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Meta
Tag Archives: Prose
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 and homey … Continue reading
How Tomorrow Moves
Or, Brooklyn Boys Shit-Talkin on Street-Corners Back in the Day.
Posted in Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose, Video
Tagged back in the day, Brooklyn, days of box wine and plastic roses, New York, Prose, shit talkin, story, streetcorner hustle, urban youth
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Monkeys and Barrels
Kinked reflections on the writing life, New York states of mind, Babe Ruth’s prodigious appetite, Einsteinian time-blips, desert blues, and the Aqua Net generation.
Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Video
Tagged aqua net, author, babe ruth, Brooklyn, einstein, graffiti, New York, Prose, publishing industry, reflections, Spoken Word, story, storytelling, the writing life, voice
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Notes in Passing
The old man in the blue hat, short-sleeve white shirt, gray pants, blue sneakers, seated on a canvas folding chair staked on a plot of grass, the old man’s elected vantage point from which to enjoy his beer and watch … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged dreaming, festival, musing, parade, Poetry, portrait, Prose, sketch, street scene, summer days, this life
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Melodrama
Let’s start with this photo, the comic melodrama in which you, perfectly staged, are wearing a blue pinafore dress, your dark hair gagged in pigtails, mouth heavily lipsticked, cheeks cherubically rouged, your eyes two flashing ovals of abyss-pooling licorice, sweat … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged incarnations, life and death, locomotive, love story, lyrics to go, melodrama, mourning, novel in progress, photo, Prose, silent film, story, tragedy, villain
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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
Play
I have to imagine her death from every conceivable angle. She has assured me she will disappear, said that dying is a trick of the light, and everyone was enamored of the mirage, convinced, in on it, the gag. When … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged betweenworlds, death, dreamscape, life, Light, love story, mirage, persona, playtime, Prose, show, story, Theater
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In the Dark
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 dark of the theater. We are here, always. Sanctuary, haven, enclave, respite, sitting tight … Continue reading
Pandora
I won’t call this a book because no one reads books anymore, no one gives two shits and a dime about books. I’ll call this an exalted and long overdue mania, a catalytic inversion, a freebase purge. Whatever, whatever. Voyeurs … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged apocalyptic bop, black comedy, book, fiction, groove is in the heart, invention, musing, new mythology, not a book, novel in progress, novel inprogress, pandora, Poetry, Prose, solitude
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Station
Historyless is where I come from, the sun-crotched navel, the part of me not yet born, the part of me dead to the world on its way to being born into the potholes and foothills of unimagined fictions. That, plus … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged betweenworlds, born waiting, cosmos, dreamscape, I, interval, midwifery, musing, Poetry, Prose, station, we, worldscape
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