Architecture
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Glass of Atlas
Those bad mojo memories Coming back to foil and kick A decent day turned down low Shadow records play in the dusk-lined room One lonely bed, one lonely chair, one lonely window Views of the widows on the walk Black dresses and veils Black roses, black nails Thinking about the dark side of the moon… Continue reading
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Broken
Broken window puffs off the path. The dander of anger shaken from the tree limbs of devastating life. What being am I? Where do I exist? The red clam-colored house in the woods. Ancient two-story architecture. Humble seeds scattered upon the portico. Hazy windows with shadows inside. A bandolier of broken trees, broken dreams, broken… Continue reading
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The College of Cannibalism
A skirmish of desire I fight the voracious appetite of distraction But I eat myself alive Like in architecture school The room, the windows The drawing tables The long walk across campus on a fall day I never fit in Especially when they asked me to disrobe A study in free-hand drawing To loosen the… Continue reading
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The Inappropriate Architect (2)
She didn’t know where to look the moment she stepped inside Fidel Architect the architect’s glamorous home and its modern mid-century rustic vibe. Her head nearly twisted off. She was stunned by the indoor waterfall and the size of the kitchen and all its shiny toys to cook and clean with. “You really live here?”… Continue reading
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The Incandescent Valley
“That Capitalism is a prison for most of us. Everyone should have access to the same basic necessities of life… For free.” Continue reading
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The Swimming Window
And there were orange baptized bullets lodged in a wall of sea salt adobe and skull, a hard skull of architecture burned and bandaged the sun was far too bright as I dug them out with the tip of a knife and I was suddenly cursing the violence of Southwest sweat and artificial love and… Continue reading
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Anti-Architect
At 32 you’re not 24 anymore, and at 43 you’re not 31 anymore, so said the Jack-O-Lantern out on the porch, waiting to be bashed and smashed onto Cockleberry Street … and it was the invisible night all breathing out there with a chill, I can feel it through my open window even in November… Continue reading
cereal after sex 