I felt the chilly wind as I stepped out of the taxi. The hotel my boss booked for me was in the northern district of the city. I stood next to the car gazing at the dark red building while the driver took my suitcase out of the trunk. The building was wide rather than
Somewhere on the border, where the cold and the dry kills everything that needs to be killed, somewhere around here is where I’m from. Where the weeds are lush and the grass is gone. Where the cow’s milk tastes dirty and the breast milk tastes sad. Where bodies are cremated, not buried, and you can
Some thoughts on love Some thoughts on affection I work my way up into no expectations And coax away the need for labels When I stare at your hand resting across the dinner table, And notice the fine scars across some shape of a palm That could belong to anyone But because it’s not anyone,
Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire. My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly, Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I? A fallen man, I climb out of my fear. The mind enters itself, and God the mind, And one is One, free in the tearing wind. “In a Dark Time” By
House Arrest I was once a prisoner. Prisoners are often kept behind bars and gates, under lock and key, but not me. I was a prisoner behind a screen. A window screen, a wire mesh stained with blood and the putrid flesh of a hundred flies. My keeper kept me under, complacent. My keeper kept
Knead… the earth with rain, and let it fain the glaring lips of the sun. Knead the earth. Pour your mortar among molded bricks and molten sand. Knead the earth, and erect your dwellings high. For like the shrub pierces the womb and sprouts from the face of Mother, you, too, shall wreak ruin. Reign
Would you like a sample? asked a woman in a uniform just past the store’s threshold, gesturing out a sample in a small white cup, similarly to how pills were handed out in prisons on TV shows. The rows of food reached nearly to the ceiling of the store, so high they required a forklift to be lowered down to the patrons. A child begged her mother for a sample of an unfrozen fried Wonton appetizer, which her mother steadfastly denied. Sure, Stacey said, accepting the small cup, finding it pleasantly crunchy with afternotes of carrot.
We were born in darkness and hunger, and that was all we ever knew. My brother said we were like axes lodged in stone, impotent objects frozen in unknown space. Silence overwhelms us. Wind is a silent phantom, ice a silent beast. Sometimes it crackles with anxiety, sometimes it groans with hunger. Sometimes it terrifies me.