Amor Vincit Omnia
Love rustles his
dingy feathers
Beware the forces of woo
That one weird trick that THEY don't want you to know The end of history That plastic surgeons hate 6 simple ways to pull the republic out of the mud
the city is a widow¹
COLLAGE
The dead suffocate the living
The living crowd what is holy
and history
tosses its empty bottles
out the window
Our Brand New Haunted World
LinkedIn announces
a career milestone
for a dead friend
Skype pings pleasantly
with a suicide note
just for me
I know for certain
it's been 164 weeks
since that last happy selfie
this is a new world
I suppose
but it is already haunted
To lose the words to speak
and not have their corrosion
in my soul
To have blind archers
following me
singing my praises
the old women would say:
"he stinks of all the
betrayals of the world"
Mishima as St Sebastian
Here is my beauty
here is my pain
they are mingled with eachother
and cannot be separated
In this life
I have been blessed with pain and beauty
I would not have sought the latter
without the former
Life is cheap among the exiles
I tell myself every morning move with a measured mind and also with kindness maybe try godliness and every day I slip but not as far
A Map of Echo Park
This flesh was never unexplored it waited for a plum line but I have no lattitude here I'm looking for a different ocean the shadows of your apricot trees not yet tearing up the sidewalk delineated and demarkated my body this part you liked this part you didnt I was so proud to teach you the edibal geography of the city but after our lessons I could only find apples fit for pies The city became overground with scavengers of beauty rogue cartographers the streets shifted our garden city into a perfect grid What I want to say is: I miss your maps your delicious cartogrpahy the mercatored shadow
the Bach fugue rain swirling through gutters the highway an open vein the thought a phantom limb