Monthly Archives: May 2017
On the day October exploded over the city, an entire month spilling its guts to the grafitti of mass agitation, the trains stopped running, streets went dark, hobgoblins rose to the occasion, as did cryptic totems and obelisks which suddenly … Continue reading
They, the profane muses, Laurel and Hardy at a voodoo head-shop, serve as pillared repositories for the lasting remains of mortal disquiet.
Los Angeles, late 80s, the club scene. Jenny, Kirstie, Amanda, Trink, and Connor: The Young Nocturnes. Glamboyant youth at the razor’s edge between waking and dreaming. Stay tuned.
Shrouded in white fire, barred from true exit, she, a marvelous and fearful shudder, is torn mysteriously from dreams rounded by the sleep of babes fitted to gallows.
At the edge of a remote island, (sirens in the distance) modeling jigsaw scars, cracked veins, and an oily sheen, a fast fade dream, a scorched mirage, occurs every evening like clockwork. Walter, jangling his bell, shouting: Good Humor Man, … Continue reading
In transit, and in stillness, station by station, one chance moment out of a million and one lost, we see love, in a precious tangle, a flaccid melt, and we renew ourselves through the rumpled means of lives unmade to … Continue reading
Withholding, with intent, for so very very long, the mouth like moth to flame engaged the key to its lock, while the eyes watched her lover, bearing the scripted burn, drop to his knees, modeling a biblical take on crush.
By reign of pearls, a pin-up siren minding gravity to commemorate a slow-burn fade to mortal flash.
The skyscraper quartet of ladies peaking eyecandy to airshow, arches a vintage and puckered valentine to a city in love with its meteoric rise and call.
It is the first and lasting kiss of breathless lovers archived in a recursive loop, the stripping of cinema to its barest flammable proof.