“Scent of their very Bread caused their ire” NEW YORK TIMES, 1914 talking of the riots of white Americans in New York’s Little Italy and the reactions of the native born who burned the Vesuvio Bakery. colors and lights quadrangles and circles small white windowjambs that are painted shut now. yellow paper wrapping sharpened knives
The curve of a woman’s knee Crossed Beneath an elegant silk dress. I look at her and inquire, with my mind When encountering another, who is strangely familiar A face that haunts and gives you the dryness In your mouth, like a fifteen year old Boy. Hands move Expressingly? Touching all, so tactile Talking, for
When a work of art is experienced walked into breathed in through the nostrils it takes on a different feel almost like savoring a good meal. noticing the little things, opens new doors, and closes drafty windows. letting out the musty air daring to be clear and open. dwelling and moving in someone else’s space
“City Ordinance 60301.925 specifically prohibits grass or weeds over 12 inches in height on residential or commercial property” I explained that I’d begun to cut the lot, meaning to ease around the buttercups, but farther on I found the tiny purple and white and yellow flowers that really can’t be seen from the road. And
he pulled the blue ford business man’s coupe over to the side, a gravelled stretch, and out we climbed, onto the hoover dam. the concrete shell blocked the black rock gorge, and behind it all the blue water in the world waited, angry at being so pent up. we walked the dog, ate mustard and
below, the desert is already tucking itself into night, the tan mountains shining on their western aspects, with purple robes unfurled from their pinnacles to the east. the land is deeply carved with light and shade, running east to the severe corrugations of the mogollon rim. i think, ‘shadow play” this is a
one summer, my tenth, i think, we spent living on the roof of the garage. we kept a pair of ten foot tall stilts leaning up against the edge of the roof, and would from time to time step onto them, go striding down the alley, or around the backyard, overhung with mimosa. how
My open palm continues your lifeline etched forever on my skin I scrub to erase how you’ve bore into me how I carry you. My hand reaches to clasp a future carrying the scar of things past a neon sign lights flickering burnt out.
An electric guitar strings itself onto the air high eeeee soft sugary voices mesh unheard lyrics softing floating like waterfall spray rebounding up up up to hit my ears this only happens at night in bed my head emptying out the days parables as the river sings below me i go to record it to
sat in the car w/the visor down the overhead light on the tape deck playing guns & roses she saw us but kept her face to the mirror red lipstick on huge puckered lips vanity was my first impression dead battery was my second
