Monthly Archives: August 2010

Monologue #1

Jazz is for Sunday afternoons. Like last Sunday, warm April day. Just had those high clouds. Just a mellow, perfect day.  The wife and I were painting, yeah, painting the living room that kind of antique thing cause we got … Continue reading

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Parker

Parker plays the sound heard alone when lonely goes beyond occupied space or distance feet measure to nearest skin. It goes beyond recognizing repeated words said to say them and longing for what it is to hath spoken it. Beyond … Continue reading

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Storm

It’s hard to resist him in the tiled shower where water beats closing crease of mouth (and storm beats doors of the house) and etchings are hieroglyph of memory.   It’s hard to ignore his empty desk and absent tools … Continue reading

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The Healing

Start on a gurney’s white starched sheets and lay how he says and show what he asks and then his finger through tissue and fat digs to tension and hurt the pressure of healing.   End to a world tilted … Continue reading

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Black Friday

i. I just want to write a poem in a comfortable little place that isn’t owned by a corporation peering at me through carefully demographicked music and glowering out tall windows at spartan sidewalks and cop cars parked and empty. … Continue reading

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