Passing time

Texture in the sky indicative of my thoughts. Brightness in the fields we pass flashed up like memories as vivid and as manifest as moving back through history to live them out again. Fire in the air above a landscape cool and pulsing. Quenching rains to douse the heat of passing time. #paris #france Advertisements

Bay window

Odd as it may be, I’d rather be awake today. Morning seems too vivid to regard Behind a dream. Nice as it may seem to idle here In this vignette, to listen through Patinas to the rain against the siding lessen Under pale light disguised by unobservant eyes, The colored sky today is more surreal […]


The first day, they taught me to grade and sort the boards. First by the number of knots, then by grain depth, then by plane truth. I thought the last should’ve been first. It was loud, and the ever present drone of saws and air compressors shuddered off of corrugated steel walls, numbed insignificantly by […]

Beating rain

Today I overwhelmed the rain. Today it brought the darkest cloud, And I dislodged it from the sky. Today it tried to drown me so I took a deeper Breath, and staring upward at the falling Crowds I stole each drop to slake my thirst. Today the rain was cold and harsh, and so I […]

Porter’s lecture

February 29th, at 5:06am, Porter rose from bed and noticed he still wore his socks, a curious atypicality that should’ve piqued concern except the room he sat up in was not his own. Yet even that escaped Porter’s consideration in lieu of the grotesque, ghostly piers of yellow light shuddering pale and insubstantial through circular […]

Acrid rain

Something in the air up here is warning me to leave, some searing incantation spoken through the winds of branches falling splintered to the muddy ground, where all my footprints fill with rain and soot to make a stone impression of my failed path. Something of an erring dream ablated and astray, corrupted cerements alight […]


Pardon me for making all these contradictions. It’s a symptom of the craft that words grow incoherent in the portrait of a spoken image, when letters won’t emulsify and insights set to early, clotting on the brush before it strokes the canvas. Pardon me for strewing sentences on pages so haphazardly without concern for readings, […]