-
please, leave
The room I'm in is white with ( Read more... ) -
a shade of purple
lazy evening, dark clouds emerging ( Read more... ) -
still alive for you, love.
"Once, long ago, when I was still young, when the memories were far more vivid than they are now, I often tried to write about her. But i couldn't produce a line. I knew that if that first line would come, the rest would pour itself onto the page, but I could never make it happen. Everything was too sharp and clear, so that i could never tell where ( Read more... ) -
Drone therapy.
I guess I'm coping well. I slept 12 hours and woke up with the reality of what is humping me down, sinking me deep into my bed. I laid for another hour after I woke up, letting the sediments settle to the bottom of the glass. The wall clock reads 17:56, I went straight to the unlit gray bathroom and looked myself in the mirror. I looked horrible. ( Read more... ) -
1/30
Back home all was awfully quiet. Branched out from the engine of the bronze ceiling fan was four limbs made of cheap plywood spaced in perfect symmetry. Their rumbles, albeit harrowing to the soft morning eardrums, coexist harmoniously with the silence of the morning glow-- with only the occasional alpha cries of the next door pinscher or the tsk ( Read more... ) -
Hell.
"The typical migraine headache is unilateral (affecting one half of the head) and pulsating in nature and lasting from four to 72 hours; symptoms include nausea, vomiting, photophobia (increased sensitivity to light) and phonophobia (increased sensitivity to sound); the symptoms are generally aggravated by routine activity. Approximately one-third ( Read more... ) -
On Spontaneous Prose
Belief & Technique for Modern Prose ( Read more... ) -
Seventeen syllables
Cold morning
Moths dancing in silence
Flowers nodding in agreement -
Western Haiku
"Above all a Haiku must be very simple and free of all poetic trickery and make a little picture and yet be as airy and graceful as a Vivaldi Pastorella ( Read more... ) -
September
Sep-tem-bur. The three syllabled word that has always managed to ignite a sudden flash of recollection of my childhood -my post-am-session carefree 8 and 10 year-old childhood- and the month I always thought was cooler than his eleven other siblings in a callow unpubertized sense. The childhood, of void-deck soccer, cut styrofoam drain race, ( Read more... )