Tag Archives: kissing

Starfishing

In the hazy evening smolder (somewhere there is a fire, sirens sounding alarm) you dream of her as a jellied starfish suctioned to your face until breathing becomes a revised species of flirtation and you relinquish your lips to the … Continue reading

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Boy and Girl

   I remember the time, Anya, when my mother asked about you and me. I was thirteen. My mother’s sickness was in its early stages. She had already turned the couch in the living-room into her sickbed. She hated lying … Continue reading

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First Time, Forever

(Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.)    What are we gonna do with ourselves Daniel?    Like right now?    Like ever. Are you gonna go to college?    I don’t know, but I don’t think so.    Why you’re smart? … Continue reading

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Breathing Lessons

   One night Anya and I were hanging out in my living room. My father was in Atlantic City. My mother was dead. Had been for almost three years at that point.    Anya and I had the place to … Continue reading

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Miracle

When kissing, we initiated our tongues to slow, deep, fevered tango, wresting the rabid miracle of pink from thin, slitted air.

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Kissing

She told me, and I quote: “As a pagan-gnostic-pop-mystic, my religion is kissing– the ground, stones, twigs, children’s nubby fingers, hems of clothing, mouths.” To prove her word devout, she kissed me on the lips, then deeper, and I received … Continue reading

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First Snow

Upon first snow’s feathery kissing of bare limbs, interlocked, we will know ourselves as Nature, never truly apart, the sheer force of dream on white too powerful to sever.

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Kiss/Sing

It is the first and lasting kiss of breathless lovers archived in a recursive loop, the stripping of cinema to its barest flammable proof.

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