Archives
Sunday for Spite
Posted on March 21, 2014 Leave a Comment
In that half turn from Oraton onto Chester, a boat and a stove kiss in the morning mist off the Passaic, crunchy brownish weeds vying to separate them – bland tang of a sticky communion wafer clinging to my tongue. I run it over my teeth, and look out the back of the Oldsmobile -the […]
Morning Train
Posted on March 19, 2014 Leave a Comment
When I awake with my usual bloody lip salted and curdled in a mutinous fugue of fatigue, only then is every next day of manic perception ushered in. Another day ahead -I pray only for blackness- for to be defined by the monotony of progression is to be emotionally waterboarded. It’s an erratic regimen, erotic […]
A Girl by the Bridge 
Recent Comments