seen from Yemen
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Canada
seen from Uruguay
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Armenia
Caffeine may be the death of me eventually, hypertension blood pressure increasing while helping with my limited energy and creativity.
It probably has taken a few years but they’ll be the rough ones waiting on the otherside of sixty to eighty, the shitting my pants daily and wearing depends, hardly moving, and in pain waiting for the end.
-2026
c.a.v.i.t.y
I’ll cut it from my chest
I’ll cut it from my chest and grab quickly at gravel, sand, pebbles and there will be nothing pretty in the way I pack in every crevice.
I’ll cut it from my chest and with it I will gasp out the only true breath, light and unburdened, I will ever know. Before was before
and then will be air filtered through fine filament packed deep packed thorough, packed so that nothing may ever grow there again.
It will be gritty. From the sand, from the dirt amongst the gravel and the half crushed bugs beneath pebbles, all caked in and around my finger nails.
And no,
I won’t wrap it,
It will be placed in front of you.
Where you lay, half passed out on the floor,
It’s yours to keep
Its just getting too heavy, that’s all
For this chest
Reflected and refracted out of existence
At what point does a mask stop being a mask
I think it’s when superglue fuses fast to flesh
When I speak to you
It won’t be long till you’re speaking to you
And maybe that’s how I spent 10 years with someone I despised
They loved me till they didn’t
They loved themselves
Until they didn’t
The glue did not peel easily
Exposed raw secretions
A town of people who hate me and with good reason
Their spit becomes salvation
Because it’s me they hate. My true face.
It’s with that face,
I met them
Sweet alien child, ancient Bigfoot cryptid,
A puddle of buckfast and nicotine, it makes a pleasing flood of goo
Eye balls rolled up into view and then
They said
Hey, how cool, you’re goo too
Goodnight
to
the
empty
space
in
my
bed
But oh how i would like someone in my bed with me.
R.A.
it’s been a while since
to be a man
go about your day
and
sweet susan from accounts
sashay wafts on by
the new intern
high heels on
long hair in the breeze
it’s been a while since
that tingle comes on
it’s been a while since
a woman was in your life
a real one that is
not those on the screen
you park that for a time
back of your mind
some days are dog days
this is not one of them
if you recognise
some of those days
may be coming soon
you’ve finally
got the last one
out of your head
neil benbow
I hunt you
as tenderly
as passion permits
never too close
my devotion
has become
a law of physics
this is nothing frivolous
you cannot know
what i swore
to the tides
gibbous lunatic
doomed to ecstatic
celestial motion
ardent apostle
of an oblivious
goddess
never waning
I will always
orbit you
Hand picked by her,
a shuffled deck with soft hands, I suppose.
She speaks wisdom as she turns a card over.
I see how her face illuminates with a bit of excitement for her followers happy reading too.
She has one right dimple that appears when she smiles;
it sets off beauty of her appearance.
Pretty, so very pretty
wisdom she shares
the time taken out of her day dedicated to make the video.
Those things are love too--
that's the love language for me outside of the the same ole cliches.
R.A.
Grandfather
You were a gnarled oak tree,
knuckles dug in the black soil
of home, holding all of us safe
from the storms that fell like
hammers. You seemed so strong.
When you died, nobody could
lift their tongues to speak the
words, the words that must be
spoken. I gave you eulogy.
I was barely eleven.
Your death broke the dam.
She spoke, in a rush of words,
water, destruction. Your
fists pounding the boys. Your
words gouging my mother's face,
marking her body.
Your women. Their ghosts rattling
around your marriage bed, putting
a killing knife in my grandmother's
hand, pointing it at her own breast.
How you stole the daylight and
shrouded her in misery.
I didn't know. I didn't know. I gave
your eulogy when I was barely
eleven because I was the only one
who didn't know. Who saw you as
the oak tree, unbending, unbroken.
