“If you outsmart the pattern,
the house doesn’t win”
--Clyde Lewis, Ground Zero WILKFM
Noisy Advent: the miniscule windows of
Silence trampled under heel, tick
Watches, both arm- hands bent off,
Imploded along line fractures. All I know
Is that perhaps space, even the darkest, most
Alien, shall harbor us if we take care to just
hear, … look: the brain is divided
But the mind is not
Because of that, pick
A side then if you must;
better get over it, the fix is exposed
… by a process of elimination.
These ions flickering semaphore like
one way or another, anyway
polar or sub-polar, still warm
theirs for a bit, if never for certain
passages when as well as where
the pall bearers should appear,
set lines one used to draw
in the sand, “writ in water, break
only the residue can be smoked
for the sake of the kind of
elegies; so clear, so proud”
so hurt, so what, whatever
comes, came. And went, didn’t you
choose this (on reflection)
going gone forever. After all,
isn’t this off the cuff what the number
stands for, up off its knees. After all,
a door frames here now, free associate
any door, you’ll allow for closure, opens
to for one thing, programs to
up a lost soul, it’s the renewable spirit
animal, vegetable, mineral….
alone despite all the bright
Shiny mortar rockets blather
Along the country’s diminishing horizon, where
I might straddle both pit and pendulum, I seer
Another last straw breaking common ground
lead to believe
here’s 26 I caught
out of the corner of my eye
this past Guadeloupe
near final buzzer, an electric--
shock treatment made to new order,
numerologies cry out unlikely left behind
in some vacant lot,
beside your own.
Poem of the Week
who have experienced
on a large
i tell raif
i think my
might be dead
haven't seen her
& her car hasn't moved
for two weeks.
you would smell it
passing me a plate
of triangular shaped bread
slathered in jam.
Story of the Week
DARLEEN SQUEELED into the empty spot as soon as the gleaming white Mercedes pulled out. "We got lucky," she told Montana. "Even on a Monday night, this lot is killer."
Montana rolled her big blue eyes. "Whatever."
The eleven year old had better things to do, like text her friends. Incessantly, as if she had a tic. The kid hadn't wanted to shop tonight, but Darleen insisted. This was their first Christmas without Paulie and the girls needed to stick together. Darleen's ex had been nasty lately and mediation had hit a cement wall. Montana wasn't aware how dangerously close they were to losing access to Paulie's vast and unreported wealth.
Montana sighed dramatically as she yanked open the door of the Porsche Cayenne and tumbled out. She didn't pause in her texting.
Darlene checked her face in the rearview mirror. The most recent fat transfer had been wildly successful. She loved her new lips. Grabbing her Gucci bag, she hopped out of the front seat.
Her daughter trailed her into the mall, thumbs flashing on her phone keypad.