It was just too easy to count the squares: eight, nine, ten... ... eleven of them. Calendars always pose a risk. Almost a year since I’d stopped counting the time elapsed since the day I realised you’d never counted any minutes. Subtract another sixty squares from that calendar... ... five years ago it happened. And… Continue reading Bad arithmetic
A tiny hedgehog— mesmerised by the brilliance of her eyes, emerging— leapt upon the broad back of a white mare, and he rode her out of the fog! Out of the forest! Out of the picture! He rode that pale horse straight to his bitter end. A bear cub still wanders the forest stapling pamphlets… Continue reading Have you seen this hedgehog?
On this rock; round this star; through space and time... I pretend to orbit you— another hurtling speck.
You are afraid I will become everything you ever dreamed of, and you can’t leave me, either. I am bound in you. I can’t comprehend why you would do this to us. Sooner or later you will crumble about me and it will be too late— I will have no choice but to fly from… Continue reading We should have been lovers
All art is a lie. The truth is far more terrible than any tragedy or horror to be performed before us. Art is a polished shield through which Perseus viewed the Medusa to avoid her petrifying gaze... before lopping her head off for sport. I can only approach you through art... this poem is my polished shield and you are my Medusa, though I would never dare attack you— just gaze in woe at your beauty knowing I can never have you. But even this is not true: the truth is far more terrible again. The truth is bleak; devoid of imagery, and you do not look in my direction.
my heart is a ventriloquist... “I love you!” thrown over a shoulder “excuse me?” I approach to clarify... a face turns back, all horrified, eyes wide, recoiling... “I love you!” heard again from over there... I spin! this time a figure turns to hold me, sobbing; her heart is into magic, too —an escape artist!… Continue reading For my next trick…
Fold into me; I am open. Open to me; I will fold.
today I just wanna drink strong coffee, and suck your face in a park somewhere... maybe eat some club sandwiches, or some quaint shit like that— no metaphors!
Calling out to you. Do you hear me? I’m calling out to you! You hear me.
He is in love with someone’s eye. She is in love with a prosthetic history. He is in love with places he hasn’t visited. She is love with feelings she hasn’t experienced. They are in love with someone else’s loves. I am in love with your sensibilities. You are in love with a curator. We… Continue reading Declension of pain