“Everyday at a quarter past three I open up a can of tuna and set it on the table. I cut two thick slices of bread that has already begun to stale and put them on a white china plate already set out on the table, and slide it next to the can of tuna.…
Viviremos juntos o moriremos separados. Only a fool allows himself to be separated from another based on a third party’s beliefs. Like stone walls, we stand through leaning on one another, absorbing each others’ weight as others absorb ours. Walls built from uniform stones require mortar to stand. Walls built of rock in disparate shape…
I am reposting this piece, this time with soundtrack as it sounded in my head while writing. This poem is a satirical look at the young hip street photographers today and the mistakes they make in pursuing their photographic dreams. Transcript: This is a poem I composed in around 10 minutes. Inspired by a photo…
I cannot explain the taste of sour brilliance rotting in the sun like fruit the chartreuse color of the number six — but I can smell it when it ripens and I cannot teach you how to feel the bristles of magic against the nape of your existence or how pink smells against sweaty feet…
“We Wear the Mask” by Paul Laurence Dunbar We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,– This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties. Why should the world be overwise, In counting all our tears and…
I cannot dizzle upon mah Toes by Emily Cold-Ass Dickinson and Gizzoogle.net I cannot dizzle upon mah Toes– No Man instructed mah crazy ass– But oftentimes, among mah mind, A Glee possesseth me, That had I Ballet knowledge– Would put itself abroad In Pirouette ta blanch a Troupe– Or lay a Prima, mad, And though…
All over the world hearts pound with the rhythm Fear not of men because men must die Mind over matter and soul before flesh Angels hold a pen keep a record in time Which is passing and running like a caravan trader The world is overrun with the wealthy and the wicked But God is…
I find myself in an uncomfortable transition period as a writer. Since 2009, when I started writing fiction in earnest, I’ve found that I have two distinct writing styles. There is my poetic style, which is in fact two styles in itself, and my prose style. While there were times I interspersed the two, for…
Raw, Naked Art 