seen from United Arab Emirates
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seen from United States
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La Cave Du Vine
The lights, the lights So soft and warm A kind touch in the dark Soft tunes lazing In the too hip atmosphere Candles lit and votives out How forgiving a place The cigarettes are too much But the beer is cheap And how warm, how rosy my cheeks Thinking of you In the basement bar of Coventry Of the things we did to one another Thinking of The lights, the lights
Cleveland
That North Coast city of such strange squalor and exuberance, like a Detroit determined to shuffle off the albatross. My hub for so long, now the beginning point of a new journey, months of tragedy personal and otherwise, coming to a head—got to flee! and so headed West, my American birthright cashed in on some several pages of perforated tickets, my currency for change, first stop Denver by way of Chicago, Omaha, myriad small towns and errant truck stops, prefaced by the usual dreary Greyhound station waits, barely awake, some dread marionette hunched over, watching the clock tick minutes away waiting for the seemingly never arriving departure time and it all ends in drinks as it ever does, over at Becky's, famous E 18th corner bar, just down the way, and oh lord, get properly swacked, but spy the time and snatch my bag bounce away board the carriage and away I go from my home, Cleveland.
Black Market Lit Journal is a student run, online literary magazine dedicated to finding a home for misfit literature and art. Push buttons, be different, be bold.
My piece "Two dirty hands wash clean" appears in the inaugural issue of Black Market Lit, take a look!
skeleton dance
"But I thought..." began so many broken old hearts discarded in gutters by way of bus stops glee gone with the flick of a wrist emotionless skeletons clattering against one another tangled at the hips howling for for a spark of warmth like capturing a photograph subject distilled into a past tense as the future ceases to be
What is left where cracks form
A mouthful of sand sharp all the way down warm needles in the gut broken glass from there They never said in all the Disney pictures that sometimes this is what the ending looks like The weight of their clothes their habits their ghosts for always too long.
Velvet
Are we not velvet in the whiskey dawn looking only for truth, a relief from life's rough edges— a mortal coarseness forgotten at our lips' first —hands on thighs thinking are we not velvet?
Meditation #26
Give up that which makes you strong and you will become even stronger. The swordless warrior placates the hordes.
In my dreams
In my dreams the distance isn't so terribly far we get coffee in the mornings make nice little breakfasts and dance in the kitchen read on the sofa in the afternoons go for long walks and talk till our minds are laid bare enjoy music more deeply together than ever could apart split a bottle of wine and watch the sun set slowly fall tangled into bed together and only reluctantly drift off into sleep because in my dreams, life is finally so sweet, that I don't want to miss a second of the real thing, of you.
