, shakes head. No bear hug, Pig Bill? The air fills with talcum. It follows him everywhere. He reckons it adds mystique to the place. Nothing doing, he says. What's this? Tickets for tomorrow's gig, he says. It's a no-goer. And, again, shakes … Continue reading Moon, mentioned.
Had he never misplaced the mojo, he may, he reasoned one evening, have been able to keep a keener eye on his star. But, he sensed, it had fallen. He came to this late. Drew scant detail. Reason, as such, eluded. He dreamed a nearfuture pocket of his being patted. Mojo? He looked up in … Continue reading Dim Star, Mojito & Mojo Rising.
“Come hither” is the pylon’s dare. Its hum is above, beyond & everywhere. “God forgot this pallid scratch of scrubland.” "So, stare me down,” I say. It shrugs its shoulders & bares its teeth. It tongues the air. It thumbs me. Unrelenting, this autumnal glare: low sun & tree bark, hidden. There is … Continue reading Come Hither.
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