Category: Memory Scrawls
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The rose bushes are plummeting upward My baby-blue sick guts Calculating out the time In a warp, a bend Of space all nonsense Geranium machines Rattling off methodical defense Bullet showers in the windows Curtain calls Charm and sun and blood The euphoric day of another world Take me to…
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I take a solemn tablet and wash it down with fury That spirited ache of midnight The moon breaking bones out in the hall All the unforgiving and unforgivable things Line up like cracked dolls The shelf leans left The audacious propaganda on red and white A clock still ticks…
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Drawing blank French bread on a typical Thursday after a harsh rainstorm. Sometimes I feel empty. Sometimes I feel as if my soul is an unbodied mortal shell, a cistern with but a drop of water. Whatever can I gather from that? This. Wayward thoughts. Banana leaves. Golden taco trucks…
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There’s something about lemonade in the summer that just hits me. Like right now, I can see the glass pitcher with the lemony yellow liquid inside. Someone is stirring it with a spoon. A glass full of ice cubes sits on the counter. Someone picks up the pitcher and pours…
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There was a dark, lonely road of dirt that led to a bright spot at the end. There were leaves, turned sour and clotted in the mud. The road was lined with black trees, leaning in, almost like an arch, and at the end of the road rose up a…
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CEREAL AFTER SEX 