Palomitas for the Pasture?

They. Those. I see them. I see them, too, as do you. Those fleeting enticements Of the eye, (the glassy surface of the eye). In this garden of love Those peacocks sure do come a'callin'. But they aren't peacocks. They are palomitas. Ain't never goan be nothing but Palomitas Which offer no sustenance, No turbulence... Continue Reading →

In Mr. Habte’s Apartment (also, see the writer’s challenge after this story)

a list of the contents in the trash bin belonging to Mr. Nadir Habte: one set of sweat-soaked, piss-wetted, blood-stained bed sheets one shattered bedside lamp and light bulb seven used tissues--all drenched in mucus and tears, some speckled with blood glass shards from a broken bathroom wall mirror scraps cut from a length of... Continue Reading →

The Bride

The Wandering Armadillo

I wait, betrothed to the earth

the desolate dolomite cliffs

jagged peaks; tectonic shifts

my wedding veil…the alpine mists


consummate with rhythmic tide

so heedful of the hesitant bride

gentle, soon the waves subside

cleaving to the cave inside


decades pass, and fiery gust

shall scorch the fields to barren rust

henceforth shall I only trust

a matrimony of decay and dust

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