-
Archives
- May 2023
- March 2023
- February 2023
- January 2023
- December 2022
- November 2022
- October 2022
- September 2022
- August 2022
- July 2022
- June 2022
- May 2022
- April 2022
- March 2022
- January 2022
- December 2021
- November 2021
- October 2021
- September 2021
- August 2021
- July 2021
- June 2021
- May 2021
- April 2021
- March 2021
- February 2021
- January 2021
- December 2020
- November 2020
- October 2020
- September 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- June 2020
- May 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- December 2019
- November 2019
- October 2019
- September 2019
- August 2019
- July 2019
- June 2019
- May 2019
- April 2019
- March 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- December 2018
- November 2018
- October 2018
- September 2018
- August 2018
- July 2018
- June 2018
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- February 2018
- January 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
-
Meta
Monthly Archives: September 2022
Succulent
Moonlight is edible. If you don’t believe me watch the mouths of children at night.
There is No Curtain
Forever and ever is the asking price and promise the singer made to the song conjugal atomic bliss siring the I that right now is speaking singularly on behalf of the song and singer forever and ever.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged endless love, i and we, poem, Poetry, song, song and singer, we go on
Leave a comment
Born Blues
I am the foster child of rampant insular lyricism. In it I was raised wild and came meekly to regard the moon as a shotgun blast from the mouth of eternity. I, setting core to task, get greedy, rabid, blood … Continue reading
If This
Our destinies are molecular, charged. We gravitate. Toward this and that. Other things. The bond between song and singer is immaculate proof of serviceably attuned you blameless as the blue lighting of the first moment when the multiverse sought seams … Continue reading
Tender is the Night
Posted in photography, Poetry
Tagged Jazz Age, New Mexico, photo op, photography, Taos, the writing life
Leave a comment
Round Trip
There is a slow lasting burn on the road to heaven which admits meekness as a course of rightful inheritance, as a ringed torch song for reentry into the self dispossessed.
John Biscello 