Skip to content

Who Will Light a Candle in the Dark?

In a crowded, noisy coffee shop, two people can sit together and still be surrounded by their own silence. They sit and drink together, the rest of the world far away from them, nothing intruding on them, nothing disturbing their quietude. Until one of them speaks.

“Elizabeth took pills last night.” Pip says, a scratch in his voice. (Continued)

The Ghost Functions of Your Favorite Metropolis

Flames are on the new scene, so hold on!

It is easier for members of the Dust Legion that preserve the metamachine police for the Wolf, I say, for the Wolves in Dubai that get into the dreamscape and glance with luring tongues, and young, growing flowers that miss all things fair and forward. Whose monsters orient their own no-wait security fleeing the whole at least were engulfed in New Yorkers who sprayed bullets from seven others as it is. If overpowered, so many discern what conduct all young people have in their sparking desires. In a labyrinth they hide. And yet! These simpering flames on the new scene, our noise and our gall, and a rancor wholly made of jellybeans, lured into un-timed clouds of smoke. Starting with a firearm on Friday from where we are apt to engage, I’ll do so, continuing as to waft gun-friendly showers of human servitors, a rainbow killing the too-sure troops there are of every un-free mind. Who will tame the familiars, full of them as has the Wolf devoured Tel Aviv’s ghostly soldiers? The anti-universe of the gun-carrying lawmakers and lame duck puppets, with pretty airs and young hearts in the Israeli wastelands. Texas is not for them, I think, mild and gentle-humored they may be, those unarmed masses with superspace bubblegum licensed, before the manhunt pop jam injuring like Sirens’ songs.

No wonder therefore these bohemians are suspicious and artful, though their true designs can be dangerous because of Wolves, indeed they may be? They listen to all sorts of rosy blooms that begin to appear. Who manifest, we have to stand with their very houses, nay, with their bedside manners, their tongues of silver. Since the dawn of the day, some enchant and lure Wolves! Who does not see the most unruly capitol in Austin, built of moon dust as they walk the streets? Even of two people and public militia, singing with language wondrous sweet, Follow young ladies but do not in complaisance ogle and leer, or languish, cajole, disturb. From this short story can we easily see that we could be gunmen on Friday. In a city hotel that was better than without one, beauties in the fragrant spring of massive lines, chewing an automatic weapon that is nearer my gods to thee, a public tesseract, wet and dreaming like a phantom. This New Year’s Eve storm will shatter every chain of coincidence. The 63-floor luxury hotel ought to learn and lapse, but above all, sort every character. Some of the demonic superliminal troops that said they knew about this are no more. And so it goes.

Her Apple-Dappled Eyes

long, so love
she drinks a few
anything in love, she said
to know him like the flu

& toys sounded clear enough
when it was a cold rail station
& tested negative laughs
& oh, the time they had
so drank alot & certainly dreamed
of when they were dead
flowing instructions to rest
& you ought to know me home

gee, so long
how much that joy
of love we’ve done that, she said
flying men act like boys

but when your joys are broken
everyone who seems would go might come to
don’t go leave the beach
& money on the young & fit
so sick, very sick, dresses, love
without people hung back he owns himself
love, he lived so in & out of her
you don’t know bizarre, but possibly nightmare

love, so long
he sparks her heart
anything for you, she said
to spot him from the start

they were dead laughs & oh, cold rail station
reality’s a bowler flowing instructions to sorrow lies
was rest & you hats with home & toys sounded
& his lungs like animals flew first alot
& certainly ought to know clear enough
when the end ocean & tested negative for strep
she was fever-free for of focus they have
until he never had so stuffy a day

& they never were again
& they never were again
& they never lost their dreams
into the open so long to love

This Night Could Last Forever…

This night could last forever, I think, as I knock nervously on the door of the cathedral, the chill wind of the city’s midnight streets whistling shrilly at our backs, our skin like glass, our bones like ice, the sky moonless, starless, cold as an abandoned tomb. “Will they even give us sanctuary?” Sylvester asks. I just shrug. I hope they will, but doubt weighs heavy inside of me, a lump of dusty coal, and all certainty has gone.

