nerves pulse as a result of hurling the half empty carafe to the ground,wine and passion dance abruptly along the faded hardwood and meet you at the door as you hike up your leather knee highs

curse the day you met me and catch your purse on the fine brass handle upon your exit

i grin momentarily

until i hear the finality of oak to frame connect, devastating as death letters

off to the kitchen for port and a corkscrew 

paper and ink

winter beach days

inspiration + timing = beach front auditorium

seen 2 old hands brake
one that once held an arkansas toothpick
bony string bean fingers whittled away by time and the scene of it all
black heat falling out of those hands, down low on the cold pavment
seen the people crawling back and forth bright new belt buckle armbands fashioned snug at he elbow
don't let the white heat fade out at a pace too fast or too vast for even the most well trained alley cat ghosts
sweep your old boots whimsically across main street and the corner
not that corner not hollywood
no where near that place
the girls round here say there always doing just fine and look at the ground, you have to ask twice and ask soft to get to hear the sad soul speak.

my imaginary beach with imaginary palm trees 

 

Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene.

W.S.

hearts and skys for spain

hearts from roofs on high sent over seas to hearts hiding deep inside down filled comforters with bright bright eyes peering out over time and space beamed in through my bedroom window and lighting up my nights sky stamping a smile on my face

pockets

lomo