Category: Reflective Light
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The Caspian Tea House
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 the woman’s glasses at the Read more
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The Bottomless Inkwell
What is it about this disarray of life that eats at my guts on a hot morning in July while I stand in a sauna of soap and bleach in the kitchen of the Silver Taco Café in a town in the desert that has no right to be here. I throw down a white Read more
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A Boxer In the Dark of the Car
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 the lemonade in the glass. Read more
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The Boy With The Spanish Bayonet
Her cactus bed smelled like butter nectar. She swears that lying down on the thorns helps her back, yet all the red marks there on her skin, looks like she was nearly eaten alive by fire ants. Fire ants. She remembers the hot summer day when she was maybe 12 and she was playing in Read more
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The Tepid Hemorrhage
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I am an anonymous donorspreading my seed of grief across the worldand I might as well be blindfor all I see is black,the rubber room menacerotating on some wobbly wheeland my gifts have all been opened by other peopleand I sit and watch in a pile of gold paperremembering the uncle who shot himselfthe cousin Read more
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The Hip and the Cruel
There’s a super fresh reality percolating in Albuquerque Nob Hill groovy pubs Ruby red placentas in Placitas fall from hospital skies of red brick, brown and gold and sexy satin flesh fresh as newly fallen snow on the ultra-hip Sandias cruising on Central, Montgomery or Indian School to smoke the city lights with the hobos Read more
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A Tussle with a Tassel
I just kneeled before that hearth of red brick like a monk and watched it flame up, curl, and finally turn black and tumble to ash. Read more
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Mutual poet rant upon a muzzled moon
The mutual poet and I wrapped our scars around rainbows like barbed wire cuts of rust wrenching the tears from the colored spine like lemon juice or the salty water from a baby’s crushed ice face. The mutual poet and I stayed up all night, for three nights, maybe a week, we couldn’t sleep, but Read more
CEREAL AFTER SEX 