essays

Death Posturing

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You’re done for. There‚Äôs one thing, then another, and there’s nothing after that. What does that mean? A cleverly concealed pocket-knife could wiggle me away from a railroad tie-down, and suddenly my sour mid-life expiration could alter to paper-skin […]

daydreams

moon

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begging my brain to let you go and latch on to someone or something else, really this is ridiculous, clogging my own drains. Sick sticking memory of you and your old growth smell and your dance around yourself, this […]

essays

On Dreaming (1) – No Pilot

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Waking hours I am conductor, coaxing independent instruments with wandering keys and reeds to crash into passable music. Asleep my head is pure unfiltered noise, now with more pulp. Reckless unarmored, a slow motion owl-masked me stencils the first […]

Uncategorized

August and the Day of 8

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For the past several years I’ve written down my dreams, some of which are conversations that carry on for hours. In the first few minutes following waking I try my best to transcribe these ramblings, but they’re never coherent […]