Barely rested, but with fevered beats beneath my skin, I drew her supposed aroma in and out and in again and all around this sleeping creature my world contracted and expanded; and I wondered of her dreaming. To pass the time I figured cracks, pretended craters, dead seas, frontiered charts across her ceiling. On … Continue reading Imagined Matins.
with the diligence of tailors, you and i gathered at our candlelit collars with a purr and a whisper and cupping warm hollows, saturday's stitches became sunday's seams. [handcut collage 24x12. 2020]
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.
[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)
"Bow low to the cello, French horn & bellows." Her songs barrel in the barroom beams. Her Samba unravels. She learned in the mirror the poems of Brazilian queens. The elegant prose, she hones all through winter, is wreathed in magic & music & dreams. collage & acrylic … Continue reading Barroom beams.
some memory of blue clay, of buttered gorse, jutting bayonet of flint, half-hidden, always just an inch away, this very, very evening, returned again, beleaguered, beached and batchelor: palm of secret, saddened gems. the following adornments remain abandoned on the tidal floor waiting for me to discover them - a glass of sand, a special … Continue reading hinge of laughter.
