Tuesday, August 10, 2010

And oh, most incessant of woes that ever prickles in the back of the head, the underside of the eyelid, that has you forever twisted within its miserly fingers, that refuses to loosen even a bit on you, let you go just a little.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

It was the beginning of a taste. Too mild to be identified, too quick over the tongue to be called upon.

Sunday, July 18, 2010


Today was the first day of the rest of her life.


Plans laid ever so carefully and mulled over and over in the difficult gray folds of your brain, often disintegrate so easily.

Friday, July 16, 2010


Did you ever meet Maybe? I did, once. That's the stupidest name I've ever heard, Maybe. Like her parents looked at her and weren't sure about her yet, and said to each other "Maybe," and the nurse thought it was some new-fangled name and scratched it onto the birth certificate and by the time her parents got around to naming her, it was already too late, the ink was dry, the nurse was done with her shift and off to sleep for hours and hours and play with her little dog, whose name was Molly, a common, sensible, nice name, not like Maybe.


And the moment of flying
And the small burst of light
And the the fire's red glow
And the essence of flight

How you're tossed in the air
How you're spread in the sky

How you will be millions
How you will soon die

In pieces and pieces and pieces and pieces and pieces and pieces.


There's a sort of camera in some people's minds somethimes. It's one of those extra special, extra sensory cameras that can zoom real far and see real wide, those panoramic shots like from above or below that take up the whole sky, or your whole face, pores and all, just everything.