Tag Archives: ghosts

Notation

Ghosts, in lucid drag, bare to the drifts and unerring grace of realms unending— we, in human-rent shape, exercise particles in a quantum plot of recall and dramatic flair— these mortal coils, shed, in frets and arpeggios, scale by scale, … Continue reading →

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Pilgrimage of the I

A hatless pilgrim, roving this way and that, a man embodying the virtues of scat (in every sense of the word), wandering through starched cardstock fields in search of an impossible flower and its stingy nettles— proud, pistil-engraved, the flower’s … Continue reading →

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Night Beat

It is in these moments when the pumpkin orange glow of the lanterns softens the streets and the bicycles lined up in rows compose portraits of ordered symmetry, that the night turns in on itself, and with it goes I, … Continue reading →

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Blue

I knew this. Even before I met her, I knew this. But she, as an explicit confirmation, as a caretaker and symbiotic mouthpiece to my unsaid secrets, said, and so concisely—Dreams come out of the blue, returning to the blue. … Continue reading →

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Elegy

From the series, Japan Poems. Time out a cemetery plotted on higher ground overlooking the railroad tracks crisscrossing bouts of traffic houses accounting for lives lived in shuttered flashes the dead amounting to subtlest vigils kept in the way wind … Continue reading →

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Echoes Extended

Grief attends to the bones. And does so listening to the spaces between the hollows where the ghosts are held hissing where loss compounded by fractures gives rise to near distant voices crying out on behalf of all that’s gone … Continue reading →

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Process of Echoes

Grief attends to the bones. And does so listening to the spaces between the hollows where the ghosts are held hissing where loss compounded by fractures gives rise to near distant voices crying out on behalf of all that’s gone … Continue reading →

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Best Ghost and Audio

I have to be careful. This business of old tapes, new tapes. There is responsibility involved. Stewardship. Care. Consideration. You cannot be a headless D.J. If you cut off the D.J.’s head and expect him to be able to communicate … Continue reading →

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Plot Twist

As if in a dream, or mottled gloam, she found herself bailing on the small needy child with grotesquely long tapered fingers– she found herself leaving home to an unmarked plot and its numberless ghosts. #38 from Untitled Film Poems … Continue reading →

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Ghost Story

The turn of the screw, set her ghost to shivering– The blues became her.   (Artwork by Linda Stojak)

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