Jan 232016

re_kindling #1



just wooden folk in the front yard of myths

leaning into the wind as one might a friend

leopards without spots bees without sting

inspiration splinters to watch hacked out jargon juggled about

with hoisting of prayer flags an axe swings wild

defining THe as emphasis prior to a pyre

right after those little wounded wombs heal over in the fire

looking strikingly familiar as undressed dolls

put on display in cinder block dorms

buttery ero guro figurines posed in a hidden paradigm

where amputee dancers gyrate alongside sexy exclamation marks

choreographed pelvises yielding clearcut absurdity

pressed against the grain tapping the backspace repeatedly

erases nothing as endings calve unscripted beginnings

save us from ourselves they cry give us a good telling

knot wooden scenarios stabbed with tines of a stag’s horn

while fuchsine cherry blossoms are shot out of glossy red cannons

the end starts over pulling on tangled lines

to face the strangers inside

just who are they I ask


could be just old friends never discovered



re_kindling #2



re_kindling #3



re_kindling #4





Amelia Curran YOU WON’T FIND ME







Imprints of  A Dirty Unkempt Fairy

Imprints of A Dirty Unkempt Fairy

    one thousand ocean canyons deep from here in a viral shade of confused light undetectable by little girls or little knights this is where she comes to practice her mystical art of prodigious deception it is here she spills out on a page of silt from holes where holes should not be contemptuous […]

Just Another River To Hold

Just Another River To Hold

    this tale has a creek in which a river trembles through sleep is impossible given the subplot’s twists and turns   this tale has a quote by Mahatma Gandhi strength does not come from physical capacity it comes from an indomitable will   this tale illustrates a beautiful surface while hiding the murk […]



  Johnny Cash RUSTY CAGE, a Soundgarden cover     On hallow grunge this ain’t no fairy tale tread carefully as you step through someone I know not why the wind has no face nor why a split crow flies north clutching a  brocken arrow to breastplate while the other half stays circling searching for […]



Sarah Harmer ESCARPMENT BLUES    I returned a week ago from visiting my brother in his northern Ontario town. The trip there began after midnight, driving all night in pouring rain. With my eighty five year old mother riding shotgun and Elvira working on her beauty sleep in the back seat. We arrived safe and […]