Tag: Poem

My Father’s Mouse

—-“Is it her singing that enchants us or is it not rather the solemn stillness enclosing her frail little voice?” -Franz Kafka I know the place he visits…those melodies. Songs like children that make sure you never forget your heart. I’ve tangled with them,…

Alice

She sets a folded towel upon cool sheets, her ass makes a depression on the mattress. Silence is never a full-proof method of understanding each other, even if hands are involved. They touch, then they talk. Talking is never a full-proof method of… His…

Tough Daylight

Chiado District, Lisbon Portugal, May 2019. (Click on image to enlarge.)     More images can be found here.  

Lone

Click on image to enlarge. Lisbon Portugal, May 2019     (An Elan longread available here.)

Come at a Price

The amount of alcohol in her drink. The loudness of her laugh. Soft shirt sleeves, brushing raw, coded skin. Tender angst made her… Makes her Voice rise Like dinnertime restaurant dishes. All she said, forgotten. All she would have said, remembered.      

Words

Sometimes I feel like murdering them, squashing them under my feet, watching letters bleed out, separated from the word they are attached to. Other times, I place them in an incubator, checking in on them from time to time. Some go in a special…

Ripple

Branches, once a small bridge, lie over missing mud, lose their original meaning. Now, a hard turf sits like a soft concrete, an uneven glaze dried upon them. The branches are caked, bricks in dirt, an ancient architecture. I see the trail, in its…

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