Tag Archives: Literary

Climes

Grief, engendering the climes of Winter’s wraith, or, how the sound of white fire, falling, in reverse, encloses the dead in penitent refrain.

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Fetters

Between worlds, the vetted reaping of Memory, where wings once brushed rash pink, or, how an angel, ennobling fetters, loses sleep to grievous mortal claims.

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Filigree

And on the eighth day, gospel and inviolate, the Moon went on a bender, pouring silver chaste with salve, or, how the world, toddling due course, filigreed the necessary dark by grieving jointly.

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Pearl

In the shadow of a stray leaf, the ribbed modeling of pearlescent light, Autumn’s plein-air portrait, in miniature, unsigned.

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Fold

small hands, immeasurable in their dignity and brood, folding paper cranes as grief rises to level tender shoots

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The Ash Tree

She, supplicant to none and all, faring Heaven’s lighted grief, boughs between silent worlds, citing impartial Grace.

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Catalog

I have begun to name and catalog the different types of dark. It helps. Warm-dark, cave-dark, void-dark, womb-dark, sleep-dark, Eros-dark, blank-dark, siege-dark, and there is the anonymous dark that gets in your head and behind your eyes and in your … Continue reading

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Draft

There are no mirrors here, yet everywhere I see myself, a bated draft of furls, each bearing the right to exist, and respire ably.

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Epitaph, the Hidden Diary of an Inner Child

Today: Bidden by tatters, and gravity’s mutable arc, the palpitations guide me. They are subtle, duly engaged, a milk-slow run of shivers. Bracing the rim, I peer out of cavedark: everything is sudden, color-soaked, a ferocious din and melt, fringed … Continue reading

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Recall

It is, I think, the rote platitudes and uniform responses drawn from an armored template or assembly-line gremlin (another day another dollar, same old same old, can’t complain, yea but you’ve got to be realistic) that are the slow malignant … Continue reading

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