“When I was a child, maybe 10 or 11,” I say, “I saw an angel tumble into our back yard, wings streaked with blood, halo cracked and rusted.” I shake my head. Sleep threatens to overtake me.

“What did you do when you saw it?” Sylvester shivers from the cold, wrapping his arms around himself.

I cough out a laugh. “I approached it slowly, nervously. I touched it’s throat gingerly, like I’d seen people do in movies. There was no pulse and it wasn’t breathing. The angel seemed to be dead.”

“Seemed to be? So it was really alive? Just sleeping or something?”

“Oh no,” I say. “It was really dead. As dead as an angel can be, I suppose.

The cathedral door opens with a loud creak like a dragon’s death rattle. A sexton with a trollish face stands in the doorway, wrapped in blankets against the windy, bitter night. “Well,” he snaps, “what do you want at this hour?”

“We seek sanctuary,” Sylvester says. “We’re being pursued.”

“By?” the sexton asks.

“Ghosts from our pasts,” I explain, “hungry for life, seeking to drown us in shadowy, misty memories.” The sexton looks unconvinced, but beckons us to enter. As soon as we cross the threshold, he slams the doors shut and locks and bolts them.

As the sexton leads us through the dark cathedral, Sylvester says, “Take that, ghosts!”

Sweet Ginger Angelica

why are we always fighting?

make it go that way there having light
you’re going to make me & i need to cry
& the dollars are out
you’re overwhelmed & i’m online
overwhelmed & online
but if i don’t fire happy hearts at you
there’s something wrong

you’re sailing out to sea & talking for real
what i sing is never going to help you mind the shimmers
in your better future fingers
& one of these days you’re going to blow me away
with your sad silver heart

i don’t care about these sick sick cities
but i care too much & everything hurts
where out of nothing i guess that’s gotten out despair
& list the ones that keep goldmining our souls
light & hope
light & hope
but which wolf wins?
which wolf wins?
are we living out the darkness & despair?

a vulture waiting for you to fall into
darkness & despair
when you’ve got the blues
will you find a way to see me in hearts of ice
i’m starting to see you the same
looking good when you resign yourself in a fantasy feel

& the way i’m swimming to be tamed in your oh so serious eyes
it’s these discussions about how the other is for freedom
born to be crushed by the wheels greased by fear
die but don’t split because you feel extremely burned by the world
as open sky knows it’s good for dreaming

i left you at the end of what you’re always rolling in
dwelling on what’s out there wanting
there triggered by mass shooting pain
too old the possibility of what’s behind it & why
while i’m always for nothing & everything about the state of our minds
but for you to balance being
then go cut the two wolves without feeding either one

i’m a cool stone million
& you pick the bones when you’re screaming automatic drift divide
there’s got to be something on a blue & dark streak
i feel this terrible future & you’re never going to make it
never going to make it
but i don’t mind facing up to dust
in your every moment there’s hoping
let’s imagine
let’s imagine being sane
when you kiss kiss kiss my friends
& shake shake shake because you glimpsed it away

this is not the blues
this is not the blues

know it we’re fighting
when you keep me awake but it’s never there
monsters of the id
but we’re stronger than that
& once in a lifetime
is once in a lifetime
never to be afraid is never to be aware
but never to fight is never to live
& living is all we have in the end

The Rebirth of Papa

the attack that killed everything will be worldly & enchanted
how strange to be in san bernardino & curious too
i remember that this was you
a world numbered by your numbed expression
what wondrous officials have scrambled witches
goblins & lightning wishes & they were looking at a terrorist
people involved in honey carnivals & dragons
& all right in custard gas brownies
cinnamon & massacre wednesday

these masques of sugar & mystery & wonder
when the attackers kiss you all with that which also wounded paris
the 21 people on 78 kevlar cards
the possibility of bombs & guns & cream
of roses & ivy & workplace violence

oh you & your silly wars!
oh you officials since the unicorn crystals
& terrorism according to the world this is
your arsenal of explosive sigils at the allegiance to the extremely unusual
& ammunition suggesting the end of one perfect love
so rich the clearest indication yet

the only sane response to
when the leader of the lethal case will cast
by an act of total determination
whether whimsy & perhaps cut-up reality has amassed
an intuition of the twin attackers or have also revealed that
i will give law enforcement toys to the 16 people pledged