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Monday, February 3, 2014

Moonlight Sonata

In my quest of slumber,
my spirit is both moved
and stilled
The darkness inside
Roils in small turns
Like simmering oil,
Threatening to boil over.
That if set free
That substance could ignite
May set it all aflame
Might disfigure the serene
And leave naught
But ashes

Wednesday, January 15, 2014


Only when my world
Do you call

Whispering my name
A match to my flame

You rend me apart
I quicken
Senseless to refrain

For its sweet cruelty
That I stir
I let it rule me

I swoon and I yield
I revel
My nature revealed

Return to assail me
To guide me
Instruct, unveil me.

Again, I beg, plead
As you take your leave

Tuesday, October 29, 2013


I am no longer young.
I am not yet old.
I am this in between
This state of change
A force, a catalyst
I know what I am
But not so much in words
By rather, in sensation
In thought
In concept
In graceless mutability
At the precipice of becoming
On the cusp of having been
In the quiet moment before sunrise
In the still of a windless pond
I float amidst absolutes
I am occasionally wanted
Sought and pursued
But rarely kept
How does one dance with the ethereal
The amorphous, the gossamer
You cannot affix
To Flux

Friday, January 25, 2013


We need to stop meeting like this
as if strangers in a dark alley
In the crush of magnetic exchange
Pressed against sweaty brickwork
Flesh grinding upon a hard surface
Scraping and tearing with friction
Blood spoilt upon the texture stone
Pooling in the cracks
Violent reminders of each greeting
The marks of each parting
The ghost of whispered thoughts
Of undone deeds
And future forays
We really need to stop meeting like this

Monday, January 14, 2013

Project 365, #14 Flash Fiction, "Armed"


I stood at the wall of windows, placing my palms flat against the glass.  I was uncomfortably warm in my skin, feeling the heat dissipating out my fingers and into the cold beyond the pane.  Closing my eyes, I leaned forward pressing my forehead to the cool surface, willing my thoughts to bleed out and into the swirling air countless stories above the street.  I could hear the neighboring rooms playing something with a strong bass-line, and could barely register the vibration coming through the floorboards and up into my bare feet.  Perhaps I shouldn't have had that extra glass of wine after all.

I was strongly rooted into my sensations when I heard the door click somewhere behind me.  I didn't turn around.  Instead I opened my eyes to gaze out at the lights in the city below.  I tried to focus on just about anything but the creature rustling around behind me.  I know its my way of building anticipation, this detachment from the moment.  I preferred it when reality crashes down in an obliterating wave of onslaught.  I closed my eyes again, breathing deeply and feeling my body tingle with fullness that increased oxygen garnered.

He had learned not to speak to me when I was in my personal reverie.  I'd gotten particularly good at conveying my intentions to him with a minor glance and nod from across the room.  We had our own language of how these things would exhaust themselves.  A shadowplay of action against the backdrop of ordinary living, where we were the only ones with the capability of seeing the presence and occlusion of light. 

I became transfixed with the notion of light and dark in a dance, swirling around in my mind and blurring into grays.  Suddenly a shock of red burst into my vision as I was pressed bodily against the window.  The dichotomy of heat and ice suited me.  The unyielding nature of both winding me into a frenzy, unreleased and consuming.  My measured breathing was arrested and did not go unnoticed.  He turned me about and looked into my eyes, with his penetrating gaze.  He was uniquely skilled at getting beneath my skin without even employing so much as a finger.  His stare could press at a thousand triggers and fire them all at once, unleashing an assault that could leave his target opened, exposed and intimately satisfied.

With a crooked smile, he began to fire.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Project 365 #13, Refuge


I return to you
into my mind
the watery oasis
of your embrace
you hold and support me
you keep me safe
while the world swirls round
a hectic haze
I hear the muted sounds
as if you're singing to me
wordless tones

a lullabye
flakes fall like kisses
and sooth my hurt
but melt away
with opened eyes.

Project 365, #12 Release


White knuckles
clenching grip
holding fast
then I slip
with glistened palms
and ragged breath
I fall away
and into death

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Project 365 #11, Untitles

A torrent of motion
swirling and spinning
dancing around me
dazing me
and I ponder
I am stationary
my periphery
I remain grounded
being pulled
and pushed
into stagnancy
a thousand directions
but none attainable
I stay
I go
I be

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Project 365, Project #10, Flash Fiction - Reunion

I'd been tailing him for the better part of a week. 

I'd watched him from the shadows of alleys, overhangs and rooftops since I'd caught glimpse of him in the crowd at the exhibition.  Its not like I could ever have forgotten him.  He hadn't noticed me as I twirled about the room in my costume, with lengths of colored ribbon streaming behind me.  We always draw an eclectic crowd to our events.  I immediately noted and acutely recalled the aspects of his make up.

He remained unchanged other than perhaps some slight grey to his hair and goatee.  It was still cut short.  He had the same mannerisms that betrayed him.  The way he inclined towards the person he spoke to, showing intense interest, but his facial expression remaining neutral.  He still walked with the determined purpose he always had, stomping at the cobblestones rather than placing his feet one before the other.  His laugh grated at you, not unpleasant, just infectious.  It would crawl inside of you, loosening and disarming even the strongest of will.  His charismatic affect was rippling through the neighboring guests. as they began to circle closer to him, trying to learn more, to ingratiate themselves.

I made my excuses for being unable to stay and quickly exited the exhibition hall to change.  For all that he had remained the same, I had changed immensely.  I had grown to womanhood since he last saw me.  I'd made a life for myself.  I'd developed the few skills that he had taught me as a child and honed them to perfection, or at least as near to it as could be done.  I donned my dark clothing, removed my flashy makeup for a more somber palette.

I had a different persona each night since I first saw him.  I hung back the first night and determined where he was staying.  He hadn't left the establishment much, other than to attend more exhibits, drinking holes and whore-houses.  I overheard the name he was going by and began to wonder what the angle was for him.  He always had a plan for each place.  He always had a time table.  The biggest lesson I even learned from him was not just how to manipulate others, but, to do it in a way he had never learned, with subtlety.

I resolved that perhaps tomorrow I would confront him.  I observed him slip into the home he was staying in from my perch adjacent the street, dressed as I had the first night.  I slipped down the side of the building and into the alley at last and began to double back towards my apartments.  I began to turn the corner when I felt my body slammed against the grimy bricked wall.  Stupid.  I'd gotten so caught up in my own thoughts I didn't survey the alley ahead of time.  In this area, it could be just about anyone.  I found myself gazing up into my target's eyes as he towered over me.  His arm pinning me across the chest, and the other draping his cloak across the aperture to the street.  He forced one of his legs between mine to prevent me from dropping out of his restraint.

"Why are you following me, Girl?"

Girl?  Well I was almost hurt by that.  I was well in my late twenties by now, and clearly his memory was relegated to when I was 8.  I laughed at him.

"Well, surely you recognize me, Brother?"

Project 365, #9 The Chant

The Chant

Indifferent to my plight
your bassline urges on
pounding out my sharpness
you make me flat
you reduce my peaks to calm
I dissociate
I drift in your melody
with the eventual realization
I am expanding
my consciousness lifted
I'm soaring
floating on the crest of the wave
that is your influence