Flick the determined
grey beetle off the page
and its elliptical half
fortress trundles back again.
Fog billows over the spangled
banner in July like smoke,
like the Atlantic is of a mind
that’s hot and made up.
Dead Field in Memphis
Waving the evil thing before our eyes
This here’s devils work, he cries
Ma threwn it into the pyre
We was outside the skullteachers hutch.
The Bagavad Gita, the Tao te ching
The Talmud, the analects of …
The fact that he's rolling
down the old fear
through scraped, incremental homesickness
makes his intelligence a gunfire journey.
The skies cocoon phantoms.
Fifty jeers for the ninth wife,
who asks walls about the inferno in a…
Blind Séance Sears
..........Disordered blind seer’s sight: meaningless pen scribblings and cave scratchings shredding all material gains & guns to nothing, the bright sun also rises & the black morningstar also sets, one…
The engine stops. Water the only sound
Lapping against the wooden hull.
Wrapped in the autumn night some squint
For the shore, for the light of Europe.
Below deck, those in crowded sleep bob
With the tide like hope bobs in…
The Sun aflame in the cosmic lantern bound/we are mere ghosts,
revolving, the flame surround/played in a box whose candle is the sun/
round which we phantom figures come and go.
Omar Khayann, Rubaiyat.
His hair spun in …
2016 has been one fucker of a year so far.
We lost David Bowie, Alan Rickman, Harper Lee, Muhammad Ali, Bill Cunningham and Prince.
We gained Donald Trump, noted hamster-coiffed misogynist, TV villain and Putin's biggest fan, as a…