There are gray haired women who in the doorways who gossip. Lamps spill amber onto the street. A truck pushes on into the morning. Generations die uncommitted on the train. The batting lashes and frigid secretaries. There are mug faces and bulbous lips. Hair twisted and tortured unnaturally. The broken vision of an Aztec queen. […]
5-21 I am lying beside PW in a hotel room bed where I read a book and watch television simultaneously. I look to tell PW she is beautiful. A group of elegantly dressed ladies appear on television dancing. Their dresses are classical and shimmery. An announcer mentions that they are “voguing” as I notice that
Bras, Bicycles, The Ninth Circle and Life on the Run Read More »
Grandfather lies in a dreaming state while shadows enter the hospital room and shake him awake. He sees his sons as small children. He will not eat. He speaks in his sleep to ghosts and drops his thin jaw. He is tethered down for his own good. At night they sometimes chain his feet to
Within the freight elevator, the old Mr. Pointe spends a day’s eternity. Through the wire mesh at the bottom of the shaft a maintenance man hovers over a dark wheel. Spinning ratchets and dull greased pulleys. In Mr. Pointe’s cab are the necessary items of faith. There are old Christmas lights tangled and burned beyond
She keeps a collection of pictures of herself with others in her room. Some are of old barely forgotten boyfriends. They are in an envelope under a box on top of a bureau. She’ll shows them to the new boy, editing out the precious ones, and the dangerous skin embarrassing intimate nudity camera play photos.
