There Is Nothing Like
This In The World
Filed under Broadsides Redux Project , THE ORPHANAGE
The faces seem painted again,
Clothes and all…well..
Adjusted and waiting.
Filed under Broadsides Redux Project , THE ORPHANAGE
Filed under THE ORPHANAGE
Seek out ultimate sin in Sinless City.
Or go away quietly.
There is nothing left for you
Where the flat-lands meet the mountains.
Filed under THE ORPHANAGE
It began not so innocently
with voyeuristic tendencies.
Filed under THE ORPHANAGE
Filed under THE ORPHANAGE
Filed under THE ORPHANAGE
They emanate from big beautiful brown eyes.
Innocent eyes that have seen too much,
and want answers. Eyes that beg to relax during sleep.
He has my eyes.
Filed under THE ORPHANAGE
I watch the fluid motion of
calamari dipped in marinara
and remember when
others watched
his every move too,
for many reasons.
Filed under THE ORPHANAGE
Filed under THE ORPHANAGE
Comments OffI see the stain on the pillow from
another night of nosebleed.
A bruise on my shin from atrophied balance
meeting the bedpost says good morning.
Straw like hair creeps back.
Evidenced by strands littering my bedsheets,
shining silver where once they were brown.
I blame the cold dry air of winter
knowing that would impede fluidity,
improve the …
Comments OffFinding the Beat Movie: A Feature Documentary in Search of the Modern Beat.
Read all about the project at:
Comments OffThis Cold Love– 4 different looks– What a Difference One Word Makes…
Comments OffThe poetry book falls, slow motion to the floor
and I take cover anticipating the ensuing
explosion of words, and wisdom
destined to be shrapnel to my soul.
Knowing nothing of modern literary warfare,
I jump under the table onto the shards of my life.
Broken dreams, shattered visions-
cutting me to the core.
This is where the …
Comments Offmy head is a time machine
my body is a time bomb
what keeps the pressure building?
Comments OffThe man’s breathing had grown labored.
That was to be expected, and so it was.
The man of five foot six had grown
larger than life – accomplished
in what he set out to do.
Just like a real man is supposed to.
The man had grown – had labored
into that accomplishment as well.
That was to …
Comments OffI stare sometimes at the crook,
on the inside of my left arm.
Transfixed by the two shadows,
amazed at the depth of their meaning.
They parallel my life.
I am responsible for creating them both,
in a metaphorical sense at least.
One an entrance, the other an exit,
both the result of something entering the first.
Once upon …
Comments Offin the dark forest
she is far above the ground.
she feels the lift and fall of walking
but feels comfortably paralyzed.
beneath her, the shoulders of a man
one who would carry her for miles and years.
when she is weightless,
or heavy with doubt.
he is as unsteady
as a leaf in the wind.
she, like a feather …