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Showing posts from April, 2017

peccata mortem

"Things could be more different if we had their trust still. There could be enough time for thinking things through. We probably wouldn't let them just go like that."
"The box, the white walls and the basement below it were always easy to fill up. We didn't even need to ask. Just dig a hole and people would write about it."
In the dark, the ruined lath and smashed plaster is reminiscent of crazy knuckles and sick cartilage that've been whomped until they're slick and pulpy. Death sits here underneath the broken roof. Death is making some beans. They're stirring the hot can with a limber stalk of elm, muttering and talking slowly, "We've aimed low enough."
"Any lower and we'd have to pull up the rug to find what got hit," they answer to themselves.
"We'll stop here and make this park our home. We'll live behind the vending machines and we'll blah blah blah," Still, they stupidly insist on talking t…

Song Title

Fraxinus is a good hard wood at market but its leaves are wild. The ash almost always turns early in the autumn, surging bright and hot into the shorter cooler nights of fall. But the magic in them is gone. Instead, they're drunk on the juice of summer's lily and fern, scattered by the squirrels and the breast heavy log nymphs, the trees are slack and thin with hangover. The house sits behind the wreck of these wobble drunks, peeking through. It's tossed eves are banging in the long winds off the lake. The garage is also poor in purpose and execution, the less I say of it the better.
There's rotting wood, ratty with bird shit and worm stuff that's descending into the busy grass out in front. The doors are gone and all of the windows are broke. The smaller rocks, the good throwing stones are inside with ache of the mildew that's spreading over the high birch paint along the withering walls. "You should come with me," Nancy steps out of the stairwell as …