Tag Archives: Prose Poetry

in my neighborhood

You are like the tuber of calcaneous, necessary but non-articulating… Without you there is no ambulating me… The things you said to me in your gasps and low moans: “They transferred me to room 15…” “It’s the same to die … Continue reading

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in my neighborhood

To help me further illustrate the immortalwe mayfly and quilt towardindecision and worry trips. Why do the shambles—the tomtits of whistle plaid doos—the pachinko palleters suffer the nape of the midden? You are an empty idyll in is true hue—swizzled … Continue reading

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in my neighborhood

I forget what that final word is … Time fog is hellish … What more do you require on the day of your death at 5:26 am? You’re welcome! The signs of the apocalypse are stark and plentiful. “I must … Continue reading

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in my neighborhood

If you took a mondegreen and somehow made it a spondee … would grass grow from its base and spread a towering canopy from its expanding branches … and throw us into shadow for two/thirds of the year? A gutbucket … Continue reading

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hallowed is thy

November Spawned a Monster October is in the rear view. The rear view is in the river. Pelagic creatures are flopping about in the shallows wondering where the encroaching oceans went. The monks are illuminating by the gallows. The henchmen … Continue reading

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time at night

Dreams of Bioluminescence Because I didn’t want to go, I made my partner cry. I feel poorly today, both physically and now because I made him cry. I have a predisposition for alienation—and a tendency to make more of sirens … Continue reading

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fool-animal earwigging

Highest Eminence O, pallid bat, wombat, scarlet tanager, marmoset and all the little animals of the world that spark wars and worldwide grief! Listen! Ye who visit our leaders’ dreams at night and whisper all types of destructive and inhumane … Continue reading

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what we do

Press play button above to watch my short film, found feet five (4:14) We Be Burls As if we never existed—our family—one of the myriad meaningless cul-de-sacs of the human stain. We strive for erasure—disappearing is what we do best. … Continue reading

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and you say

Today, The Past, and Some Night to Come He lives with ephemeral creatures beneath his feet and stanchions around his bed. A case study in diverting his elbow’s loose skin and the stubbing of his tender footing. In the darkness … Continue reading

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of fighting unhappiness

Tell Don’t Show / That Thing i. The pith of the pang is what I pity. Nowhere is it written that this must be done, but I strive to do it nonetheless for fear of not doing it with empathy. … Continue reading

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