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I am guilty of having poured too many words on top, too many phrases turned to silver coins massaged into the gaping eternity of palms, I have done my best to imitate the rain, and have failed, but how fucking … Continue reading

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Easter

She, tender Sunday, wearing only beads of rain– her skin held the light.

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Breadth

To revel in awe, just cause for breathing deep, slow, breadth taking you in.   (Photo by Anne Brigman)

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No Runway Required

How come no one ever asks, What are you metaphysically wearing right now? Are you basking in translucent skivvies, rocking spangled self-awareness, dream-dropping golden drawers and grace-lace in multi-storied tatters, are you so flagrantly naked right now, candle-wax-drip in a … Continue reading

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The Little Emperor

(In memory of Anthony Hassett, and in response to his artwork) I have seen the Little Emperor— mischievous, unabashed, baiting in borrowed skin dong tolling through the marketplace offering his services for a nominal fee. He leads, without words, through … Continue reading

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