the funeral of bacchus |
Soft skull, fondlerOf compass, rower toAnimate shoresOf drowsiness, howIt's animal Divided into Citizen andShape, the lastEmotion of grapeDripping from the bottle. ThereThey're their mouthsLike labyr...
Posted by on Thu, 14 Aug 2008 23:06:00 GMT |
story |
Her feet Were a birds bones Wrapped in chewed Paper
Posted by on Fri, 04 Jul 2008 14:17:00 GMT |
an eternity |
"I have to have them" you tremble. I purse my chastity. Toy withThe idea. Candied like a proudApple, mountains behind the space,Hardly the credentials of temptation,Any chance to shine like home...
Posted by on Mon, 16 Jun 2008 00:27:00 GMT |
renounce |
I'm used to men who are disfiguredBy my insistence on the feminine.Flavored by leaf, jerking skywardFrom shockwave, they seem my herbBut I'm only flesh of theirsIf surrounding the dead, pullingThe wo...
Posted by on Fri, 06 Jun 2008 11:19:00 GMT |
star (pts. 1, 2 & 3) |
1. Whole days in silence.The dune became a parade,Gold afresh, applause in falsity;Architect of sentimentality, IResponded to your mystery.How could it outrun ones soulIn a race to the drowsy moonAnd...
Posted by on Wed, 21 May 2008 14:03:00 GMT |
ether/oar |
Explain the strokesTo a stranded atomAt that edge waitingWhat the wind could wonder.Meticulous, the opennessOf the stilled chamber,The anxious root ofUnlikeness, a liquidAs vague as dust, orA blister...
Posted by on Sat, 26 Apr 2008 19:11:00 GMT |
antique meat |
The mistaken diagramWill loosen everything.
Curiosity is an experimentIn the abandonment
Omitted in the anguishOf the narrator: presence
Shall be obedient, theVertebrate as book and
Does not ki...
Posted by on Sat, 15 Mar 2008 23:04:00 GMT |
untitled/translator |
The words detachable, aScentless twitch to theirDecoded pearl, a lushAir to the spiritAs the throat embracesThe signal, a songIn letters, a fetteredKnot daubed legibleBy nature; the crystalOf t...
Posted by on Fri, 11 Jan 2008 23:03:00 GMT |
female dust |
Seal, experiment. Emblem, not lock.*Curiosity is aloud, loud.Hours heal, as doesThe fires' chill.*One thing havingWatched. I meantTo suffer again, didNot.*Blink at the glintOfTheWhisper...*A stone a...
Posted by on Thu, 10 Jan 2008 23:30:00 GMT |
collection |
The backdropIs alive, theRiver of radios,The coloredCells improvisedInto stationedHoney. There Are volumesTo witness, thereAre misnomersLike "cage", filmsOf proof growingOn age. TellMe of secrecy, ho...
Posted by on Wed, 02 May 2007 23:38:00 GMT |
