the wardrobe in the corner, high, not quite to the ceiling. and, one night, napoleonic, a guardsman, there, crouched. black boots to his chin. arms wrapped around his knees. brass buttons, gold braid, red tunic. dust marks brushed the evening. sabre, trapped. scabbard, palmed and yellow skin. he is speaking the french language … Continue reading very faintly.
the thinner spectre of the two, serene and pale, half in shadow, from the creases of the curtain, floats a plaintive lullaby into the swollen greenwich evening. her song for sleepless children. 'a painted fort for poorly cowboys, a teepee for the squaw and chieftain, a mountain range of wooden blocks to ride, … Continue reading the moon before.
We rolled her up in a big blue blanket, belting the middle, taping the ends, and we bore her, between us, right through the town while everyone slept. The street lanterns pooled the asphalt but would not give us away. The shop glass, only fleetingly. The gutters blubbered and bubbled. ∞ Shush! Shush, the fossils are … Continue reading Aspects & Angles
Sam, his teeth scratchy yellow, leaning dangerously away from the table, on a chair stood on two legs, passes the smoke jar and says, “diamonds, dear Sidney, may well be a girl’s best...” He holds up one hand, clenched. Then the other. He gathers eyes. He opens the first fist and blows into his palm. … Continue reading Greyhound Suggestion.
unfolded sheets and cornered pages, cobalt, rising from the blanket, found a world within the drawer - everything unpainted. the velour shadow of the curtain, quiet and thin and barely moving, bows before the wounded evening - everything unpainted.
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.
