Light / shadow. Light / shadow. Live oaks. Mozart’s Adagio, the twenty third in A Major. My turn signal blinks on the dashboard only to hasten the Dodge in front (swim, Ichthus, support the troops). To the right, in the mirror, a focused eye squints / goggles — swings of mascara. A battered Camry cleaves across: a pressure wave from loud bass, the chrome sun-mill in spiked wheel rims. The […]
If they start to go over the cliff —I mean if they’re running and they don’t look where they’re going, I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That’s all I’d do all day. I’d just be the catcher in the rye. — J. D. Salinger Days slip between my fingers — meticulously shaped acrylic tips without which I’d bite cuticles to blood. Autumnal light throbs through […]
He was a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up. — J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens Captain Hook, I fed your hand to a crocodile not out of malice, but for survival. This city is swollen with oil. Towers are eerie at night — gators never sleep. Your clocks tick away in the crocodile paunch. Birds guide the flyers. Even disheveled-grey à la Patti Smith, no […]
Melancholy Hyperbole 