fiction about fiction about fiction about fiction about fiction about fiction about fiction. arse ache. how long does this go on. Bullet – 1-5 or 13. The, litany (if you will) of pithy observation, self- parody but, gentle. you’re cool really because you’re candid about yr imperfections & yr, dare-i say-it-forgive-me-please, derangement. you’ve got…
Month: November 2017
how to end
I walked across the water; saw fish, the depth from the bridge, clear as the morning slant of light. I miss nothing; understand how it is, how it could have been. This is the way to fall or fall away. I’m disengaged & what’s worse: the circular motion of…
vision
she runs down the sand with her shoes in her hand. II by a deft play of light we’re sat beside the broken sea..
A Place To Lie
In these last rows are the people the farmer knew. There is the man he sought to raise a gun. He would pull the double-barrel from its bag and raise and aim in one motion. Before the noise fled across the field the beast was down, folding from the front and eyes up at the…
Would you still?
Send me a pocket of oranges picked when the sun was full ripe and chilled in an ocean of darkness see if the lillies are budding and was it right to bouquet them? Did the light play upon the water as the hearse lay my body down No fruit nor blooms can touch me as…
passers-by
risen, the moon blows, at last even you move on or I do from you turn my face, from the light. II should I – never have come, gone – evenings in long shadows swallowed whole my bare walls in turn swallow how long does …
Manuscripts
That was it He gathered his pipe and retired to his cottage Thought of the money/health wasted on ill repute And thought how he wasted the other half He turned his kerosene lamp to ail the dusk Looked blankly lost at first But started with an old pad scribbling by hand The cat had his…
LANGROUW: WRITINGS FROM THE HOLY HOUSE.
LANGROUW: WRITINGS FROM THE HOLY HOUSE. Written by Taylor John. French translations by Anna Abvién. (Apologies. I have, just a link, to the work.)
a fly
A fly is too small for my love, its hold on life too tenuous. If I own up, allow one so frail to elicit these feelings, I break.
meta
I wanted to disappear, live elsewhere; be some-one. I’m not. am I really here, in the empty hours strolling the streets after noon when no life stirs behind the shutters? on the lawn under the leaves pierced by star light. on the platform at dusk. the rails sense the trains a…
moon pearl girl
moon pearl girl for Keikei at edge of day when the sun is lost to the four points of night and the between winds of dream girl you might have missed in the day that new moon she grows into you a sliver to a pearl on evening’s sill she lets the shadow ride on…
fragments for a note book
My step dad rang me from Spain, said he wants to live with me & is that alright? do I want him, etc; love him. I said Yes. He’s drunk a bit again & crying but so what – because he’s lonely, misses me. I haven’t seen him in 10 years & we can’t afford…