Category: Imagined and Real
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You can’t say “write like magic” It isn’t right to be so tragic And Nob Hill hip And Q-Town super fresh So write like magic despite the tetherships of the world I ache to conjure up all the words I need for literary architecture Why doesn’t my mind simply bleed?…
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I was in an Azerbaijan tea house at the shore of the Caspian Sea. The house was soft in texture and made of orange wood and white curtains. I went to a large window facing the slow, curved road and looked out. The water was the deepest green blue, like…
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I feel like loose wires blasting Electric impulses heavenward My skin is shaky I want to run, but I can’t move I start to do something Then I stop My thoughts fall flat My attention span spans a second My nerves are cut open, exposed Noise sends me stratospheric Aggravated…
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What is wrong with me, I wonder. There is this desert of thought. Dry sand blown by the wind tossed about all whimsical and deceitful. It moves like purple gravy in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now. I think I may have forgotten how to write in cursive. No one…
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The street was wet with rain and warped neon. I stepped into a bar and lounge called Cucumber. That’s it. Just Cucumber. It was just me and my raincoat. The place was loud, and I worked my way through the nightlife haze until I found a small table. I looked…
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CEREAL AFTER SEX 