“Something like America…”…trends

Sanity implements A forever greeting, “hello.” Prevails against  Keratin shrapnel, Nibbled  At center  To  Meddle with  Process gaps  Bridging what it means to function In understanding of sodium deficiencies.  Price dismisses Valued Goods For Price to situate A Dollar General, Mere blocks away  From City Hall. Where inside  Small Town Politicians  Argue About the patrioticContinue reading ““Something like America…”…trends”

Anton – Babinski Syndrome

A clown carried armfuls of office trinkets, up the stairs. She pivoted, lost footing and shuffled toward the edge and discovered balance by leaning against the railing.  A stapler escaped her arms and pinged at random, as it descended with metal greeting metal. The stapler’s death rattle reverberated throughout the stairwell, carried itself to theContinue reading “Anton – Babinski Syndrome”

cHoke me with a good pOem

Art succumbs to loose ends mechanized to counter the better option and secure the knot. Colors and shapes adorn patterns that discover balance, knot secured. But the tie off is a solo experience, dangling requires assistance, physical instruction (body language) and verbal commands. It’s a Pendulum allegiance to no-one, which comprehends what’s in the middle. Continue reading “cHoke me with a good pOem”

Why is Wet Art Considered Ruined?

2. Secure patterns relinquished dimensional control, in effect, causing the colors to halt their allegiance and instead display reflections cased in sewage water, outfitted below a hollow, metallic, chessboard.  1. City Folk  Hide their catch-phrases  Underneath the skin flaps Decorating their furrowed foreheads. Crevices layered in grass set a home for a lampshade and waterContinue reading “Why is Wet Art Considered Ruined?”

A Dead R(f)inger for the American Dream

Mental hospital sheek standardized curtain rods to operate on a quiet line. Cutting apart the drapes and styling the scraps like snowflakes, But it’s raining pills instead.  Mannequins stand guard, Hosting visions window-shopping  For traffic, mastering the above the waist approval. Head nods. Crooked smiles. Pierced ears, septum and the tongue  To pin down tastyContinue reading “A Dead R(f)inger for the American Dream”

Revolution. Only You Win and Now You’re the Government Everyone Hates

Decisions calibrated to a coin flip signifies humanity’s assurance in empty gestures, to fill the gap bridging choice and consequence.  Illusory standards disrupt the caustic fruit fly, appearing like static in the peripheral eye-line. Murder impulse remains to remove the annoyance. (Swat) and the deed is done. A universe diluted with solo involvement, without recognitionContinue reading “Revolution. Only You Win and Now You’re the Government Everyone Hates”

Art as an “Investment”

A wart overtook the artist’s knuckle, preventing their wrinkles from attempting full bloom. Inside their bedroom, low wattage bulbs approved weak shadows whose tint intermingled with the blemish’s eclipse, making it difficult to distinguish where their flesh clumped up to form the bump.  In order to recoup their losses on art supplies and wart remover,Continue reading “Art as an “Investment””

Trusting Silence to Reveal the Truth and Becoming Depressed about what is revealed….

“The fact that life has no meaning is a reason to live – moreover, the only one.“-Emil Cioran Adoration for simplicity, qualified Kingdom-come, welcomed new centuries and fixed regicide to rectify introspection.  (If we are GODS. We are MARTYRS too). Newscaster reported that, “the revolution will not be televised,”as footage of the capital burning playedContinue reading “Trusting Silence to Reveal the Truth and Becoming Depressed about what is revealed….”

Writing Letters to a Ghost.

A splash of almond milk imprinted a dot underneath the W key of my keyboard. Fingernail analysis decreed my index nail, to be the most equipped, in removing the blemish. I scratched at it. Multiple W’s sequenced horizontally across my Word doc. I began to delete them, but as the cursor approached the final W,Continue reading “Writing Letters to a Ghost.”

artificial sweetener

Artificial sweetener packets decorated the car’s floor-mats. Their wet shoes made them martyrs. A few sprinkles escaped, Separated and near change, Butterfly wings dried  And saved their disintegration   For the last trip home.  Some moments belong in paper-bags.  It’s all relative  To the drop off, stepping out, Putting rehearsal to use and knowing Lives whichContinue reading “artificial sweetener”