 |
Do
not mistake me for a catholic, old friend.
I
do not truly believe your soul to be hiding
underneath
the couch or behind the fridge
..
|
 |
I open its rotting door.
I catch an old man staring at himself in a dirty mirror-
Hands clasped to the sink,
Neck crooning,
Mouth sl..
|
 |
Ego makes the short feel tall,
The tall feel short,
The short feel shorter,
But never
Will it let the tall feel taller.
|
 |
She
spots a coil of singed thread
Lying
in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory’s ashes:
all
that remains of the cloth.
Its black t..
|
|
She clutches the wall,
Slowly sinking
To the floor.
Her wide eyes stare across the room
as the phone delicately
Falls from her ha..
|
|
I have not slept this night
and the darkness slowly lifts from the earth.
I am left behind in the previous day
which no other night can w..
|
 |
I
often wander
the
Bowery in Chinatown
on
snowy evenings,
brushing shoulders
with other faceless silhouettes.
Each
st..
|
 |
The child’s eyes
Are vacant
With the gaze of god
Descending into
A pit
Of
prophetic ecstasy-
Of skin folding outwa..
|
 |
Very
little is to be said
about
a fruit painter.
He
stares at me,
and
I glare back.
He’s
looking harder now
just
w..
|
 |
Oh,
metal behemoth
carving
your way
down
broken tracks
through
the underbelly
of
nowhere New Jersey,
What
hell are you off to..
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