Out of Metropolis
We’re headed for empty-headedness,the featureless amnesias of Idaho, Nebraska, Nevada,states rich only in vowel sounds and alliteration.We’re taking the train so we can see into the heartof the heart of America framed in the windows’ cooloblongs of light. We want cottages, farmhouseswith peaked roofs leashed by wood smoke to the clouds;we want the golden broth…
As It Was Written
Earth, earth,riding your merry-go-roundtoward extinction,right to the roots,thickening the oceans like gravy,festering in your caves,you are becoming a latrine.Your trees are twisted chairs.Your flowers moan at their mirrors,and cry for a sun that doesn’t wear a mask. Your clouds wear white,trying to become nunsand say novenas to the sky.The sky is yellow with its jaundice,and…
Who Am I, Without Exile?
A stranger on the riverbank, like the river … waterbinds me to your name. Nothing brings me back from my farawayto my palm tree: not peace and not war. Nothingmakes me enter the gospels. Nota thing … nothing sparkles from…
Lyf Gallery 