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When the sapling is born it is unable to utter any words. They have no voice, but they do have the ability to listen. Minute by minute, day by day they hear and try to replicate the song. The song that was heard since they were born, the song that was sung since the beginning […]

after Film Noir 101: The 101 Best Film Noir Posters from the 1940s – 1950s, Mark Fertig (Fantagraphics, 2014) #98 Somewhere in the Night The hand to the gate, steel; the lips to the mouth, red; the coat to the dress, red; the hat to the head, black; the gun to the hand and the

I can’t call home anymore / leave your message after the beep I memorized the number in kindergarten The number to the kitchen wall phone with the twisted cord Remember this number so you can always call mom or dad if you need them My thumbs still recall the rhythm to dial home with such

Desire wraps around thin shoulders chilled with light An envelope of protection warms daylight Ocean on skin akin to laying on of hands I shelter in place return to felt familiar poverty An envelope of protection warms daylight Between us thought replaces speech I shelter in place return to felt familiar poverty Mental models rinse

It’s funny, I’ve got this pain in the back of my mouth where my wisdom teeth were, and only since the surgery can I recognize that as the area where love goes first when it leaves the trappings of the heart. She was the one who told me this, it was there bubbling for her

Budapest faded behind me, Istanbul shimmered ahead, but I woke up fixed in the blinding white night around me, somewhere in between: Subotica. Outside, a man walked up the train banging the bogies with startling violence. I took childish refuge in the name of the train, was able to think, ‘I’m safe, on the Cross-Balkan

It has been sweltering, and so I have been resultantly melted in both posture and emotion, a sauntering display of sapped energy, a puppet with no master, shuffling pathetically from sidewalk to side street to wide street to main, where parades of soft-legged dancers swing effortlessly in the sun, sweating in a way that is

Herb I saw him after a long break And he told me about A new kind of herb He was having with every meal And how Some kind of government body Didn’t want to allow access To the herb His eyes were alive with fire And it was a cold autumn day And I thought

I. The feeling, of Growing up seaside, and leaving… to return years later, enchanted and calmed by The sound of the waves and The sight of the pearlescent waters; Of beholding mountains from Airborne flights to unfamiliar scents And memories, after living a life on flatlands; Of harvesting fruit, home-grown from a “brown thumb”; Of