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Meta
Monthly Archives: November 2025
Daybreak
We forget vividly. Absence glares and ghosts inwardly, a brutal slate of charged pixels. We find ourselves shrinking and recoiling in the hospitable siege of light—projecting, wanting, myopic as the day is long. We question ourselves. We are changed. How? … Continue reading
Where the Sidewalk Ends
To no longer have memory is to exist in a state of vulnerable grace. It is the tenuous grace of having to function in the immediate present, the source of our greatest agitation, without referential orientation to archived past or … Continue reading
Night Gig
It is extraordinary, absolutely extraordinary that the world can end yet people will go on living. As if they never got the memo: World Over. Perception is an absurd gambit. You never know what you’ll see and what … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged excerpt, fragment, mystery, night, night watchmanm, story, warehouse, worlds last imagined, writing
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Girl in the Dark, Twice
1. A girl in the dark, in a corner, spitting out sunflower seeds, spitting out sunflower seeds into the dark. Pppfft-pppfft, the sound her mouth makes when spitting, and the barely audible plip when the shells hit the … Continue reading
Causeless
We used to be called human, that is, our actions were considered human if we acted with compassion and mercy. Yet we have been killing and maiming and igniting wars since time immemorial … so isn’t that, based on … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged a.i., ai, artificial-intelligence, being human, creative spirit, definitions, essay, fiction, imagination, life, longhand, lost causes, process, Prose, speculation, story, technology, thoughts, writing
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Crossroads
To say I am standing outside in the cold, the snowblowy cold, hatless, a gray overcoat—this would be a lie, this would be fabricated—as I am sitting inside, in my warm home, at my desk, trying to convince someone … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged creating, existential concerns, ghost story, ghosts, invention of solitude, overcoat, Prose, story, Winter, winter's tale, writing
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Chelsea Hotel #3
We Are Ugly But We Have the Music. This is our title, our collective moniker, our flagless flag, denominating no allegiances, no cultural attachments, no geo-political persuasions. None of that. We dwell underground, or to be more accurate, … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged art, chelsea hotel, leonard cohen, music, power, rising, story, surviving, underground, words
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Cinema
If cinema is a tomb, then let us die watching. The angel over my shoulder is hunched, opaque, morphing. None of us ever leave behind the darkened theater. We are here, always. Sanctuary, haven, enclave, respite, sitting tight … Continue reading
Titanic
If there were two, then let us say there were two. The two danced on the time-haunted deck of the Titanic, they called it the Titanic because they understood the floor beneath their feet was not to be trusted, … Continue reading