Mosquitoes attach themselves
to the undersides of leaves;
their husks litter trees,
shimmering underthings.Children’s voices
unfold, always hungry.
They suck my limbs; their cries
bind my narrow bones.The sawed-off edges
of their voices splinter,
crack. Children...
Pain unravels slowly
like the filigree ends of a fern leave
unfurling in the dewy winter mornings
nature gives away the love
it stores and nurtures
Yanked from the freezer,
it doesn't resist, cubes dispersed
unevenly, one
side of the pale blue plastic tray
weighted down by a half-
Now you see them now you don’t. Scraping by. Yardwork of archival stock.
Paramnesiacs cracking the greenstone with gold leaf.
Even at Hotel Viking and Omni Hotel.
Disequilibrium and dictum in a rendezvous.
Sinking into the profoundest headbutt. Twilight on Hanging Rock.
An offloading of off-paths...
There’s a kind of music that
plays when the warm water
runs down her hair
I will never understand the world where:
The Life is the Death.
The Death is the Love.
The Love is the Lie.
The Lie is the Truth.
I never really considered my twenties until now. But here I am.
How can it be that I’m now old enough to be left for a younger woman? To have to attend a funeral on my birthday? To embrace apathy by fixating on work, which mercifully leaves little time for self-reflection at the end of the day (supplemented with weed at night to ensure dreams don’t...
I know the tidal pull of the blood; that a mere glance can send plumes of fire curling through the nerves. After J. arrived: the sudden, mind-controlling molecular saturation of pheromones in the air, a maddening inability to concentrate, to think of anything at all. Intoxication, situational insanity, delusion. An attraction so fierce it made...
Few noticed it at first, the initial wave of deaths. Perhaps there were a few less Deliveroo drivers clogging up the streets. A dearth of mocha-choca-calorie-free-free-range-organic-fairtrade-edamame-latte pop up vendors. A few less online quizzes.
He thought back to the motionless blue eyes and the almost inaudible crack of the skull as he stood on the pebble beach and watched the young woman’s body rhythmically emerging and then disappearing back into the waves.
He’s senile.
He’s a scene
I’ve seen
in Aisle C.
He sees the Nile
in Aisle C.
See the scene of the Nile
Seen on the isle?
See the sea
seen in Aisle C?
The sea near this isle
isn’t the scene he sees.
but the isle he sees
...
On Inception, Gaslighting and Trump/Russia: Or how Dirty Rubles Connects the Dots on a Story You May Think is Confusing, But Really Isn’t So Confusing After All.
Statement of Record