New York: A Portrait [3]

we have sat on walls suspended above black text in white boxes explaining who what when and why for where is of little relevance since we are (w)here amongst the walkers, beneath eyelash-ed layers of encrusted time is a quiet sight to still a surrealist eye and prompt spiraling exhalations of desire for possession is…

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New York: A Portrait [2]

And I thought to myself, “how does the Brooklyn bridge hold?” A thousand days running through nine-fold sinew stretched taut expanding                  contracting expanding                                              contracting muscle holding everything together. how we have worked…

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New York: A Portrait [1]

it ends with desire and begins with departure. We forage to fix an appetite for finality and numb the pain of loss for it has settled into our joints and we are desperate to scrape its poison off the bone. amnesia is necessary in such pain-flecked procedure and vision blurs into bright lights and a…

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Gradations of Us

i don’t believe in the “soulmate”… …and i think we short-sell our relationships with friends and family when we conjure up a romantic, fantastical individual whose self is significant because it fits into the jagged edges of our own. no. perhaps it is a simple matter of discovering that people in this world are connected…

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The saddest word in English.

My wandering through Tumblr led me to a post called, six word story #49: The saddest word in English, “Stay”. I was arrested by the phrase, and I can surely attest, it is quite possibly the saddest word I know. The very nature of its utterance involves a desperation nobody wants to experience, but everybody…

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