The Child That Never Was Speak clearly, little man. Those curious eyes, know all I have forgotten.Remind me again, the place you came from. Your grip around my pinkie isdesperate. You are, I know, dyingto tell me about birth. I know, you’d killto see me reborn. I know, you’d birth me yourself if you could.The […]
The Child That Never Was Read More »
Dinner Next to A Caravaggio The quality of a human body,the tender flesh of a ripened pear,melts on my tongue andconsumes me,like the punch of a partyor the knockout of lust.It knocks the savage humaninto my core.The catastrophic picture of it all.The quality of a human body,invites me to dine.Figures, ancient, grotesque,a human subject flails
Dinner Next to A Caravaggio Read More »
The Scent in My Palm Bliss in the morning hourwhen a nose touches downinto a hand, soothing tremblesfrom aromas of a nightmarethe tinge of something smallinvestigated by the curiousman searching for a homeincense of a sweaty palmfound deodorant debrisor wrinkles on a bedsheetthe air from a windowpanethe static scent of subtle rain.
The Scent in My Palm Read More »