Tag Archives: sorrow
Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn: I put on my headphones, turned on my music and hit shuffle. I eased into Nina Simone’s version of “I Shall Be Released.” I wondered about the state of Anya’s soul, and then thought … Continue reading
Ask the divine wordless forecast, ask the motherless child staring off into the distance as she sails a paper airplane out the opened window.
Heartbreak, she looks down to read what she cannot see– Escape, she breathes out. (Artwork by Edward Hopper)
The scarring gleam, to produce penitent beads of sorrow, through a lashed eye, darkly. (Photo by Man Ray)
She wonders, nightly, nothing specific, just stray thoughts leaking old dreams. (Photo by Brassai)
Our Lady of Eternal Valentines, forever bestowing tenderest mercy and heart-shaped harbor to the world’s sorrowful lot.
A man in a bulky white parka is running across a snowy landscape. The hood pulled over his head is lined with seal-gray fur. He is wearing plastic goggles that are caked in frost. … Continue reading
Blindly, blindly, blindly, she reaps every choice from my scythe and asking. I live with brute innocence and murder in her heart. I am not her child, I am her fiction, her sad fable and paling wrath.
The out of womb blues, torch song on code red alert– Slow burning for home.
Listen raptly to the furls of drizzle pecking upon thin glass, and you will come to know how close dreams are to trespassing rare intimacy upon closed worlds and distances.